Second Chances

by Rawg

Rating: teen
Tags: Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Human, Sad, Romance, Trixie, Second Person, Other
Length: 4374

You stumble across a bully from your high-school days who wants to try and make things right between the two of you.

One fall morning, while on a hunt for a special music album, you stumble across a young woman in an alleyway, crying and covered in filth. You recognize her as Trixie Lulamoon, a girl who saw fit to make your life hell during high school. Rather than stick to old traditions, though, she apologizes for the way she treated you.

So, you invite her to spend the night at your apartment.

A very late Valentine's Day fic, inspired by a dream I had some time ago, as well as the song "Second Chances" by Aviators. Please forgive me if the ending seems rushed; I couldn't think of a way to finish this up that completely satisfied me, but I decided it was finally time to publish it regardless of how nicely I wrapped it up.

Published 2016-07-31 04:30:01 UTC
Last updated 2016-07-31 04:30:01 UTC

Second Chances

Author's Note

This story is 5 months overdue, so I figured it was about time I forced myself to finish it. I couldn't quite come up with an ending I was happy with, but by the time I got to #3, I had to face facts: it was late, I was tired, and this was as good as it was going to get.

Anyways, this story is inspired by a dream i had in which I met a particularly unfriendly person from a few years ago, and we decided to let bygones be bygones. I awoke with a newfound sense of forgiveness, realizing that holding grudges against people you haven't seen in years isn't healthy; after all, everyone changes, and everyone can use a second chance.

I wonder how she's doing these days.

Second Chances

You take a deep breath of the crisp, autumn air as you exit the music store, having spent nearly two hours tirelessly searching for the latest album by your favorite band, Spirits of the Everfree, but to no avail.

“That’s the fourth place today,” you mutter as you pull up the collar of your jacket and rub your hands together, trying to conserve as much body heat as possible for the trip back to your apartment. Fall in the city was always bitterly cold, but this was ridiculous; it was only the first week of September, and your breath was already hanging in the air in thick, wispy puffs of steam.

“I’d hate to be stuck outside at night in weather like this,” you say to yourself, blowing a quick breath into your hands and rubbing them together vigorously, and then rubbing them on your sides; you needed to buy a new jacket before winter finally reared its ugly head.

You find yourself trying out a new shortcut in hopes of returning home that much quicker; the cold wasn't that serious, but you didn't feel like staying in it for any longer than you had to. So, you decide to try your luck with one of the narrow alleyways that snaked between the shops and businesses that made up the crowded mess that was the downtown area. This wasn't the prettiest or most hospitable of cities, but it was home.

Just then, a short way ahead on your path, you hear the sound of a door being forced open, and a loud thud as if someone had been thrown to the ground. “I don't wanna see you around here ever again!” You hear an enraged voice shout, which causes you to instinctively duck behind a nearby dumpster; you always shied away from shouting, even if you hadn't done anything wrong.

Whoever had been thrown out pleads with the angry man. “Please, I need this job! I promise it won't happen again!” A young woman’s voice wails desperately. You can't quite place it, but something about her voice seems familiar.
“I don't wanna hear it!” The man snaps. “This is the third time this week we've caught you stealing food from the kitchen. Get lost! Find somebody else to burden!” The man mutters a few nasty words, and then slams the door shut.

You peer over the dumpster to see if the coast is clear. The only thing you can see was a young woman with long, whitish-blue hair and violet eyes, dressed in faded jeans and a worn, navy-blue hoodie, weeping softly with her back against the brick wall opposite the door she had been thrown out of. She was sopping wet, her trajectory having landed her in the middle of a dirty, oily puddle.

“No way,” you whisper, finally realizing why the young woman seemed so familiar.
She looks up fearfully, a sight which makes you smile a little bit; after all, with all the pain she caused you during your school days, it was nice to see her in the victim’s shoes for once.

“Who’s there?” Trixie demands, eyeing the dumpster suspiciously. You're still in the dumpster’s shadow, and your black jacket and the shade of the late autumn afternoon make it so you're practically invisible. You linger in the darkness a moment longer, debating whether or not you should just wait for her to go on her way, and finally stand up and step out into view.

"Long time, no see,” you say quietly, with just a hint of bitterness in your voice.
Trixie narrows her eyes. “Do I… know you?” She asks uncertainly, visibly racking her brain for how she could possibly remember you.

