Two Sides of The Same Coin

It’s already the late afternoon when we step out of the bakery. Anton and Spike walk ahead, talking between themselves. I keep silent behind them, fixing my gaze on the ground between us. They glance back at me when they think I’m not looking, Spike being the more obvious of the two. I don’t care, though. I’m hardly in the mood to talk.

“So, Anon.” Spike asks, craning his neck. “How d’you feel about Ponyville so far?”

“I hate it and I want to go home,” I deadpan. “What’s all this about a Magic Mirror?”

The dragon winces a little. “Well, it’s called the ‘Crystal Mirror’. A while back, Twilight and I used it when somepony stole a really powerful artifact from us. It sent us to a completely different world! It was crazy; I got turned into a dog, Twilight looked like you guys, and she had to go to high school.”

“What.”

“Okay, well long story short, we gathered from Anton that the mirror leads to your world. You guys are ‘humans’ right? Yeah, there were tons of those over there. We’re not completely sure how you guys got here without turning into ponies, but either way the mirror should get you guys back home.”

I sigh. “...Great.”

We continue in silence. Although the streets of the town are alive with ponies, it feels densely quiet. Soon, we approach a large tree in the distance, its leaves reaching up high above all the neighboring buildings. At least, I thought it was a tree. The closer we get, the sharper the details become in the sun’s shadow, and the more defined the jagged shards of its trunk grow. What I had thought were branches snake sharply, like lightning, and the leaves seem to morph into bricks. My jaw drops as I realize that this “tree” is made entirely of crystal, and it supports a huge stone castle atop its branches, like leaves. At its highest point, a large multi-pointed star sits, similar to the design on Twilight’s rump. The sound of rushing water grabs my attention as we walk closer, and I glance at another building adjacent to the castle, built directly into a waterfall.

“Alright, we’re here!” calls Spike as we approach the steps to two large wooden doors.

“What is this place?” I ask.

“Welcome to the Castle of Friendship!” Spike extends his wings while he speaks, shooting into the air and turning to us, spreads his arms wide to exaggerate the title.

I push past him, trudging up the steps. There really is no end to my disappointment today, is there?

The door opens as I approach, and another tiny horse walks out. Her coat, while a similar purple Twilight's, is a bit lighter. Her mane and tail are also a dark purple, with a single aquamarine stripe running down its length. The insignia on her rump shows a purple and white star, with two blue streams running off it up and to the right.

“Oh, excuse me,” she says, purple eyes wide and stepping aside for me.

“Hey Starlight!” cries Spike, swooping over to us. “I’m just showing these two visitors to their rooms.”

“‘Rooms?’” I repeat, “Who said anything about us living here?”

“Well yeah, it’s gonna take a while before the mirror’s ready. Didn’t Twilight or Anton tell you that?”

Anton dodges my eye.

“I…sorry.” He whispers.

“Evidently,” I say, turning back to Spike. “No.”

“Oh, well it’s nothing to worry about. Everything should be in order tomorrow morning. You’ll just be staying here over the night while we finish getting everything ready-”

Blowing air out my nose, I push through the castle doors. Nope, don’t give a shit. Stop giving a shit, Anon. God.

This whole place makes me sick to my stomach.

As I pass through the door frame, I let out a low whistle. Deep blue walls surround the perimeter of the entrance. Attached to the walls, tall pillars, made from some kind of crystal, support the ceiling. Various tall, green-tinted windows and doors easily twice my size, litter the walls in pairs. Small crystals and long banners of artwork hang from the ceiling, and numerous electric lamps hang high over every few doors, casting a yellow, yet gentle light across the expanse. Under me, a large red carpet drags forward, splitting into a four-way intersection, two leading to the halls to my left and right, and forward to another set of steps and doors.

Spike passes by me, back on the ground. He beckons a claw, turning to the left. “This way, please.”

I follow as he leads us down a hall full of unmarked doors. At the end of the hall, we climb up a spiral staircase to a second floor. As Spike enters into the new hallway, he stops in front of us, both arms spread to the side. “Well, gents, this is your stop. I decided rooms next to the staircase would probably be best for convenience. You're welcome.”

Like the floor under us, more unmarked doors clutter the hall. These ones, however, are purple instead of green, and come in groups of one, rather than pairs. I turn to the door on my right, giving the handle a twist. It turns easily, pulling open.

