Pleather-bound Heart

Enigma sat on the floor of his apartment, staring outside into the cool night. The sky was clear again and the air was chilly, but he felt so hot it didn't bother him. His cell was laying on the counter, muted. It had rung at least a dozen times today and it took everything he had to finally mute it rather than answer it. She knew. He was hoping it would take longer, but she knew. She was probably angry. If he talked to her, he knew he'd cave. His resolve would melt and he'd be pulled right back to her, like a fish on a hook.

He turned towards the counter and instead admired the newest, most up to date piece of technology in the apartment. A microwave. The fridge was now stuffed with pre-made meals he'd picked up from the store. It wasn't the healthiest food, but just the idea of cooking or trying to go out to eat made his body scream out in objection. Even worse, she knew all his favorite places. She could ambush him at any time. Just the thought sent more pangs of yearning through his heart.

He couldn't help but think of going back. Of crawling on his knees, begging for forgiveness. Telling her that he was an idiot, that he had no idea what he was giving up. As harsh as her words had been, he longed to hear them. To let them tear into him like an old, familiar pain. Instead, he took out a small frozen bowl of noodles and tossed it in the microwave, watching it spin around.

I bet she'd cook something delicious if I came back. She'd always been the better cook. He'd tried cooking a few times, but she said the food had always been bland and tasteless. She never even finished her portion and instead made something herself. He'd even tried taking her out to eat, but she always hated the places he chose. In the end, all the restaurants they ate at were ones she chose. But that was for the best, she was the smart one. His tastes were weird, he probably didn't even know what good food was. He was just an idi--

The thoughts shook him to the core and he collapsed back, resting against the counter. “No. I'm not going back. I don't deserve that. I can't be happy with that. I can, and will fend for myself. I am a grown stallion, not some colt.” He looked up at the roof and sighed. “Even if I have to eat microwave dinners for the rest of my life.” Besides, he never minded his cooking. He didn't think it was bland at all. Once he had the energy he could cook for himself.

He glanced back to the stack of disposable cups, plates and silverware on the counter. I'll to get some real dishes, too. Sponges and soap. Everything to clean. Especially if I want to cook. That'll mean pots and pans. At least I have a stove. He held his stomach and sighed. I can't afford to eat every out every day. I'll HAVE to cook to get by. I'll need to budget. I'll need to work. He perked up and a grin formed on his lips. I can start designing outfits again. She cant get mad at me for it since she won't be here! I used to be pretty popular, there could be dozens looking for a real custom design now. Something to really pour my heart and soul into.

He froze, midway to reaching for his phone, his horn sparkling a little. I haven't designed anything custom in years. What if I'm not good anymore? What if I'm just a wash up? My generic items don't sell nearly as well as they used to. What if she was right, what if all my stuff is just creepy? What if ponies don't want them anymore? What if I only used to be popular? The anxiety redoubled on him and he nearly collapsed, curling up into a little ball on the floor. His horn glowed and the phone slid off the counter onto him. He stared at it. Could he really do this? Try again?

Every harsh word about his designs sprang to mind. Both from her and from poor reviews. What if I'm just a has been? My work probably isn't good enough for custom anymore. I haven't received any custom requests in ages. He gripped the phone in his magic and turned it on. Plenty of missed calls, but one caught his eye. It from his friend, Ironweight.

He grinned and pushed the callback number. Hearing some supportive words could be all he needed. The phone rang three times before it was picked up.

“Hey, Ironweight? It's me, Enigma. I--”

“What in Tartarus is wrong with you?” an angry voice answered back.

“W-what?”

“Prism has been yelling at me all morning. They think I was in on this crap! You leave in the middle of the night and just leave a note?” Enigma mentally kicked himself. Of course, Ironweight was married to Iceprism, who was best friends with his ex. It was how the two had met and become friends, since his ex had insisted that he try to become friends with the stallion. So he could have some normal ones.

“I... I just couldn't...” The stallion felt a foot tall as he held the phone a few inches from his head. “I couldn't stay, she... she always...”

“She what? What could she have possibly done to make you do something so stupid?”

Enigma gulped. “She... she hit me...”

That gave Ironweight pause. After a few seconds he spoke up again. “Like, with a knife? Did she try to stab you? Hit you with a crow bar? A bat?”

Enigma shuffled nervously. “N-no. We were having a fight and... and she slapped me. Across the face and--”

There was a burst of laughter. “Really? A slap? That's what this is all about? What kind of colt gets all whiny about a slap?”

Shame flooded the unicorn and his gaze lowered. “But... but it hurt. A-and I... I was... when she hit me I... I just...”

“Seriously, grow a pair. A slap isn't a hit. You probably deserved it if you're doing this. Besides, I thought you were all into that crap?”

That chilled him to the bone. “What?”

“I always hear the two talking about the weird things you design. All that leather and--” Enigma couldn't hear anymore, the fire building up inside his stomach.

“She told you?!” he roared into the phone.

“Well, she and Prism talk about--” Enigma slammed the phone down as hard as he could, cracking the case and sending the power crystal skidding along the ground.

After all the times she told me how embarrassing my job is, and made me promise to never tell anyone, she's been telling all her friends about it? She told me not even to tell Ironweight, then she goes and does this? Betrayal and anger surged through him. He tried to find something to vent his frustration on, but there was nothing. So instead he dropped down onto his futon and kicked the cushions.

“Right, so my job is too creepy to tell anyone. But no, you just go right ahead and tell all your friends how I'm such a sicko, huh?” he snapped at his pillow, before slamming his head against the futon as hard as he could. Pain shot through his skull as the thin cushion didn't manage to dampen the blow much. The pain shocked him from his anger and he laid there, trembling on the futon.

A few tears formed in his eyes. “H-he's right. It was just a slap. Just one little slap. I-I'm a grown stallion, I should be able to take a little slap. I deserved it. I had to have. Just a slap, not like she hit me.” He buried his head in his hooves. “I deserved it. Now more than ever.” He pulled the blankets and pillows closer.

“He's right. I'm pathetic.” He covered his face in his bedding. “A-a real stallion w-wouldn't have cared that she hit... slapped him. Wouldn't care that he feels scared around her. Doesn't feel safe or loved. That... that wouldn't matter. Shouldn't matter. I'm just too needy, too clingy. Weird. A freak. Never deserved her.”

He unwrapped his head and his horn began to glow. The phone flew over to him. After a second he realized the power crystal was gone. He looked around a few seconds before finding it. Shattered against the side of the fridge. He let out another shriek of grief before burying his head into the covers. “N-not fair. Not fair.” He sobbed before just going limp on the bed.

I should go crawling back. Tell her I'm sorry. That I need her. I was stupid to think I would be happier without her. He rolled onto his back and stared at the roof. She... probably doesn't want me back. She's so mad. I... I'll get a new crystal tomorrow and call her. Find out. If she... wants me back, I'll come back. He hugged the pillow to his chest and shivered. Even though he decided to go back, he couldn't shake the fear and dread, which followed him into his dreams.