Be a slightly worried Floor Bored, sitting on the couch as you wait for Anon to return. It's now going on three days since the morning after the arcade, and Anon has been acting strange. It almost feels like he has grown more distant, and you're afraid the conversation when you confessed how pathetic you felt has alienated him more than he let on.

It's not like he's outright avoiding you, but he has been spending more time out of the apartment, assuring that he's just getting exercise and exploring the neighborhood. That's fine, you tell yourself, and he even asked if you wanted to join.

Said offer sounded tentative to your ears, however, and that was enough for you to decline. Physical exertion and excessive socializing outside notwithstanding, you wouldn't insert yourself into an activity he wanted to do on his own. You've already forced yourself into enough aspects of his life as it is, so it's the least you can do to let him have some alone time if that's what he wants.

The fact that he wants it shouldn't sting at all, and certainly doesn't. Other little things unfortunately do. When you draw together, he seems quieter, hardly asking any questions at all. When you get up on the couch to sit with him, he no longer opens an arm in silent invitation for you to snuggle close. And worst of all was just this morning when you woke up to an already prepared omelet for breakfast.

You know you shouldn't let it get to you, but even now, he's been gone for nearly four hours since noon. Just then, your ear flicks in the direction of the door as you hear hoofsteps. Or more precisely, footsteps.

You're stepping down to the floor before he's even through the entrance. "Welcome back," you chirp with as much cheer as you can muster. "How was the walk? Find anything cool?"

"Oh, hey, Floor," he says, looking at the mare with a little shock. "You weren't... waiting for me, were you?"

You blink, and for some reason, you feel ashamed. "What? Nah, I just got a drink of water and decided to sit down for a sec," you bluff.

"Huh, well, the walk was fine. I actually ended up going all the way to the library," he explains, moving an arm to draw attention to the two books held against his side. "Long way on foot, but I did browse a couple shops, and on the way back, I picked us up something to eat." In his other hand, you notice a plastic bag. "Hope you like subs. The place was pretty busy, so I figure they must be decent."

"Oh... thanks," you say, forcing a smile. "Now we won't have to make dinner." You leave out the together and do your best to keep the smile plastered on your face as he rummages through the bag and hands you a foot-long wrapped in paper. It's teriyaki tofu, while his is garden vegetables slavered in spicy mayo.

You're about to ask if he wants to eat together, but the question dies on your lips as he sits down and holds up one of the books, reading the back while his other hand brings the sandwich up to his mouth. Without a word, you slink into your room, intent on eating at your desk in silence.

Be blank-faced Anon, currently reading one of the books Page Turner recommended now that your sandwich is done. The apartment is almost eerily quiet with only the sound of the pages ruffling as you turn them. Even the library wasn't this still, and you absently wonder if you could have stayed later.

Page Turner was excellent company as always, and was pleasantly surprised by your early visit. The two of you shot the breeze, you describing books from Earth and her trying to think of their Equestrian equivalences. While some she could only recommend similar stories, others, like Sherlock Holmes, she was surprised by. The mystery of the parallel books across universes is a fascinating one to be sure, though you doubt you'll ever find an true explanation.

Still, you remembered Floor Bored, and noticing the time, decided it would be best to ensure she ate something. Though now, you wonder if she could have just gotten herself something to eat. She's been learning to cook, and if that was too much effort, she could have eaten cereal.

You sigh and place the book aside after sliding a piece of paper between the pages you're on. You've forced yourself to read for an hour, but you just can't get into the story. It doesn't help that the book is a cheesy romance. Page Turner recommended it when you asked for something more recent, her explanation being that it was a bestseller a few month ago, so it must be at least somewhat good. It's looking like you'll be able to make her a recommendation next time you visit when you tell her not to bother picking it up herself.

With a sigh, you think about cracking open the other book you brought home, but decide against it. Instead you stand up, ignoring your worn leg's protests, and go to the sink to get a drink of water. You fill and sip at a cup as you turn around, eyes fruitlessly roving the room, looking for something to do. You suppose you could introduce yourself to the neighbors. You're pretty sure the stallion that helped you drag the couch up here lives just down the hall, and he seemed like a pretty chill guy.

You chug the rest of your drink and leave the cup on the counter. No, the sun will be setting soon, so it would be weird to go from door to door knocking. It's a good idea for tomorrow, but that doesn't help you now. Absently, you look at Floor's door, and bite the inside of your cheek. You could ask if she wanted to draw, you suppose, or maybe if you can use her computer on the off chance she's gearing up for a nap or something.