Spike’s voice echoes up the staircase. “I’ll call you guys down when dinner’s ready. You can just rest up until then.”

“Thanks Spike!” I hear Anton call out from behind me before I shut the door behind me.

The room was, for lack of a better word, simple. The entire room was made of marble, much to my dismay. A bed, probably on the small end for me, lay in the back left corner of the room, a large windowsill sits perpendicular to it, just above the right of the headstand. Under the windowsill lay a three-legged nightstand, and a small lamp sits atop it. On the back right corner of the room, a small desk and chair sits, with a large mirror built into the wall. On my right, I see a medium-sized dresser and a bookshelf, also built into the wall. I take a deep breath, and a sharp, sterile scent makes my nose wrinkle. Kicking my shoes off into an open corner of the room, I approach the bed. Sitting on its edge, I peer out the window. The sun had just begun its descent over the horizon, and underneath me various creatures run in and out of the waterfall building. On closer inspection, many of them don’t even look like ponies.

Raising my head toward the setting sun, I close my eyes, breathing deep as the golden rays wash over my face. This place is fucking crazy.

Obnoxious would be a better word. Insufferable, Annoying, Repul-

Okay, now it’s getting a little excessive.

Nonsense. Every minute spent in this place is akin to tortue. After all, I never asked to come here. I just want to go back home.

My hands ball into fists. And what about mom? She’s all alone, probably scared half to death where we went. How the hell am I going to explain where we’ve been this whole time? 'Oh yeah, sorry, we teleported to fucking lala land overnight with magic ponies, and friendship castles, and shit.'

Yes, exactly. And it’s all their fault that I’m here. It must be. I’m the victim here.

Me and Anton.

What about Antonymous? Who cares about that idiot? He obviously isn’t taking any of this seriously.

I scoff. It was a joke. I mean, granted, it was a pretty shit joke, but it was just a joke. I overreacted. I should go apologize-

A knock comes from my door.

“Hey, bro?” comes a familiar voice. “You mind if I come in for a bit?”

Well, speak of the devil.

“Sure Anton,” I call over my shoulder, “it’s cool.”

The door creaks as Anton enters, but I keep myself turned towards the window.

“Yeah, sorry for the bother.” Anton says, his footsteps growing closer. “Just having a bit of trouble falling asleep.”

Yeah, no shit, dude. We’ve been in our rooms for maybe 5 minutes before you decided to barge in.

I bite my tongue before I talk out loud and make things worse.

“You mind if I, uh,” he stammers. “You mind if I sit with you for a bit?”

I sigh, scooting closer to the headrest. Anton bounces onto the bed beside me, turning to the window. I follow his gaze. After a couple minutes of silence, my eyes drift to the floor, then to the twiddling fingers in my lap. I should probably say something.

You have said more than enough, Anonymous. Antonymous is a fool, and clearly holds no remorse for his actions. He's likely here only to further humiliate you. Discard him from your chambers im-

“I did think about her,” Anton finally says. I turn to look at him. Hugging his legs to his chest, he rests his chin on his knees, eyes locked on the window. “Mom, I mean. Every night, actually, if you can believe that. I was just, I dunno. When I saw you woke up, I got really excited, y’know? We never talk anymore, and I just wanted to spend some time with you. We aren’t as close as we used to be.”

“Anton,” I huff, “we talk all the time. And we’re, uh, pretty close.”

“Pfft, no we don’t, and no we aren’t.” He frowns at the floor. “Man, you’re always so distant, bro, and you never want to hang out. I get it, we’ve just grown apart.”

I turn back to the setting sun. What am I supposed to say to that?

It's all his fault. It’s his fault and you shouldn’t feel anything for him.

A knot forms in my stomach, and I suck in a breath to steady the pounding in my chest. No. No, that's not fair. It's not his fault we're here, it's not his fault I lost my temper, and it's not his fault that mom-

“Remember when we were kids?” Anton continues. “We used to do everything together. What happened?”

I sigh. “That was a long time ago. A lot’s changed since then. We’ve changed.”

“Well, some things changed more than others.”

I smack him on the shoulder. “Oy, how about you come down here and say that to my face?”

He chuckles. “Why brother, I have no idea what you may be talking about.”

“Whatever.”

Anton rubs a hand over his head “I mean it, though, the part about mom. Do you...how do you think she’s doing?”

“About as well as she can, I guess. Still, I can only imagine how confused and worried she must be.”

