The Walls are Wolves

~~~~Where the Angels Fall~~~~

12:15pm, April 17th.

    "Gaper..."

    I only narrowed my eyes at the muttered statement as the two mares passed me cheekily in the hallway, their rotund manes flapping side to side on their neck like a balloon as they walked. The same movement translated to their hips as they passed the other students in the school. That attracted the attention of the stallions in the long hallway, and I frowned at their obviously attracted reaction. There was a group of stallions at the end of the locker-lined wall, and when the pair walked past them, they whistled and laughed.

    "You colts are disgusting," the mares accused before rounding the corner.

    I wrinkled my snout, muttering, "Bitches." Not being beautiful had its perks, it seemed.

    When my unmolestedly hateful thoughts infected my mind, I turned to the locker I was standing at, and it lessened the blow. 374 was the number imprinted on that strip of metal on the top, and I soon found myself focusing intently on it. I tried to tune out the constant jabbering and talking from the students around me, and my ears soon found themselves on the sides of my head, and my eyes were narrowed. It was a look I was recognized for in this school, henceforth the nickname, "Insufferable Bitch."

    I was in Senior Hall, and surrounded by taller and stronger looking mares and stallions. It was a safe zone of sorts, considering Pugnit was a Junior, and hated Seniors with a passion. Still, it was infected by the many other bullies and average students, all of which were of legal age for fucking. And, they made that prodigiously clear.

    Except, of course, the one pony in the school who didn't hate me.

    And, speak of the fucking devil. Within moments of my thoughts surrounding the repugnant ponies of the school, my third friend of my life rounded the corner in the trickling river of ponies in the hall. Summer Monsoon's blackish-brown, unkept mane flew modestly above the crowd, and his dark purple ears accompanied them. He was slightly below average in height (God damn if that isn't cute, though), handsome, and had a defined, lean-muscle build. All of which diverted my attention when we first met. Honestly, I'm more than just fucking surprised that he's single.

    Summer reached a clearing in the river of bodies, and he caught sight of me standing beside his locker. He slowed his trot and peered at me for a while, before he smiled and continued his trot. Penitent, I looked down at my hooves and found them to be acutely compulsive. Through the flurry of hoofsteps and trotting on the tile floor, I singled out his own.

    Each step he took, my dolor grew. I found myself closing my eyes shamefully and breathing heavily. He was a warmhearted stallion, which was rare to me. He didn't deserve to have something like this happen to him, and it only helped me feel like shit to know he was going to hurt soon, and I was the sole reason why.

    I looked up to see that he was near, his forest green eyes holding that friendly aura I've come to know him by. I bit my lip, looking away. What was I going to say? Or, should I even say anything? Should I just act like it was any other day, or tell him what I felt? I was being so fucking selfish. I shouldn't have even came here. I didn't want to hurt him, but then why come at all?

    And, there I am again. Being stupid and belligerent, as always. Why did he have to choose me as a friend? I'm no fucking good to anypony; I'd only drag him down with me if ponies saw us together. He doesn't deserve that. He's kind, cute, and lean-- that type of pony doesn't deserve to be with an idiotic, selfish, and ugly filly as myself. What the fuck is wrong with me? Do I actually think I deserve Summer as a friend? I should just tell him to fuck off and save him. But that'll just encourage him...

    My thoughts dissipated quicker than they formed. I had been turned away and my eyes lowered; I hadn't noticed that Summer Monsoon was standing beside me for some time, and I would have never expected the following: he hugged me.

    The embrace was alien to me. I don't even think I've been hugged in my entire life. What the fuck is happening...?

    Summer was quick and efficient. He wrapped one hoof around my neck and pulled me close to his chest. We stayed like that for only a second, but it was enough to frazzle my mane and leave a shocked expression on my face. Fuck, that felt good.

    "Hey, Fleck," Summer almost cooed. Did he actually coo? Fuck, I don't know anything right now. Is this what everypony feels when their hugged? Why the Hell am I suddenly feeling tingly and warm?! God dammit, Summer, I'm a fucking wreck!

    I pushed away a little too suddenly, and my rear bumped into the locker. A metal clang was heard, but it wasn't enough to flatten my ears, which were erect as a boner. My eyes must have been wider than saucers, because I was getting a fucking good look at Summer. God dammit, his winsome green eyes seemed to attach themselves to my most unwinsome purple ones. His head was slightly tilted, before an apologetic smile appeared on his face, and holy shit how the fuck is he single?!

    I suddenly felt the tissue around my horn hardening.

    "Sorry," he chuckled. A scratch of his head from him. A peer at his bicep from me. God dammit, can a simple hug really do this to a pony? Why doesn't everypony do it, if it's that pleasurable? "Forgot you aren't a hugger. I dunno. I thought you needed it today."