You shrug. “You probably terrorized a lot of high schoolers way back when, but I'm honestly kind of hurt that you don't recognize your number-one target,” you say with false remorse, slowly beginning to walk over to her. You were enjoying this turn of events; in hindsight, perhaps a little too much. “How does it feel, Trixie? To be powerless, to feel like the whole world is against you? I guess karma really is a bitch,” you say with a slight chuckle. You're standing over her now, just as she had stood over you countless times when you were you were younger.

She looks confused. “What are you talking about…?” she trails off, and her eyes suddenly get huge. “Anon?” She asks, her voice practically a whisper.
You grin. “Ironic, isn't it, that in The Great And Powerful Trixie’s darkest moment, who should happen across her but Anon, her favorite victim from her high school glory days as Queen of the School?” You ask condescendingly.

Trixie scowls. “Don't call me that,” she snaps, looking down sharply. “That's not who I am anymore.”
You glare at her. “You had your cronies punch me in the stomach every time I didn't refer to you as ‘The Great And Powerful Trixie’, and now all of a sudden you expect me to be nice and let you be?” you snap, your anger starting to boil up. You wanted to keep your cool and make this all seem theatric, but you were beginning to realize that you deserved retribution

She suddenly stands up and starts walking forward, her sudden reaction causing you to retreat. “Just go away, Anon!” she snaps. “What, you think it's poetic justice that you get a chance to tease me just like I did to you in high school? You think that you're some kind of big hero becuase you're taking a stand and getting back at me for the way I treated you?”

You stammer for a moment, but she cuts you off. “Well, you must feel pretty good about yourself right now, huh? After all, the girl who bullied you in high school is homeless, jobless, and has no friends, while you probably get to be all warm and safe in a nice house!”

This hits you like a freight train. “You mean… you don't have anywhere to go? Nobody to stay with?” Your voice has lost all of the anger it was practically bursting with moments before, and has been replaced with fearful sympathy.
Trixie doesn't respond, and instead goes back over to the wall and slowly sits down again. “I'll admit, after the way I acted in school, I kind of deserve this,” she says quietly. “But for what it's worth, I'm sorry, Anon.”

You stare at the girl for what seems like ages. She's all wet and dirty, and you know it's going to be freezing when the sun sets. You can't stand seeing anyone so helpless and alone, and you were starting to realize that you were kind of a dick before.

“I'm sorry, too,” you say finally. “Listen… if you need a place to stay, I guess you could crash at my apartment for a little while.”

Trixie looks up at you, surprised and confused. “What?”
You sigh heavily. “The way I acted just now wasn't cool, and I want to make it up to you. You need a place to stay, and you'll more than likely freeze to death out here in those wet clothes,” you explain. “So… you can stay at my place for a little while, until you get back on your feet.”

She stares at you for a few moments. “Are you sure?”
You nod slowly. “You may have treated me like crap back in school, but it isn't right to act the way I did, especially with what you're going through.”

She stares at you a moment longer before slowly rising to her feet. “Thank you,” she says with a small smile.

/\//\//\//\//\

You lead Trixie back to your apartment, making awkward small talk on the way there.

“So, what have you been up to since school ended?” she asks kindly.
You shrug. “I got into music production during my sophomore year, so I've been working on that,” you reply nonchalantly.

Trixie looks impressed. “What kind of music?”
“Mostly electronica, but it’s a bit more than that,” you trail off. “I guess I do a little bit of everything, but it all has electronic roots.”

Trixie makes a face. “‘Electronica’? Isn't that like techno?”

You shake your head, grinning slightly. “No, techno is more of a late ‘80s, early ‘90s thing. This is way better,” you explain. “What about you? What have you been doing?" Your question was in good spirits, but you react quickly when you see Trixie’s face fall. “I mean, you don't have to talk about it, if you don't want to,” you add.

Trixie shakes her head. “No, it’s fine,” she insists. “After school… well, I just drifted for a little while. My parents kicked me out when I turned 18, so I moved in with my boyfriend for a while.

“Well, I found out he was cheating on me, so I left him and came back to the city. I guess somewhere down the road, I realized what a rotten bitch I had been, and what was happening to me was just payback.” She looks at you sadly. “I really am sorry for the way I was, Anon,” she says sadly. “I'd take it all back if I could.”