“I’m an idiot.”

“Hey now, that’s my line-”

“No, I mean it.” Anton turns away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you upset earlier. I was fooling around, and I got carried away, and...I’m sorry.”

I tilt my head. “Oh dear God. You’re not gonna cry, are you?”

“C’mon, bro.” He sniffs. “I’m not a kid anymore.”

“Sure you’re not.” Hooking my arm around his neck, I pull him closer. “You’re a tough guy, shedding adult, manly tears.”

Anton wipes his eyes before smiling back to me. “God, you’re such an ass. And please don’t bring that back up again.”

Suddenly, a dull ringing comes from outside the window. Down below, ponies start pouring out of the waterfall building, mingling between themselves in the courtyard. By the looks of it, there are even a number of non-pony things among them. Further down the main road, a pony walks out of her house to a garden and waters some flowers. Couples walk the streets nuzzling their partners, and I think I even see that dragon from earlier fly out to talk to some random white pony. Everything once again looks so peaceful from up here...

“...It’s almost like we’re in a dream.” I say. “Right, Anton?”

After a couple of seconds of silence, I turn to him. His head’s slumped forward, and the rise of his chest had slowed. He fucking fell asleep on me.

“You really are a fucking child, you know that?” I yawn. “And this is my bed, you actual penis.”

Cradling his shoulders and neck, I slowly lower him onto the bed. His head hangs off the edge, but at this point I could care less. Propping a pillow under my head, I lay down beside him. Settling down over the sheetsI close my eyes, focusing on my breath. Slowly, my thoughts begin to fog as the weight of my chest grows lighter.

I jump as a knock erupts from the door. The fucking timing here.

“Anon?” Spike calls from beyond the entrance. “Is Anton in there? He won’t answer his door and I’m gettin’ kinda worried here.”

“Yeah!” I call back. “We’re both in here, and we’re fine.”

“Great, well dinner’s pretty much ready! I’ll catch you guys downstairs!”

As the light pitters of Spike’s feet slowly disappear, I rub at my eyes. Groggily, Anton rises to his feet, stretching his arms to the ceiling. He takes a deep breath, and rests his hands on his hips.

“So, uh.” He says after a short pause. He turns to look back at me. “We cool?”

“Yeah, whatever.” I roll my eyes. “‘We cool’.”

Anton spins towards the doorway. “Fantastic cuz I’m starving-”

“Hold it there, tough guy.” I grunt, forcing myself to my feet. “You don’t think we’re done just yet, do you?”

“What’re you…” He cringes when I tap my forehead. “No. No way you’re bringing this back.”

“Just this once.”

“Can’t we just hug and say we’re sorry like normal people?”

I shake my head. “Hell nah, it’s practically our tradition. And I think I deserve at least one good shot, all things considered.”

Walking closer, I reach my hands out to Anton’s head. He recoils at first, craning his neck away, but slowly allows me to grasp his cheeks. I keep my grip firm, but light; years of practice with him ensuring I cause as little discomfort as I can.

“Well?” I ask.

Anton rolls his eyes, bending his knees to level himself with me. I slowly bring our heads closer, until only a fraction of an inch separates our mouths, our warm breath licking at each other's lips. I close my eyes and he does the same. Then, I reel my head back as far as I can, slamming the front of my skull directly into my brother’s forehead. A loud crack bounces off the walls as bone collides. In that moment, my vision goes white, and my body turns weightless.

I bite my lower lip, glaring at the half-completed Algebra worksheet on the table in the hopes that it may share with me its dark secrets. Unfortunately, my interrogation methods prove inadequate, and the paper remains unanswered. Man, why does 7th grade math have to suck so hard?

Sighing, I push back my dining room chair, and peek out the window. It’s a gorgeous autumn afternoon; the birds are singing, the flowers are blooming, and our front lawn looks like it's on fire with all the leaves my brother and I promised to rake up. I mean, we still have a couple hours before mom gets home, I can start on it when Anton gets back.

My eyes drift to the microwave clock. Looks like he’s a bit later than usual. That snake, he’s probably trying to get me to do most of the work again.

Leaping off the chair, I pace to our refrigerator. Pulling back a handle, I grab the freshly chilled chocolate bar from the refrigerator door’s shelf. I pull apart the tab on the back of the bar, and take a large whiff of its intestines.