    Today...

    Realization overcame arousal, beating it to the darkest corners of my brain. Still, the positive feelings fought back, gaining ground and attention. I didn't know what to do.

    So, I gave him a hug.

    It happened before I could stop myself. But, each second I spent embracing my only friend, a thought accompanied it.

    It took effort for me to gradually succumb. My emotions, as negative as they were, soon poured into my grip. I didn't realize how hard I hugged back, but small arms such as mine couldn't possibly cause damage to Summer Monsoon.

    I was never going to see him again.

    That thought bounced in my head like a tennis ball. Each hit against the wall sent a wave of sadness to my heart, and it never let up. I didn't cry, and my face was contorted into one of stubborn disgust. I didn't want to hurt him. I didn't want to keep hurting. But, the two were a paradox, and one could not be achieved without the expense of the other.

    "I guess you are, after all," Summer susurrated. He wrapped his arms around me, and for a while, I felt protected from my life. I soon realized my vision was blurred, and all I could see was the KSU shade of purple of Summer's coat. I gently pushed away.

    My eyes were narrowed and rimmed with tears, and I looked away disdainfully. He was taller than I by a foot, and having him this close to me felt like a tower was blocking me from the countless individuals. Speaking of individuals, I heard impudent giggling from behind Summer, and gave a death glare to the group of mares who passed us. One of the mares responded with a whack of the bend of the arm: the universal sign for "go fuck yourself."

    It hurt, but I was already in excruciating pain. I had just embarrassed Summer Monsoon in front of those mares. He was seen hugging Fleck the Gaper.

    "I'm sorry," I apologized with contemptible effort.

    To my shock, Summer once again reached an arm around me. My fur bristled, but not from threatening. "For what?" he chuckled.

    I peered up at him, my eyes narrowed. "For making you the second least popular pony in school."

    He didn't respond for a while, his eyes shifting from confusion to realization, and from realization to insouciance, and then to concern. "Hey, what's wrong?" he asked suddenly.

    I looked away. I need to tell him. But what should I tell him? It was as if I was on a road, an exact, paved road with no obstacles; but it split up into thousands of different roads. Half led straight off a cliff. The other half led straight off a building.

    God dammit, I like him, okay?! Fuck, say I love him, even. I don't give a shit! I don't want him to suffer! I don't want him to come out of the school, to see my body, and to...

This is so fucking unfair! Why is this my fucking shit life?! Why does Summer have to persist in this friendship? Why the fuck does Pugnit exist? My parents?! ME?! WHO THE FUCK CAN PUSH A PONY TO THIS?!

My depression. My bad grades. My hatefulness. It's not my fucking fault. It's this fucking place. It's these cunts, who think they are the main characters in their own fucking movie, who don't realize that others have lived every second of life, others have trials, and others need friendship to live. I need to run away from this world...

    ...And I was about to. But I thought it was a good idea to tell my only friend goodbye. I thought I would be able to take it, but how fucking wrong was I, and how fucking stupid was I. I could've been happy...

    ...I could've been born in a place where friendship was magic. I could've been born in that little town in the center of the map, where the Elements of Harmony are, and where the real friends live. But, I wasn't. I was just another resident of just another town, suffering from just another trial.

    I hate Baltimare.

    Something grazed my cheek. I opened my eyes to find that the world around was blurry. Summer's arm was extended, his hoof touching my wet cheek. The look on his face was the warmest thing I've ever felt. He was still smiling, still entirely focused on me, and still concerned. He was wiping the tears from my cheek.

    For the first time in my life, I had a shoulder to cry on, eyes to peer into, and a stallion to...

    ...to say goodbye to.

    I wanted to lurch forward and tell him everything, no words included. I wanted to run away with him, not moving an inch. I wanted to teleport away, my pathetic horn not having to push itself beyond its limits. I wanted to fucking kiss him, but that would only make it more painful.

    I felt myself smiling-- no, not smiling-- grinning. Ear to ear, unwanting to let this moment pass. My hoof quickly found its way up to his own, and I grabbed it, pushing it to my cheek. I wanted to squeeze this moment and get all the positive emotions to come out, making up for the years of screaming and crying. I wanted to freeze Equus forever, and stay here. I wanted to stop this, right now, and never continue.

    But, that could never happen.

    I used the hoof which was originally supposed to hold him tight, to steadily push him away.

    "I'm going away, Summer Monsoon," I tried to say, but it came out as a whisper. I looked away, unable to speak any more. He stayed still out of the corner of my eye, and that planted anger in the rock-hard organ which was my heart.

