A Promise to a Butterfly

by Black Paint

Rating: teen
Tags: Drama, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Fluttershy, Original Character, Suicide / Self Harm, Slice of Life, Sad
Length: 4792

When Black Paint starts relapsing into his depression, he accidentally gives Fluttershy his suicide note after failing to go through with an attempt. When she finds out about it, she does her best to help him get through the pain.

Black Paint starts relapsing into depression for the first time in several years, restarting his old habit of cutting and even seriously contemplating suicide. After failing to go through with an attempt, he accidentally gives Flutttershy his suicide note at her birthday party. When she confronts him about it, she gets him to open up about his thoughts and find another way to cope with the pain.

Published 2018-01-29 05:50:06 UTC
Last updated 2018-01-29 05:50:06 UTC

A Promise to a Butterfly

Author's Note

In all seriousness, guys, depression sucks and it can be really hard to get out of it. Consider talking to someone you trust if you feel depressed or are considering suicide, it can help a lot.

I'm still fairly new to fictional writing, so any bits of constructive criticism or feedback are welcome. Seriously, leave me a comment or message me. I'd love to know what you guys think of my writing!

Also, feel free to check out the sort-of prequel to this piece: Repainting Friendship. Hope you liked the story!

A Promise to a Butterfly

To my dear friends,

I’m sorry that you have found me this way and that I have left you like this, but I just couldn’t take the pain anymore. I just feel worthless and that I was a mistake. I feel like I don’t belong anywhere, except on my own. I don’t want you to feel like it was your fault, any of you, because it isn’t. I’m so sorry to have caused you any pain and hope that you are able to move past this quickly.

-Black Paint

I put the pencil down on my desk, sealed the note in an envelope, and placed it on my nightstand, where a bottle of cyanide capsules was waiting for me. I took the cap off of the small, plastic tube and poured its contents into my hoof. I stared at the little pills for a long time, only inches away from my lips, waiting for my brain to give the signal to proceed.

Nothing.

Instead, I found myself pouring the capsules back into the bottle. What was I doing? I couldn’t do this, not to my friends. I took the envelope off of my bedside table and tossed it back onto my desk, hopefully to be forgotten for a while.

After a few more seconds of wrestling with my emotions, I opened one of the drawers and took out a manual pencil sharpener, the screw that held the blade in place no longer there. I took the blade out of the sharpener, grasped it firmly between my teeth, and took a seat on the side of the bed. Slowly, I lowered the sharp edge to my left wrist and pressed it against the skin, the urge to see my own blood welling up inside of me. I made a swift motion to the right with the blade, feeling the sting of the metal biting into my flesh and a drawing a few drops of crimson liquid, staining my grey fur.

After making several repeated strokes, I dropped the blade back into the drawer, a high-pitched ‘cling’ echoing off the wood. I released a heavy sigh as I walked down the stairs to the kitchen to get a paper towel. That was the first time I had seriously considered suicide in a long while, the self-harm had started up again about a month ago. I felt like I couldn't even do that right; like I was too scared to make more than a few drops of blood come out of me with each cut.

I tore a sheet off of the roll on the counter, rubbing it against the haphazard, bright red lines and the old, faded pink ones. I hated myself, I hated that I was so selfish as to even think suicide was a good idea. I guess that’s why I cut myself, to relieve myself of the guilt of being a terrible pony, and although I would never admit it to anypony I liked the way the scars looked; they made me look as broken on the outside as I felt on the inside.

My depression started when I was in high school. I was the new kid: completely friendless, with my social anxiety too high and my confidence too low to make new ones. I felt like a complete outsider, and pushing everyone away was sort of my way of dealing with it. It didn’t help though, as the feelings of loneliness began to build up inside of me. I didn’t understand why I felt so sad, because I’ve been friendless most of my life and because I grew up extremely fortunate in life. Both my parents gave me almost everything I wanted, so I felt guilty for being miserable when I had no reason to be. It was added to a long list of things I felt sorry about, including lots of little things that had happened several years ago. Then my grades started to slip. Deadlines and assignments became more of an option in my eyes. I was tired of keeping up with the A's and B's to which I was held and began to slip into C's and D's, which, consequently, made me feel even more guilty.