Okay, putting that thought in the vault.

Feeling the saliva start to pool in my mouth, I swallow hard, slowly bringing the bar closer to my lips. Sorry, bro, but you have no one else to blame but yourself.

As one of the semi-sweet corners enters my mouth, my hand stops. I look down to see my other hand, wrapped tightly around the wrist holding the candy bar hostage. When I try to pull the chocolate bar closer, the other hand pulls in the opposite direction, leaving the bar in place.

“Oh come on,” I whine. “What’s a few bites? He’s not even here. What’s the point of sharing if there’s no one to share with?”

The bar, in response, twitches just a little farther out of reach.

“Okay look.” I plead. “I can just throw your wrapper in the neighbor’s trash. I’ll say it disappeared. No one has to know.”

I try sticking out my tongue, but that just prompts the chocolate bar to move even further away.

“Ugh, fine! I didn’t want to eat you anyway!” Tossing the bar back into the fridge, I slam the door. “Hurry the hell up, Anton. I swear to God when I see you, I’ll-”

Suddenly, I hear the front door open. Whispering a silent prayer of thanks, I run to the entrance..

“Jesus Christ, Anton.” I say as I round the corner. “Do you have any idea what time it...” My jaw drops as he closes the door behind him.

“Hey, Anon.” My brother says, sniffling. His face is covered in bruises, and his eyes are red and puffy. He’s got a cut on his arm and I can see both of his knees bleeding from under his shorts. The right strap of his backpack is completely ripped off and his t-shirt looks stretched to ruin. He’s also missing his left shoe. “Sorry I’m late. I, uh, got into a fight.”

“Oh my God, Anton!” I scream. “What the hell happened!?”

“Well,” Anton smiles weakly. “I got into a fight.”

I slam the palm of my hand into my forehead. “Well no shit, dude. Come on, we gotta get you cleaned up before mom gets home.”

Grabbing his hand, I drag him to the kitchen. I toss Anton some napkins, and after wetting some paper towels, I dab at his knees. He winces at my touch, but doesn’t say anything, reaching instead for a napkin and blowing hard into it.

“So…?”

“So?”

“So you gonna tell me why you thought it was a good idea to act like a dumbass or am I gonna have to beat you up too?”

“Anon, that’s not funny.”

“Great, cuz I’m not joking.”

Anton sniffles again, looking away. “I told you, I got into a fight.”

“Yeah, but why?”

“...'Cuz they made fun of me.”

“And they are…?”

“The guys from Shaker St.” He turns back when I don’t reply. “...Uhm, Anon?”

Balling up the paper towels in my hands, I stare up at my brother. “Anton, let me get this straight: you’re telling me that you, a fourth grader, decided to fight multiple ninth graders, because they made fun of you?”

Anton wipes away a few more tears from his face. “Yeah, I know Anon. I’m a big, dumb, stupid, idiot and all that other stuff you say-”

“No Anton, you’re a fuckin’ badass!” The napkin doesn’t move from Anton’s face.

“You really think so?” asks the napkin. I grab Anton’s wrist and gently pull down, revealing his bruised, confused face.

“Look at me Anton. Yeah you’re young, small, and inexperienced in fighting. But you rushed down a bunch of frickin’ high schoolers because they thought they could push you around! Hell yeah that’s badass! Pretty fuckin’ dumb, but badass.”

“I mean, I still got beat up...” He chokes, wiping furiously at his eyes.

I walk over to the sink, tossing the bloodied paper towels in the trash. Jesus, mom’s gonna freak when she sees this. Then she’ll probably call the schools, and make things worse.

I rub my chin. Yeah, if there’s anything that won’t make bullying stop, it’s crappy faculty that just want to write up less incident reports. Oh God, is he sniffling back there? He's gonna start crying again. Gotta think of something quick.

”Okay. I think I know what to do.” I walk back Anton, his Amber eyes gleaming back at me.

"What do you mean, Anon?" he asks, blowing into another tissue.

A toothy grin spreads across my face. “We’re gonna be tough guys.”

“...Tough guys?”

“Yeah, like Chuck Norris or Bruce Lee! If we get as tough as them, no one’s gonna wanna mess with us!”

My brother raises an eyebrow. “But Anon, how do we even be tough guys?”

“It’s quite simple, my dear little brother.” I strike a pose, planting a fist on my hip and shoving a finger to the sky. “We just have to do tough guy stuff!”