    I had no reason to. The sight of him, standing there and willing to help, just angered me.

    I shouldn't have come here. This time, that thought came like a tidal wave, sweeping away all other thoughts, and pushing me forward to nudge him aside. He didn't say anything from behind, but I knew him better than that; calm on the outside, but a raging summer monsoon in the inside. I pushed through the oncoming current of ponies, making my way down Senior Hall to the Little Filly's Room. I tried to spit at the mocking sign, but the liquid hate got stuck in my throat, and I swallowed it just before entering.

    I checked each of the stalls, coming to the conclusion that I was alone. When certainty washed over me, I turned and locked the door. I had to be quick in this last minute of my life. My arms went around and under my backpack, and I pulled it off and set it on the floor before unzipping it, taking out my suicide note. It was the only paper in perfect shape, put among the many other creased and ripped assignments. It was a symbol of my life, plain and simple, and of my death.

    I reached in and took out the roll of tape. With the help of the mirror, I spent the next fifteen minutes taping the note to my chest. Bloodied or not, this was the only place ponies would see it immediately.

    It was an alien feeling, seeing myself in the mirror, an instrument of my own death taped to my chest so much it looked laminated. It was the truth behind my suicide, and the truth behind so many others. If I didn't do this, I was not just being selfish, I was ignorant. Still, I stayed, peering at the sheet of paper on my chest.

    Was I ever meant to live? Or, was my entire purpose in life to not live until the bitter end?

    I slowly backed away from the mirror, my eyes steering clear of my face. I quickly turned to return the supplies back to my backpack, zipped it shut, shrugged it on, and exited the restroom.

    The walk to the roof maitenance door was silent and tactless. I was unthinking, and the only thing I felt was the numb connections with the floor my hooves made. I brushed past and bumped through the countless other ponies, all stronger, or taller, or better looking.

    Just walk forward and jump. No hesitation. You've been begging for this moment your entire life.

    The door wasn't even locked. Anesthetic met grit as my hoof reached forward and turned the knob, before entering the dark, dusty staircase to the roof of the building. Nopony stopped me.

    Just walk forward and jump. No hesitation. It would be doing everypony a favor.

    The walk up the stairs stabbed me with the inevitable, instinctual regret. I felt my hooves twitch with each clop, and my eyes watered with my body's desperate resistance. But, my mind and heart were both in charge. When I was finally at the door leading to the roof, I opened it. A cool breeze greeted me, and my body shivered, but my mind was still numb. The edge was just ahead, ten or so yards, and under it, I heard voices. It was Pugnit.

    My hooves started to walk. My head started to shake, and my eyed started to blur with tears.

    Just walk forward... jump... no hesitation... They deserve it. I deserve it.

    The wind escalated from a breeze to a tornado in my mind. My hooves stopped working, refusing to end their pathetic works, but my legs pushed forward. I felt numb and shaking; hated and suffering, but I kept trotting forward, unwilling to let this stop, so close to the end. Nothing fucking mattered now. It was just the ground, me, and the note taped my chest. I heard it creasing and bending with each step I took, so I puffed my chest out so it would appear clear to whoever saw it.

    The ledge was nearing, and just a few more steps, and I would be gone. No hesitation. No waiting. No hope. I'm fucking doing this.

    Another hoofstep, another half-foot closer the ledge came. Another hoofstep, another half-foot closer was the evolutionary change of this fucked up society, for the better. It was near, now. My hooves grew heavy, and they dragged acrosd the pavement. I'm doing this. I'm doing this.

    I was at the end. The voices at the bottom were now audible, but I payed no attention to them. One more step up this two inch tall ledge. My hooves were growing in density; they felt like a thousand pounds. But I finally fought back, planting one hoof on the ledge. I lifted my right hoof, and it hovered above the five story drop.

    No hesitating.

    Another hoof. I risked a glance down and saw the hard pavement beckoning me. It was clean. It was waiting. And, it was supporting Pugnit, his two friends, and--...

    ...no.

    ...Oh, God, please no.**

Please... keep him out of this... Why the fuck is *he** down there...?!*

    I was frozen. I couldn't move an inch, and my eyes followed suit. I was hesitating. I didn't try to push myself forward, I only stared down at the stallion facing Pugnit, backed into the wall by the three other ponies.

    Pugnit noticed me first. I didn't know how much time passed. It could have been a second or a minute with me up there, my hoof over the edge, my brain frozen in raw terror. But, he noticed me nonetheless. I was too far up to see his face, but he froze too, and the effect was infectious. First, his friend. Then, his friend's friend.

    Then, Summer Monsoon.

    And his face, I could see perfectly. I had just stabbed him in the back.