I had lost any value that I saw within me and it was completely crushing my will to live. The repeated cycle of mental torture eventually became too much for me, which is when I started cutting myself and writing suicide notes. When my parents found out they sent me to a therapist, who helped me get my mind in a slightly better place than it once was. I’ve always had a bit of lingering depression from those years, but it never really bothered me much until recently.

Perfection is my fatal flaw. Nothing that I did was good enough for me, and I never did very well when it came to public speaking. Last month I had completely blanked on a presentation that I had volunteered for in one of my art classes. My overwhelming anxiety had turned it into a living nightmare: I just stood there completely frozen, trying to get myself back on track, but I was so stressed that I couldn’t focus on anything going on around me. Tears of embarrassment slowly made their way down my face as the voices in my head kept talking over each other:

Look at them all staring at you and judging you.

You don’t know anything, you’re terrible at this.

Stop thinking too much, you can do this!

No you can’t, just kill yourself!

SAY SOMETHING, YOU IDIOT!

RUN, JUST RUN AND NEVER SHOW YOUR FACE AGAIN!

LOOK AT YOUR NOTES, FOR CELESTIA’S SAKE; THIS IS WHY YOU MADE THEM!!

KILL YOURSELF, YOU WORTHLESS PIECE OF TRASH! END THE PAIN!!

STOP!!! EVERYONE JUST STOP!!!!

I stopped going to class for a long time after that, too ashamed to show my face to anypony. That screw-up was the crack that burst the dam. All the self-loathing I had been restraining finally came flooding back; I was exactly where I was last time: pushing everyone away, feeling guilty about stupid things, and becoming suicidal again. All I could think about was how worthless I was.

Suddenly, there was a quick, impatient knocking at the door, snapping me out of my trance; I wasn’t expecting anypony to come over. Throwing the bloodstained towel into the trash, I made my way over to the door, pulling my jacket over me to hide the scars. I opened the door to see a cerulean pegasus pony with a rainbow mane and a slightly irritated expression hovering in front of me.

“Paint!” Rainbow Dash shouted, “Where in Equestria have you been?!”

“What are you talking about, Dash?” I asked, completely confused.

“What am I talking about?” she exclaimed, “I’m talking about the party!”

My puzzled expression remained the same as I pushed my glasses into place, “Uh, what party?”

“Duh, Fluttershy’s birthday party at Sugarcube Corner. Pinkie sent you an invitation a week ago.”

I looked over at the enormous pile of unopened mail on my counter, a yellow envelope with pink butterflies poking out of the side. I facehoofed so hard I could have sworn I cracked my skull. Fluttershy’s birthday! How could have I forgotten my best friend’s birthday? I even made her a card two weeks ahead.

Stupid. Stupid! STUPID!

“Seriously, Paint, what’s been up with you lately?” Rainbow questioned, “This is the third time you’ve left us hanging this week. This isn’t like you.”

I tugged nervously on my jacket sleeve. I didn’t want to tell Dash that the reason I missed so many of the group’s hangouts was because of my despondency. The emotional toll took up so much of my energy that I preferred to lie in bed all day moping than spend it doing the things I liked. Even if I did have the energy, I was beginning to lose interest in said things at an alarming rate.

After we became friends, Fluttershy had decided to introduce me to the other Elements of Harmony. It took a while, but after a few times of inviting me out, we all became good friends. Still, even though we’ve known each other for a long time, I didn’t have the nerve to tell any of them about my lingering depression from my school years, not even Fluttershy.

“I’ll-I’ll be there in a minute, go on ahead, I have to go get Fluttershy’s card off my desk,” I told Dash as I began to shut the door

“Hurry up!” she complained. In a sudden blast of wind she was nothing more than a rainbow blur that sped in the direction of Ponyville

I kicked the door shut, then ran up the stairs to get the gift bag out of my closet. The door already ajar, I picked up the bag stuffed with several sheets of colored tissue paper that concealed Fluttershy’s presents and blindly grabbed the envelope off my desk, stuffing it in with the gifts as I ran out the front door.