“What do tough guys do?”

“Whatever you can think of! Tough guys practice fighting, eat bowls of nails without milk, anything you imagi-”

“Like headbutts?” Anton asks excitedly.

“Exactly. Hella’ headbutts.”

“Hella’ Headbutts!” Anton roars, fists pumping in the air.

“Hella’ Headbutts!” I bend down to Anton and lower my voice. “Okay Anton, tell you what. We’re gonna be the toughest guys, but don’t tell mom about this.”

“But why not?”

“You know her, she'll just pull some lame excuse about ‘muh friendship’ and ‘turning the other cheek’.” Anton laughs at my impressions and nods vigorously.

“Okay, then.” I say. “Tell you what, we can make a game out of it.”

Anton's eyes brighten and he starts jumping in his seat. “Oh, okay! So what do we do first?”

“Alright, let’s see…” I pace the kitchen floor as I speak, “For our first tough guy rule, how about, whenever you or I feel upset with each other, the only way to make up is with a big, hearty headbutt!”

Anton furrows his brows and looks up to the ceiling. “I dunno, Anon. We get mad at each other a lot. Are our skulls hard enough to handle that?”

“That’s a good point, Anton! Since we get upset at each other so much, this’ll be the perfect way to practice. The pain will make you tougher! Then, nothing those losers throw’ll stop us! Trust me, Muay Thai fighters stuff like that all the time.”

Anton tilts his head. “Is this like how you thought Mrs. Lee was a vampire in disguise because she had a garlic allergy?”

“Okay, first of all, I’m still not convinced that woman’s human. Second, this is different ‘cuz I read this from a reliable source.”

“Where did you read it?”

“I don’t remember.”

“When did you read it?”

“I dunno.”

“Did you see who the author was?”

“You ask a lot of questions for a fourth grader, you know that?” I jab a thumb into my chest. “Just trust me on this one.”

“Oh, okay. If you say so!”

I nod. “Alright, you wanna try it out?”

“Sure!”

“Okay, I’ll kneel down so you can get a better angle.” I place both my hands on my brother’s head and lower my own until our foreheads meet. “Now close your eyes, and think about those ninth graders. Think about their mean words and how it made you feel. Think about their dump, stupid, idiotic faces as they laugh and point at you.”

Slowly, Anton’s hands curl into shaky fists.

“Good,” I say in a hoarse whisper. “Relish in the hatred. Embrace the darkness. Let it consume you.”

“Anon?”

“Yeah?”

“Chill.”

“ok.”

Anton takes a deep breath and slowly reels his head back. As he does, I can’t help but rethink my approach. Is it possible I’m making a terrible mistake here? I mean, I’m not even the one getting bullied here. And getting headbutt would probably hurt a lot. I should probably just tell him to try and talk it out, and let him deal with this on his-

A wave of pain pulls me back from my melancholic episode, the impact causing me to take a few steps back.

“Agh, FUCK!” I scream, cradling my forehead and blinking away black spots.

“Jesus Fucking Christ, bro!” I hear Anton scream, “Our 'tradition' fucking sucks!”

“The pain’ll make you tougher! Work through it, pussy!”

“Goddammit bro, I’m not in Elementary School anymore. Bullies are not an issue!”

“I was talking to MEEEEEeeeeeee,” I wail into the ceiling. My knees buckle and I keel over. Holy shit, I forgot how much this hurts. It feels like someone’s hammering a chisel directly into my head.

I muffle my agony into the marble floor. Out of the corner of my eye, Anton rolls on his back, weaving a colorful tapestry of words of his own. I feel the corners of my lips curl again and my back bounces as I struggle to contain my laughter. Anton looks over to me, a playful look back in his eyes.

“Yeah yeah, laugh it up bro.” He manages before curling up in his own fit. We stay like that for a while, rolling around and laughing like fucking children. When we finally push ourselves off the ground, my abs ache and I feel a little lightheaded.

“Okay, okay. Dinner?” I say, walking to and opening the door.

“Oh, why brother. Dinner sounds absolutely divine~” Anton coos, a large, red welt visible on his makes head. He promptly steps past me, into the hall.

I raise a finger to my own forehead, tapping it. A jabbing pain causes me to wince, and I pull my hand away. Yep, just like old times.

...
...
...
Well, this is unfortunate. I see I will have to try more direct measures.