~~~~I Bridle When Life Stares~~~~

12:15pm, April 17th.

    The smoke traveled up in the air, tiny black dots and molecules sprinkling the gray mist. It circled and doubled over, the sky clearly seen through the transparent soot. I saw the clouds and sky above in a new perspective, shrouded in darkness, but still the sky nontheless.

    "You're looking pretty shaky," Gingerale acknowledged, sitting by my side. I gave him a glance, my ears perked and ready for it. "...I don't blame you, man. That must be rough... You shouldn't let your old man do that."

    My eye twitched as Gingerale replanted the cigarette in his mouth. He stayed like that for a while, his hoof balancing the faggot as he sucked in the numbing sensation. The end of the stick glowed orange in response. Beside him was his friend, who followed his lead fluently. A few seconds later, Gingerale put his arm on his hoof and breathed out what he had to say: "We're here for you, bud." He lifted a hoof up, facing it towards me. I grabbed it and shook it side to side, the same hoofshake we made up a decade ago. "If you need a place to crash, I'm open. I'll kick my aunt out for the night. Not that she'll mind. Drunk bitch." He smiled sadly, taking another puff.

    I nodded solemnly. "Thanks, but I'll pass." I thought of my father again, and my rage built, but for the first time in my life, I kept it at bay. I kept it buried in a new ditch of my heart, ready to be brought out later.

    "'S all good," Gingerale reassured. "But I am open."

    I nodded miniscully, looking at the cement pavement intently. I was abnormally silent, and they knew it, and I knew it. When the scenario eventually turned awkward, I had to break the ice. My hoof traveled into my backpack, and moments later, I came back out with my wallet.

    "If you guys want some bits," I hinted, bringing the wallet into view. I didn't know what was going to happen after I got home. "I don't need them, anyways."

    Gingerale glanced at his friend. She shook her head, looking forward as her cigarette was used once again. My friend turned back to me. "You keep it, dude."

    On the second thought, I put my wallet back in the backpack. If they didn't want it, I had it-- anypony but Goddian.

    "You wanna..." Gingerale paused, shrugging a little. "...Unwind a little?"

    I looked his way, and saw that he had his hoof outstretched, a cigarette balancing on, facing me. The orange light was still purtruing from the smoking end, having been freshly lit. Or, smoked. I don't fucking know.

    A glare was his response. "You want to offer me that?" I almost snapped. "After all the fucking around they caused you? Dammit, man, have you learned anything in the past few years?" I slapped the faggot out of his hoof.

    Gingerale growled, taking another from his box. He lit that one and plopped it in his mouth, glaring ahead. "I'm fucked up. What can I say?" I saw a hint of surpressed regret in his narrowed irises, but I said nothing. After a few seconds passed, he turned to his friend and spoke in her native tongue: Fancy.