The thought of sitting at the desk immediately reminds you of what is in its drawer, and look away. What exactly are you doing? You know, of course, you're trying to avoid the mare who, until a couple days ago, you thought of as your best friend and one pony you could always just hang out with. But now, every time you're in the same room as her, you remember those drawings, and Ms. Index's words, and every interaction has a new context.

Does she compliment your shit art because she's you're friend, or because she has a crush on you? When she sits close, is it for comfort, or something else? And while you over-analyze her every action, you're measuring each of your own. Could telling her that sketch was good be construed as flirting? Does letting her curl against your side send the wrong signals?

And worst of all, would they really be the wrong signal? Yes, you always tell yourself. She's still recovering and vulnerable, and the last thing she needs right now is an intimate relationship like that piled on top of all the other craziness of her life. Then, when this conclusion is reached, there's always that treacherous little voice in the back of your head, accusing. It may be the wrong signal, but it's the one you want to send. And you hate yourself, because you know there's truth in that.

With a frustrated groan, you push your palms against your shut eyes hard enough to see blooms of color, then let them fall away. Regardless of those feelings, you know you can't avoid Floor completely. Besides living together, she still needs you to be her friend, if nothing else, so you decide to be that and go to her door. Gently, you rap your knuckles against the wood three times and call out, "Hey, Floor, you awake?"

"Yeah," you hear called back dully. "What's up?"

"I was just wondering if you want to draw together," you offer. "Maybe I can finish that sketch I had going of Matterhorn."

There's a moment of silence, then the sound of movement before the door cracks open. "... Really?" she asks, and your chest tightens.

The disbelief in her voice makes you feel guilty, but you force a smile. "Of course. How will I ever get any better without my awesome master teaching me her ways?"

She gives a smile of her own. "My ways are a secret, young student, but I suppose I can reveal some to you."

You both share an honest chuckle at the nerdy exchange before she retreats into her room. By the time she comes back out with the paper and pencils, you have a blanket spread out for the two of you to sit on. She eagerly flips open her sketchbook, the sight of it making your mind flash back to those confusing thoughts.

You quickly push them away and focus on your own drawing now set out before you. The lines are done, and aren't looking half bad if you don't say so yourself, but now it's time for shading. You've practiced some by drawing simple shapes like spheres and boxes, but a pony will be much harder.

True to her word, Floor constantly stops her own drawing to guide your through your own. After nearly forty-five minutes of this, you start to relax and enjoy yourself like you used to before everything became complicated. Your picture is also coming along nicely, a fact Floor is eager to tell you.

"Wow, Anon, you're getting really good at this," she says, smiling with pride.

"I've been learning from the best," you respond, getting a bashful blush to come to her cheeks.

"I'm not that good. If you keep improving like you are, you'll probably be better than me soon."

"Not if you keep getting better yourself," you point out, sitting a little straighter and pointing to her picture. It's a full page of Mane-iac trying, and failing, to hold back an enraged Saddle Rager. The characters are posed very dynamically, hatred clear in their expressions, and there's even a rudimentary background of a cityscape, something you haven't seen Floor do before.

You mention some of this, and Floor's blush grows. "I guess... watching you try so hard to get better inspired me to do the same."

Your own face flushes a little at that, and you look back down at your picture to hide it, giving an awkward thanks. Returning to your work, you absently go over some of the thicker shading with the eraser. Floor does the same, drawing windows into the buildings behind the action, her face becoming blank.

This goes on for several minutes before Floor pipes up. "I'm sorry."

You glance up, hand freezing. "For what?"

She doesn't meet your eyes. "For whatever I did to make you not want to be around me."

"Floor, I'm not-"

"You haven't been around a lot the last few days," she says, then quickly adding, "and that's fine. You don't have to stay for me... But we don't cook anymore, or sit with each other... We don't talk, and just now, I'm sorry if I said something that made you uncomfortable. I was being stupid."

"You weren't," you insist. "I was just... I dunno, flustered, I guess, when you said I inspire you. That's a pretty big compliment, you know? To be told you inspire someone; I was surprised."

She glances up at you through her bangs, eyes searching. "And the other things?"