When I arrived at Sugar Cube Corner, I was completely exhausted, sweat dripping off my brow as I approached the steps. The swinging doors suddenly burst open as a large amount of confetti showered down on me and a pink earth pony grabbed me by the shoulders.

“You’re here!” Pinkie Pie exclaimed as she dragged me inside.

I suddenly found myself in the middle of the main dining room of the small bakery. To my left, Applejack and Rarity were in the middle of a round of Pin the Tail on the Pony.

“A little to the left,” instructed Applejack, “No, the right... no, wait, I was right, to the left.”

A blindfolded Rarity held the fake tail in her magic grasp as she stamped her hoof in frustration.

“Honestly, Applejack,” she snorted, “that’s the sixth time you’ve corrected yourself. Left or right, which is it?”

To my right, I saw Rainbow Dash, Twilight, and Fluttershy having a light conversation by the punch bowl.

“... so then, after Rainbow Dash left, Starlight told told me that she could scientifically prove that my head is, in fact, the perfect shape of an egg,” Twilight narrated, “So then, I told her that if she could prove it, then I would let her teach my next lecture at Princess Celestia’s school.”

“Then what happened?” Fluttershy asked.

“She actually did it,” Twilight brought a hoof to her face, “I didn’t think it was actually possible, I even ran the calculations through my head,”

Both Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy burst out laughing.

“I told you,” the prismatic pegasus smirked cockily.

“Do you know how embarrassing it was to send a letter to the Princess, telling her that my pupil would be replacing me at my own lecture because I lost a bet?”

The pair of pegasi continued laughing.

“Cake?” Pinkie had suddenly appeared from somewhere above me, upside-down, holding out a piece of vanilla cake with pink and yellow vanilla frosting, which somehow managed to stay on the plate despite the fact that it too was also completely upside-down.

“Thanks, Pinkie,” I said through the handles of the gift bag as she turned right-side-up. I took the cake in my hoof as Pinkie bounced off to join in Rarity and Applejack’s game. I sighed deeply and set my bag down along with the cake that was to be forgotten; as much as I loved Pinkie’s baking I didn’t feel like eating anything today. When I turned back, Fluttershy had finished talking with Twilight and Rainbow Dash and was making her way over to me.

“Paint,” she said as she gave me a friendly hug, “I’m so glad you made it.”

“Sorry I’m late,” I told her as I gave a weak smile and returned the embrace, “I don’t know how today slipped my mind. Happy birthday, ‘Shy.”

“Thank you,” she replied, releasing me. She was wearing a pale green party hat with pastel pink polka dots that was tilted off to one side; she looked so adorable. I felt so guilty for forgetting her birthday, another reason to hate myself.

“Alright, everypony!” Pinkie called out, “Time for the birthday filly to open her presents!”

“Oh, I don’t know, Pinkie” Fluttershy protested as everypony gathered around, “I wouldn’t want to make a show of it.”

“Oh, come on, silly,” Pinkie gushed as she pushed Fluttershy toward the gift table, “it’ll be fun!”

“Oh, uh, okay, if you say so,” the obsequious pony submitted as she selected the first gift.

After about fifteen minutes the table was emptied. Within the wrapping paper that had once encased Fluttershy’s new treasures were a book on the care of rare creatures from Twilight, a hoof-stitched quilt from Applejack, a stylish sun hat and matching sunglasses from Rarity, a Hinny of the Hills poster signed by the original Bridleway cast from Rainbow Dash, and a plush orthros to add to her collection of stuffed animals from Pinkie.

“Wow, these are all so amazing,” Fluttershy remarked with a wide grin on her face, “Thank you, everypony!”

“No problem, Fluttershy,” Rainbow Dash replied, gliding to the space in the room where the tables and chairs had been cleared out, “Now, who’s ready to hit the dance floor? I have some new moves I’ve been wanting to show off all day.”

“Hold on there, Dash” Applejack interrupted, turning her gaze towards me, “I think someone else might have one more present for Fluttershy.”