    I frowned, facing ahead. I didn't understand any of the monkey language, and some of it sounded like: "Juneh pohns pah eeleh prreh." That's the only gibberish I caught until he went off quickly and fluently. His friend nodded, responded, and glanced at me. I glared back.

    The two talked for some time. I soon lost track of their conversation (not saying I had any leeway to begin with), and I decided to take out the wallet, and count the money I stole. Fifteen minutes was spent counting, losing track, growling and starting over, and recounting as Gingerale and Étoile Care rattled off in that annoying, Fancy tongue. It seemed as if they were in full conversation, talking about really anything. It wasn't until I thought they were talking about me I interveened.

    "What're you two dumbasses talking about?" I snarled finally as my hooves lost track of yet another 100-B coin. I bent down to grab the bit, and Gingerale didn't answer for that time. I recomposed myself before giving him an expecting glare.

    "...Which cigarettes have the best flavor," Gingerale answered. I knew it was a lie, but I didn't need to know what it was about-- I needed to know what it wasn't about.

    "Don't fucking talk about me in Fancy," I threatened, glaring ahead. "If you want to talk about me, see that I understand crystal clear."

    The door opened behind us. My ear twitched at that, and when Gingerale and his friend turned back I followed suit. Behind us stood a dark purple earth pony stallion, and without much inspection needed, I saw that he worked out. His mane was unkept and a dark shade of brown, almost like a snaky bush falling over his forehead while standing on its own in the back and middle. Forest green eyes peered at us, and they had a tinge of accusation. I gave him a glare right back, but it didn't faze him a bit. He was looking at Gingerale's friend.

    For a while, we stood in silence, and I couldn't tell if he was thinking or trying to intimidate. I took that time to steal a few glances at his impressive tri's and chest.

    "...How old are you ponies?" he finally asked. My ears perked, along with Gingerale's, but his friend's slammed to her skull. I was wondering why he'd say that when I looked to my right, and saw my two friends with cigarettes in their mouths.

    Gingerale answered before I could. "None of your business, creep."

    The stallion's eyes fixated on each of us confidently and pugnashusly. Yet, he stayed back and studied the scenario. He spotted me, then, who had no cigarette in my hoof. I recognized his face. Besides seeing him a few times at the gym, I also caught sight of him in the hallways occasionally. He was almost always with Fleck.

    I never knew that vengeful jealousy and biting admiration could mix, until today.

    "What's your name?" I asked in an attempt of friendship, eying him.

    The pony's eyes shifted to mine. I saw a single ember of sustained rage. "None of your business, creep."

    I could feel my Intermittent Explosive Disorder eating me from the inside out. I was instantly up and in the stallion's face. I was a good six inches taller than him (two, counting his mane), but he stood his ground.

    Don't make me do this.

    We stayed like that for some time, unmoving, and unfaltering. I kept trying to send him messages to back off, but if he got them, he ignored them. His eyes were calm and wild, the fact they were narrowed being the only one showing his anger. I could literaly feel the tension in the air.

    ...Don't do this. You can't be that stupid.

    Then, the stallion did something I never expected: he spat.

    The saliva landed on my cheek with a faint smacking sound, yet it was enough to freeze everything. Gingerale and his friend were both dead silent, and the first inch of movement was me lifting up a vibrating hoof to my cheek. I felt it, as if unbelieving it actually existed. But, it did. It was warm and sticky, and was slowly dripping down to my jawline.

    "I'm going to fucking murder you," I said calmly.

    He only glared.