You stop walking and look up. “Well, here we are,” you say, changing the subject. “Home sweet home.”

You lead your unlikely companion up the stairs to your apartment, and she practically faints at the sight of it.
“You never said it was a studio apartment!” She exclaims, holding out her arms and spinning around in the open space. “There's so much room!"

You shrug and rub the back of your neck. “It's still a bit of a fixer-upper,” you say modestly, and point a finger to the ceiling; or, lack thereof. “It's just rafters up there, and I'm trying to save up to call an electrician and get the wiring up to par.”

Trixie is still gazing around the apartment in wonder. “Still… wow,” she says quietly. “You've got this whole place to yourself? No girlfriend or roommate?”
You shake your head. “I'm the only one crazy enough to want to live up here, and I've never had a girlfriend,” you explain, your face reddening.

Trixie looks surprised. “Really, never?” She asks slowly, “but your so cu-” she cuts off, her face becoming even redder than yours.
“What was that?” you ask with a raised eyebrow.
Trixie shrugs innocently, her cheeks still rosy. “Nothing,” she says quickly. “It's just hard to believe that anyone as old as you can say they've never been in a relationship.”

You shrug. “Well, I was kinda terrified of girls after I survived all of your torment,” you point out, a hint of friendly teasing in your voice.
Trixie doesn't pick up on your playfulness, and instead looks mortified. “Oh, no, I didn't make you gay, did I?” she asks fearfully. “Anon, I am so sorry-”

You cut her off with a friendly laugh. “No, it's fine; I am one-hundred percent straight,” you say reassuringly. “I mean, not that I have a problem with other people being gay or anything, that is,” you add quickly, and let out an exasperated sigh. “Anyways, did you want to… take a shower or something?” you ask awkwardly, pointing in the direction of the bathroom. “I could lend you a change of clean clothes, too, if you want. They probably won't fit, but at least they'll be clean.”

Trixie looks taken aback by your offer. “Anon… why are you doing all of this?” She asks slowly. “I mean, I am probably the one person you hate more than anyone in the whole world. Why are you doing all this for me?”

You shrug. “Well, for one thing, I kinda owe it to you for the way I acted back in the alley,” you point out. “That and I don't think I'd be able to sleep soundly knowing I left someone to freeze in the gutter, no matter how cruel they may have been to me in the past.”

Trixie nods understandingly. “Well, thank you,” she says gratefully, and heads for the bathroom. “And again, for what it's worth, I'm sorry about the way I treated you, “ she adds.

/\//\//\//\//\

You scavenge through your dresser for a decent set of clothes to lend Trixie. You settle on a pair of fuzzy pajama pants and a hoodie; you figure she'd appreciate a warm night's rest. You set the clothes on the floor in front of the bathroom door where your guest can see them, and then you grab an extra blanket and pillow from your room and place them neatly on the couch.

You smile to yourself, impressed by your own hospitality. It wasn't a high-and-mighty feeling, though; it just felt good to be helping somebody out when they needed it.

You hear the bathroom door creak open, followed by a surprised gasp, and the sound of the door closing a few moments later. After a couple of minutes, Trixie enters the living room dressed in your sacrificed pajamas.

“Thank you so much, Anon,” she says, blushing and patting her legs, now clad in your incredibly soft, black-and-red plaid pajama pants. “They feel great!” She exclaims, smiling happily. “You didn't have to give me such nice clothes, Anon,” she says stubbornly. “You've already more than made up for your outburst in the alley just by giving me a place to stay.”

You shrug, grinning modestly. “Well, the clothes you had looked kinda worn out, so I figured you'd appreciate something comfy,” you explain. “And… I forgive you,” you add quietly, now staring at the ground. “I know it sounds crazy, but even though we have a poor history together, I feel like we could actually become good friends.” You glance up at her shyly

You stare at each other for a long time, neither of you sure of what to say next. “Well, uh, its getting kind of late, and I've got to go to work in the morning,” you say, forcing a yawn to break the awkward silence. “The couch is all yours; it isn't the greatest place to sleep, but it’s all I've got right now.” You rub your chin thoughtfully. “Maybe I should get a fold-out futon,” you wonder aloud.