“Oh, al-right,” Rainbow Dash whined, flying back over to the group.

I brought my gift over to Fluttershy, “More like two presents and a card.”

“Oh, Paint, you shouldn’t have,” Fluttershy blushed.

“I couldn’t help myself,” I told her as I set the bag on the table, “I finished making your first present and card, then found your second present on a trip to Canterlot and knew you’d love it.” I pushed the bag closer, “Go ahead, open it.”

She took out the first layer of tissue paper and extracted a small, white plastic tray with several clear paint tablets embedded in it, the sticker on top read ‘Canterlot Enchanted Art Supplies’.

“It’s watercolor paint,” I explained, “it changes to whatever color you need so that you won’t have to keep buying different tablets or mix the colors.”

“It’s just what I needed,” the yellow pegasus praised as she set it beside her other gifts and started on the second layer of paper.

She soon reached in and brought out a medium-sized canvas. Her eyes widening as she brought a hoof to her mouth, and everypony let out an ‘ooh’ of amazement. It was an eleven-by-fourteen-inch acrylic painting of Fluttershy, surrounded by all of her critter friends at their favorite picnic spot in the Everfree Forest, the colors vibrant and practically flowing off of the canvas. I awkwardly scratched my head with my right forehoof, casting my eyes to the side of the room.

“Not exactly my best work,” I told her, “It’s a little cartoony, and I can’t really paint anything other than ponies all that well ...”

Fluttershy turned to me and gave a genuine smile.

“It’s lovely,” she told me, “I could never paint something as wonderful as this.”

It was my turn to blush, “Thanks, but I’ve seen you paint, you totally could.”

“Maybe,” she admitted, still marveling at the painting, “but I could never imitate care and thoughtfulness you put into it.” She smiled again, “Thank you, Paint.”

“You’re welcome,” I responded, thinking she was just being nice.

“Don’t forget about the card!” Pinkie shrieked.

“Oh, yeah, right,” I said, “It should be in there somewhere.”

It took a few seconds, but Fluttershy finally fished out the envelope that had been stashed in the bag. She carefully opened the flap, bringing out the piece of paper inside and unfolding it. As her eyes scanned the message, the grin on her face slowly disappeared.

“What does it say? What does it say!?” Pinkie inquired excitedly, bouncing up and down.

Fluttershy quickly slid the paper back into the envelope.

“Uh, it just says ’Happy birthday!’” she replied, sticking it back into the bag.

Pinkie looked a little disappointed, “That’s it?”

“That’s it,” the yellow pegasus insisted, her eyes darting nervously between her friends.

Something was off, why did Fluttershy seem so nervous telling Pinkie that all I wrote in my card was a simple ‘Happy birthday’? Unless...

“Are you sure, darling?” Rarity was intrigued, “you seem to be awfully anxious about-”

“So, uh, who wants to dance,” Fluttershy quickly changed the subject.

“Ugh, finally,” Dash groaned, zipping back over to the dance floor, the music already started, “Now, who’s ready to witness my awesome dance moves?”

Eventually, everypony had followed Rainbow Dash as a Sapphire Shores track started blaring through the speakers. I didn’t like dancing in front of others, but Fluttershy usually enjoyed at least a little bit of dancing at small parties like this, which is I was surprised when the yellow pegasus had taken a seat next to me at one of the tables.

“Aren’t you gonna join them?” I asked her. “You love this song.”

“I’m... just a little tired right now,” she told me, “I’ll join in later.”

Song after song after song had played, but not once did Fluttershy leave her seat to get up and dance with the others, not even to do the Chicken Dance with Pinkie. She just watched everypony else while glancing over at me every so often, like she was scared to leave me by myself.

Soon, the energy of the party had dwindled and everypony was ready to go home. Everyone waved and called to each other as they all went in their separate directions. Fluttershy and I walked along the path to our homes in uncomfortable silence, the setting sun behind us as we shared the load of presents between us. As we approached her cottage, I stole a quick glance at her expression. She looked deep in thought, and also a little worried, as if she wanted to say something but couldn’t bring up the nerve to say it.