    I'm not sure what I would have done to him, if one simple statement hadn't saved his life: "Pugnit, look up." It was said by Gingerale from behind. I gave the stallion one last glare before glancing upwards, but after I caught sight of what was above, I turned to stone.

~~~~Turmoil isn't Private~~~~

12:15pm, April 17th.

    I wanted to talk with Fleck.

    There was no direct reason for my choice, only lots of little ones piling up to the submission of mind. Étoile Mending had made it clear Fleck was going through trials, but my personal admiration and natural desire both aided my eventual longing to talk with her. It really made sense, now that I thought about it.

    I was in the Senior Hall of Baltimare High. It was first lunch time, and now the many near-graduates of Baltimare were getting together and socialising all in this hall. It was nearing the end of the school year, although Summer stayed in that tantalizing range which was too far for plans, but too close for not looking forward. The hallway was bustling with ponies, although it wasn't as dense as some would think; years of practice helped me cut through the crowd like a knife through butter, as I was always staying in different areas of openness.

    It wasn't until an opening in the crowd I realized who was standing beside my locker. There was Fleck, with a reluctant look on her face, looking right back at me. Although most wouldn't agree in the slightest, I liked that look of hers. Not friendly in the least, but it was intriguing. To me, at least. I gave her a smile just before the crowd of ponies around blocked her out again. I wasn't to be shaken, however, and I continued on.

    I pushed and squeezed past a few more ponies before I came to Fleck. I made a move to greet her, but...

    She was looking away. Her ears were plastered to her head, and her eyes were downcast angrily. Well, that's just Fleck, but then there was the look in her eyes. She was in her own little world of sadness. I could only look down at her sorrowfully for some time before I mustered up the courage to give her a little hug.

    I didn't really think it would affect her much-- it was just a hug, after all. I wrapped my left arm around her and pulled her close until her head touched my chest. I didn't mean any harm, so I gave her a meak, "Hey, Fleck."

    And then, she pushed away. And that hurt more than I expected. I suddenly felt guilty, and apologized. "Sorry." I scratched the back of my head shamefully, looking away. "Forgot you aren't a hugger. I dunno. I thought you needed it today."

    Fleck's eyes were a flurry of surprise and betrayal. She glanced left and right, but her eyes never left mine for long. I felt the familiar feeling of guilt wash over my body, and I was about to apologize before she lurched forward and hugged me.

    I glanced back and forth from her orange and black mane to the lockers for a while, stunned. But then, her unintentional charm finally caught up with me, and I smiled. "I guess you are, after all." I felt myself blush, and a rush of warmth engulfed my chest. I hugged back softly, and enjoyed the feeling we shared. I think this was our first time actually hugging, and I was more than glad to see she wasn't afraid to cross that line, either. I took a moment to relish in the feeling, smiling.

    She was so cute. I didn't know how long it took for me to realize it, but she was one of the most charming fillies I've met. Sassy and aggressive, but determined and adorable.

    ...Except, I have a marefriend now.

    I bit my lip, sighing. I've liked Étoile Mending since she had moved in, but now I was obligated to her. At least, that's what I think it's like. Do we have to go on a date first to be considered a couple? Or, do we really just have to both like each other?

    Fleck pulled away. Thoughts of Étoile dissipated instantly when I saw her face, and I took a moment to mentally beat my head with a sledgehammer.

    "I'm sorry," she almost whispered. That took me off guard, and made me a little worried, so I reached around her again.

    "For what?" I asked honestly. I'm glad she answered, otherwise I would have said some cliché romantic line. Wait, no, I'm in a relationship. Or, am I? Yes, I am. God dammit.

    Sorry for the language.

    "For making you the second least popular pony in school," Fleck answered. I peered at her, confused, until I heard the giggling from behind. But...

    ...I knew Fleck wasn't exactly the most popular, but why would she talk about herself like that?

    "Hey, what's wrong?" I asked, taking a step closer. We were now inches apart, and... I don't know if it was me, but I just got a feeling I should...

    ...No. I am obligated to Étoile Mending. Fleck is beautiful and alluring, she's sure to find a coltfriend some time in the near future. And when she does, I'll be happy for her; Étoile and I both.

    "...I'm going away, Summer Monsoon," she whispered.

    I tilted my head, but not before she pushed past me meekly. Fleck was cryptic, for a sophomore in high school. What did she mean? I looked after her as she parted through the crowd, eventually being engulfed by it. I felt bittersweet, yet I didn't know why. She wasn't going to do anything too extreme, right?