Trixie fluffs the pillow and places it against the arm of the couch. “Thanks, Anon,” she says softly, and walks over and, after biting her lip nervously, gives you an awkward hug. “This really means a lot to me; it's more than anyone has done for me in a long time."
After a moment's hesitation, you press an arm against Trixie’ back. “It's no problem,” you reply kindly, and the two of you hold the embrace for a few moments longer. After you separate, Trixie laughs nervously. “Well, goodnight, Anon,” she says tiredly, and climbs onto the couch. “Sweet dreams.”

You smile. “Sweet dreams, Trixie,” you reply, and you retire to your room.

/\//\//\//\//\

You couldn't sleep. You tried counting sheep in your head, reading some boring news articles, and even just staring into the darkness, but you were just too restless to fall asleep.

“Might as well get some work done,” you say as you climb out of bed. You sit down at your computer and open up your virtual music studio, smiling as it loads up your most recent song. You put on your headphones and give it a quick listen; the volume sounds kind of low, so you crank it up a few notches. “Let's see if I've still got the energy to record some lyrics,” you say to yourself, and you grab a nearby notebook and adjust your microphone’s position. After a deep breath and a quick vocal exercise, you begin to sing.

“I wake up in the morning,
You're the first thing on my mind,
If I could win your heart,
There's nothing else I'd need to find,
I'd wish upon a blackstar,
If it would make you see,
There's nothing in the world that means,
More than you to me.

“I know that I've got no chance,
But my heart just won't stop gambling,
Whenever I try to talk to you,
My stupid mouth won't stop rambling,
I know you'll never feel for me,
The way that I do for you,
Chasing sunsets makes more sense
Than falling in love with you.”

You nod, satisfied with your work, and notice something moving in the reflection of your screen. You quickly turn your head and see Trixie standing in your doorway. “Oh, crap, did I wake you?” You ask worriedly as you take off your headphones, “Sorry about that, I always get a little emotional when I sing.”

Trixie gives you a small smile. “Well, I could hear you singing, but that's not the main thing that woke me; you might hurt your ears if you listen to music so loud,” she explains teasingly.
You give her a confused look, and then turn to your computer. “Oh, man,” you say, realizing that the jack for your headphones was never plugged in. “Well, that explains why the music sounded so quiet,” you sigh. You look back and see Trixie has made her way over by you.

“You know, your music is a lot better than techno,” she admits. “You've got a nice voice, too. Those lyrics were beautiful.”
You shrug. “They just kinda came to me, I guess,” you say nonchalantly. You notice now that your faces have been getting closer together with every second that passed in this conversation. “I'm sorry I woke you up,” you apologize again.

Trixie shrugs. “Don't be,” she replies softly. “If I wasn't so tired, I wouldn't have been able to work up the courage to do this.”

Just then she leans forward, and your lips meet. Your eyes bulge for a moment, and you instinctively push her away despite the warm, soft caress of her mouth. She stares at you for a few moments, and you can see heartbreak and confusion filling her eyes.

“Trixie,” you start to say, but she briskly stands up and walks out of your room. You quickly follow her, and notice that she's gathered up her clothes. “Where are you going?” You ask worriedly.
Trixie gives you a shameful look. “I'm leaving,” she says simply. “I don't know what I was thinking… it's just going to be weird if I stay here now.”

“Trixie…” you say again, but she isn't listening as she walks toward the front door.
“I'll see you around, Anon.”

Just then, everything clicks into place right then and there. You realize that the Trixie you knew in high school truly was no more, and had been replaced with a kind and beautiful young woman, and that she wanted more than to make up for the past and just be friends: she had fallen in love with you.

And, most of all, you realize something that your teenage self would punch you in the face for thinking about for even a fraction of a second: you were in love with her.

Your reasoning gives way to passion, and your mind becomes clouded with the panic of losing her. “Trixie!” You cry as she starts to pull open the front door. You rush forward and slam it shut with one hand as you look her in the eyes intensely.

“Anon, what are you-” she starts to say, but you cut her off with a forceful kiss. Your lips meet for the second time this night, and this time she's the one who resists a little. After a second, though, she places her arms on your shoulders, trying to pull you closer. You finally part from each other for a moment, each of you gasping just a few inches from the other’s face.