Fluttershy opened her front door, the small orange tabby named Jasmine came to greet us and wove herself between our legs as we made our way over to the coffee table. I set the presents I was carrying on top of it, Fluttershy doing the same. She stood there for a minute, staring blankly down at the table with the same expression on her face, biting her lower lip.

“I should get going,” I said quickly and turned to the door.

Fluttershy put a hoof on my shoulder to keep me from leaving, her big, teal eyes looked a little watery. She sniffled as she reached into my bag, pulling out my letter and presenting it to me.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked in a shaky voice as I took the envelope and opened the card.

Sure enough, the four words that I didn’t want to be there, along with today’s date, were written in pencil in the top left corner of the page: To my dear friends ...

I slowly sat down on the floor, suddenly unable to find the strength to stand. Fluttershy sniffled again as she looked down at her hooves.

“W-why didn’t you t-tell me?” she asked again, her voice weak and beginning to stutter.

“Fluttershy...” I began, reaching out with my left foreleg to comfort her. I immediately realized it was a mistake, as my sleeve pulled up slightly at my extension, revealing the scars on my wrist. She let out a tiny gasp as she saw them.

She brought her own hoof to meet mine and she gingerly ran it across my foreleg.

“Oh... Paint...” her voice cracked.

A lone tear rolled down her cheek, then another, and another. Her face contorted into a pained grimace as she rushed forward and fell into me, beginning to cry, holding onto me as if I were about to suddenly disappear.

“Oh, ‘Shy,” I whispered, as I stroked her mane in an attempt to soothe her, “I’m so sorry. Come on, not on your birthday.”

We stayed there for several minutes, Fluttershy continuing to sob into my jacket, the tears soaking into the fabric. As time progressed, my own vision became blurred, kicking myself for hurting her. How could I have been so stupid? Why didn’t I check to make sure I had the right envelope before I left? And now my best friend was upset because of me. If I didn’t absolutely loathe myself already, I certainly did now.

Over the span of several minutes, Fluttershy’s heavy sobs gradually dissolved into light hiccups and she found the strength to sit up again.

“I’m - hic - sorry,” she wiped her eyes, “It’s just - hic - you could have come to me, Paint, - hic - any of us.”

“I know that,” I answered shamefully, “I should have known that, and I should have come sooner.”

“So, *sniff* why didn’t you?” she repeated her unanswered question.

“I... I just didn't want to hurt you. I reasoned that if I didn't tell you, you wouldn't be,” the tears that had built up finally came spilling out. "Oh Celestia, ‘Shy, I’m so incredibly sorry!”

A sad smile appeared on her muzzle, telling me that she understood, but it quickly faded.

“I just...” she trailed off.

“What?”

She avoided my eyes, “Nothing, it’s none of my business.”

“No, it’s okay,” I assured her as I began to collect myself, “What?”

She hesitated before speaking, “I just don’t understand why you would want to... to-” she started to tear up again, hiding behind her mane.

“I’m not perfect,” I interrupted, I didn’t want her to start again, “I don’t like being not perfect.”

She pulled her hair back as she brought her gaze back to me.

“Nopony’s perfect.”

“I know that,” I told her, “and I know it sounds dumb, but it bothers me so much. I mean, you and your friends have saved Equestria, like, a million times. You all possess qualities that I wish I even had half of: Twilight’s superior intelligence, Dash’s abundant confidence, AJ’s incredible tenacity, Pinkie’s bubbling optimism, Rarity’s beautiful creativity, and your radiant compassion. And here I am, the artist who is a complete emotional mess and useless. I just don’t understand why ponies as amazing as all of you would choose to be friends with someone as un-amazing as me.”

I looked down at my hooves, ashamed of what I was about to admit next, “This morning, I felt that I would never measure up to my standards, that no one would ever understand what I'm going through, that I wasn’t worth anything to any of you, that... none of you would even mind much if I just... you know..."

Fluttershy brought a hoof under my chin and raised my head so that our eyes met again. She had a thoughtful look on her face as she spoke.