    ...Right. Fleck wouldn't do something like that. She's smarter than that, even if she fails to admit it. I gave her direction a smile before turning back to my locker, entering the code, and opening it. I retrieved my bag lunch before trotting through the crowd yet again.

    I spent the next twenty or so minutes eating. I usually ate by myself in the lunch room, and while most ponies would mistake it as loneliness, it was really just calm to me. I'm not gonna go in to too much detail of my personal likings.

    I was walking past the cafeteria doors when I heard talking from outside. I turned, and when I saw what was happening, I was attacked with disgust and nostalgia at the same time. Behind the double doors leading to the entrance staircase were three students, looking no older than eighteen, smoking cigarettes. The one on the left was a rough-looking filly facing the other way and sitting on the top of the staircase, and the two beside her were both colts, following suit with their positions. Normally, I would have turned away and let them sort out their own problems, but the mare on the left was speaking Fancy, and speaking about Étoile Mending.

"...Á present, elle a un copain, s'appele 'Summer Monsoon,'" [Right now, she has a coltfriend named 'Summer Monsoon'] she was finishing. My ears instantly perked at that, and I stepped closer to the double doors. "Beau, ouais, je sais ça. Je peux voir pourquoi Étoile l'aime. Mais... chais pas. Il n'a past des bonnes amies pour nous." [Handsome, yeah, I know that. I can see why Étoile likes him. But... I dunno. He doesn't have good friends for us.] My head tilted. The echoing of the talking of the countless fillies and colts behind me drowned out the Fancy, so I had to angle my ears forward.

    The colt to her right looked at her with confusion. "Quoi?" [What?]

    The mare glanced at the colt to her far right. He was currently sulking. "Il est amis avec Fleck," [He is friends with Fleck] she explained, before taking another puff of her cigarette. "Ça putain." [That bitch.]

    My eyes widened. What did they mean by that?

"Je crois elle va le dit quelle a commencé hier," [I think she's gonna tell him what happened yesterday] she complained. I felt my eyes narrowing. "Avec Pugnit, là-bas. Peut-être on va être arrêté parce qu'il...? Je ne suis pas un bonne chevale, mais je connaît cruauté quand je le vois." [With Pugnit, over there. Maybe we're gonna get arrested because of him...? I'm not a good pony, but I know cruelty when I see it.] She took another puff. "...Et merde, il était cruel." [...And shit, he was cruel.]

    I didn't need to listen anymore. I was shaking with anger, and couldn't stop myself before I trotted forward and pushed out the doors. The Fancy filly and understanding colt turned around first, before the colt to the right followed suit. The filly had a look of shocked and guilty realization on her face.

    I glared at their cigarettes. "How old are you?" I asked, my hackles rising.

    "None of your business, creep," the Fancy speaking colt defended himself with. I shifted my glare to him, and was going to snap back at him before "Pugnit" intervened.

    "What's your name?" he asked. I didn't answer. This was the asshole who was cruel to Fleck. I felt my fur crawl-- it all made sense, now that I thought of it. Fleck's demeanor came from him.

    "None of your business, creep," I repeated the other colt's words. Pugnit took it just as I intended, and stood up before walking to my face. He was considerably taller than me, but I glared back wholeheartedly, nonetheless. This was the pony who had bullied Fleck. She never told me about bully problems, but I knew despite her silence; I saw it in her demeanor, hatred, and eyes. She had the eyes of a bullied filly, just wanting a friend out of me. Why hadn't I seen this before?

    Probably because now, it was standing right in front of me; six inches taller, in fact.

    I felt anger well up in my chest, and got rid of it the quick and humane way: I spat on him.

    It landed on his right cheek. The two goons behind him, as if it was possible, turned dead silent. He reached up and wiped it off, before giving me a glare that could chew through metal.

    "I'm going to f*cking murder you," he said stoically.

    I glared. I was ready for him. Beat me up and I'll call the Guard. Kill me, and everypony else will. If you lay a God damn hoof on me, I take no responsibility to what happens next.

    It was then I saw his two goons looking up, a look of harrowing on their faces. I was wondering if the idiots had never seen the sun before when they murmured, "Pugnit, look up."

    He did, but after that, he did absolutely nothing. He was like a statue, carved from the most solid of rocks. The anger dissipated from his eyes, and the rage relaxed in his muscles.

    Whether it was stubbornness or confusion, I would never know, but I looked up, too. It was as if my blood froze entirely from the inside.

    Fleck was on the roof of Baltimare High, about to jump.