“I love you, Anon,” she gasps, smiling happily. “I don't know if I did all those years ago and treated you so badly to try and hide it, but I know now that I do.”
You give her a quick kiss on the lips, and you could swear you hear her whine when you pull away again. “I love you too, Trixie,” you whisper. “I know it's crazy, but I love you more than I've ever loved anyone before.”

The two of you kiss again, slowly making your way back into the living room. “That couch is a little uncomfortable,” Trixie whispers with a cute smile. “Could I sleep in your bed instead?”
You raise an eyebrow.“But then I'd be stuck with the couch,” you point out.

Trixie rolls her eyes. “I meant we could share, you goof,” she giggles, kissing you for the millionth time.

The gears click in your head; the heat of the moment has made you a little slow. “Oh, duh,” you tell yourself aloud, and Trixie giggles as she wraps her arms around you and holds you tightly. You place one arm underneath her legs and lift her up. She nuzzles your neck as you carry her to your room and gently lie her down on your bed. You lie down next to her as she scoots closer to you and holds you in a tight hug. You both stare at each other, smiling lovingly and unmoving, until you both fall asleep in one another's embrace.

/\//\//\//\//\

You wake up to a faint sizzling sound, accompanied by the smell of bacon. You get out of bed and investigate, poking your head into the kitchen. Trixie is standing at the stove, working on breakfast, and she smiles at you. “Well, look who finally decided to wake up!” She says teasingly. “Sleep well?”

You yawn and nod, smiling drowsily. “Didn't know I had bacon,” you mumble as the thick, smoky aroma makes your stomach roar in anticipation.
Trixie smirks. “It doesn't look like you have much of anything around here,” she remarks. “Do you eat anything besides cereal and granola bars?”

You shrug. “I grab a burger from the gas station on the corner every once in a while,” you reply defensively. “Money's kinda tight right now; whatever doesn't go into rent goes toward my music studio.”
Trixie nods and walks over to you. “Well, maybe you could use a little help around here,” she says coyly. “I could get a job somewhere nearby, help out with rent and grocery shopping, provide company… what do you say?”

She’s smiling with teasing confidence, but there’s also a hint of fear in her expression; she suspects that you might say no and throw her out, like everyone before you. “Of course,” you say with a warm smile, and you give Trixie a comforting hug. “Under three conditions,” you add slowly when you let her go.

Trixie raises an eyebrow. “Conditions?” She repeats.
You nod, grinning slightly. “First, we're going out for dinner this Friday,” you begin. “I've been saving some money for some computer parts, but I think we should celebrate. Second, you have to stay out of trouble; that means no more stealing from work.” Trixie lowers her head ashamedly as you say this, so you place a gentle hand under her chin and smile comfortingly. “And three, you have to promise that no matter what happens between us, if you ever need anything, you'll come back here.”

/\//\//\//\//\

You must have gotten an unusual stroke of foresight on that particular morning, acknowledging the fact that a relationship between you and Trixie wouldn't last forever. She simply vanished one day, leaving behind nothing but a folded-up note card that said “Sorry” on one side, and “I Love You” on the other. She didn't take anything that didn't belong to her; she even left the pajamas you had let her use.

You sit on your couch, alone and confused as you feel a crying fit coming on. Your life had seemed so perfect for what felt like just a few moments, but now that she was gone it seemed like you were worse off than before. You glare at the note card in your hand and crush it angrily, but when you open your palm, you noticed that there was writing on the inside as well. You smooth out the piece of stock and read Trixie’s farewell words, hearing every syllable in your head as if it was spoken aloud by her sweet voice.

Anon,

I can't begin to tell you how sorry I am for leaving you so suddenly. During the last few years before I came back to town, I've made some unpleasant friends who aren't very keen about letting go of the past, and I didn't want to put you in danger by sticking around. I'll try to get in touch with you again once I've sorted out my issues, but until then… keep doing what you do. Make your music late at night. Go for walks after it rains. Help out homeless girls sitting in puddles of filth with no place in the world.

You're a good person, Anonymous. I'm sorry it took so long to see that for myself.

Love you always,
-Trixie

The corners of your eyes are wet with tears, but not from sadness; you move your thumb from the bottom of the card, and read the last line aloud as you completely break down.

“P.S: Thank you for the second chance.”