“So, what stopped you?” she asked as she retracted her foreleg.

“Wh-What?”

“Something held you back, what do you think it was?”

The question stunned me. I hadn't anticipated that she would just accept my explanation at face value.

“U-uh, w-well,” I stuttered, trying to regain my train of thought, “I guess... I guess it was because of you,” I said at last, “I just couldn’t leave you guys like that... especially you; I think I knew, in the back of my mind, that you would take it the hardest.”

Her small grin returned and her cheeks turned a soft shade of rose, but she nodded in understanding.

“I had a feeling it might be something like that,” she told me, “you may have more in common with your friends than you think, Paint.”

“What do you mean?” I questioned.

“You put your friends first in a painful situation,” she answered, “that’s something I would do.”

I gave a meek, polite smile, “I guess so, but still...”

“Paint, you may not know it, but I can see a small part of each of our friends that clearly shines in you,” she told me, “You always know how to cheer me up when I’m feeling low, if you ask me that takes both optimism worthy of Pinkie and problem analysis worthy of Twilight. And years ago, when you took on that timberwolf that had me and my chickens cornered, that was one of bravest things I’d ever seen; you didn’t give up fighting, not even for a second. Applejack and Rainbow Dash would have been proud.”

I rubbed my right shoulder, where the timberwolf bit me; there was still a faint scar where the wound used to be.

“And,” she continued, “although I’m not completely sure, I think I saw Rarity look at your painting with a little envy when you gave it to me.”

We both chuckled at that last one. Imagine the empress of fashion being jealous of my art skills.

Fluttershy’s smile grew warmer as it widened, “Friends have a way of bonding themselves to the parts in us that most resembles themselves,” she said, “and as the friendship grows, the bonds become seamless, and the different personalities become one.”

I stared at her, astonished, “Wow, ‘Shy, that was... really deep,” I remarked.

“I guess so, but you’re missing the point,” her expression became slightly more serious, “You shouldn’t think so negatively of yourself,” she told me, “When we first knew each other you were about as quiet and shy as I used to be, but ever since you became friends with me, and everyone else, there’s been a definite change in you, Paint. You’re more expressive, more confident. You’ve formed connections with everypony that will never be broken,” she pulled me in for one last embrace, “and that’s worth everything to us,” she whispered to me.

More tears came to me, but this time they were filled with relief and gratitude. I squeezed Fluttershy tightly as I let them fall into her soft pink mane.

“Thank you, Fluttershy,” I said quietly, “I feel a little better now, really I do. I guess I never realized how much I needed someone to listen to me."

"Sometimes we just need somepony to listen without an opinion," she told me, "I may not perfectly understand what you're going through, but I'm always here if you need to talk."

"Thank you. And I promise you, if I ever get like this again I’ll try to get help sooner.”

Fluttershy suddenly loosened her grip and came back into view in front of me, staring sadly at my scarred forelegs peeking out from underneath my sleeve.

“Promise me something else?” she requested.

“What?” I asked, curious.

“Do you have a marker?”

I happened to have a pink one that I had accidentally left in my jacket pocket and gave it to her. She uncapped it and held it in her teeth as she took my foreleg and carefully drew symmetrical curved lines around one of the scars. She recapped the marker. She had turned my scar into a pink butterfly that sort of resembled the ones on her cutie mark.

“If you ever feel like hurting yourself, promise me you’ll draw a butterfly around one of the scars instead,” she looked at me pleadingly, “so when it disappears, it will fly away with any pain that caused it.”

I looked down at my wrist, the drawing looked very out of place amongst the scars. But as much as liked the way the chaotic lines looked against my fur, I liked the way the butterfly looked even better.

“I’ll do you one better,” I told her, “I Pinkie promise you. Cross my heart and hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye." I mimed the accompanying motions, making it official.

“I’M HOLDING YOU TO THAT!” came a distant screech from the apparent direction of Sugar Cube Corner.

We looked at each other for a moment, then burst out laughing, the butterfly on my wrist carrying away both of our pain.