You're mind struggles for answers, the excuses you gave yourself all those times bubbling up, only to die on your lips. You bought the subs because they were convenient... and so Floor wouldn't insist on cooking something together. Same reason you made breakfast before she was awake. Stretching your legs has been nice, but you only chose to do it so you could be away from this mare and all the turmoil she brings to your thoughts.

You can't say these things though. Not to her. Apparently, you don't have to. Your silence was enough for her to drop her head.

"I'm sorry," she whispers. "I'll leave you alone like you want."

You don't find your voice until she's already at the door. "Wait!"

She stops, but doesn't turn around, and your see her shoulders tremble. "Floor... I have been avoiding you," you finally say, grimacing. "But it's not anything you did... not really."

"T-then why?" she asks, still looking away.

You take a deep breath and let it out slowly before you begin to speak. "The day I came back from meeting with Ms. Index, you were sleeping on the couch," you say. "I didn't want to wake you, so I decided to use the guest account you set up on the computer for me."

She's facing you now, and it makes it harder to continue with her emerald green eyes on you, but you continue. "I needed to write something down, and decided to use a sheet from your sketchpad, but when I picked it up, I saw the drawings... the ones of us."

The words hang in the air for a few moments, then you see the understanding slowly dawn on Floor Bored. That, and the horror. "Even... even the one at the bottom?" she half asks, half squeaks.

You avert your eyes, and nod slowly. Something between a gurgle and a keening sound escapes the mare's throat before she whips around and flees into her room. You're already on your feet as the door slams violently, bounding over and yelling, "Floor, we can talk about this! We need to!"

You don't think she hears you over the constant stream of insults she's directing at herself, so you open the door. "Get out!" she immediately yells, and it takes a moment for you to locate from where. There, behind the overturned computer chair, you see the hind end of the pony scrambling to get under the bed.

"What are you doing?" you ask, stepping around the chair to kneel beside her. "Floor, this is ridiculous, you can't hide under the bed."

"I said go away!" she yells, though it's interrupted by a sob. "D-don't look at me!"

"I'm not mad," you try to assure. "I wasn't when I saw them. I was just... confused. Please, come out here and let's talk about this."

"No," she says, now almost completely hidden under the frame. "Just leave me alone!"

You frown, and steel yourself. "Fine, if you aren't going to come out, I'm coming in."

"What?!"

You're already shimmying under to join her before she can say more. "Anon! Get out from under my bed!"

You grunt and rotate yourself onto your side, barely fitting under the small space as you face Floor Bored with a determined expression. There are tears in those wide eyes and her mouth is slightly agape. "Floor, I mean it, I'm not upset, but we do have to talk about this."

"About what?" she manages, looking away. "It's just a stupid crush. I know that there's no chance, so we should drop it."

"No, we shouldn't," you say, reaching up to grab one of her forehooves gently. She gasps as you run a thumb over her hoof.

"Please, Anon," she whispers, tucking her chin into her chest. "Don't make this harder."

"What do you mean?"

"It hurts enough knowing we won't ever be... that. Knowing you could never want that. I just want to forget these feelings so we can still be friends."

"You think I could never love you?" you find yourself asking. "Floor, I already love you."

She barks a harsh laugh. "Yeah, like a best friend. I know."

"Yes," you concede, gathering up strength for what you're going to say next. "But that doesn't mean I could never love you as more." Her head whips up. "That's... Floor, that's why I've been acting... distant," you continue. "Listen, I like you. I like you a lot, actually, and the thought of us being... more, has crossed my mind."

"You're... you're lying," she breathes, tear whelming up and falling faster. "You're just trying to make me feel better."

"If I was trying to make you feel better, how would lying to get your hopes up work?" you question, bringing your other hand up to wipe tears from her face. "You're a great friend. Heck, you're a great mare, period. You're kind, funny," you chuckle a little, "You're humble to a fault, but always eager to learn and improve yourself." Your hand drifts to her mane, and her breath hitches as you run your fingers through it. "Any guy would be lucky to have you be their girlfriend, myself included... But it's too soon."

"What do you mean?"

You sigh, hand falling away. "We've only know a each other for a few weeks."

"That doesn't matter!" she blurts, reaching for your hand and holding it between her hooves. "If- if you really like me, we should at least give it a try, right?"

"It does matter though," you insist. "It's been a few weeks since we met... and since you tried to take your own life." You bring your other hand up to wrap around her hooves. "I don't want to sound cruel, but your mind was in a bad place, Floor, the worst. You've come a long ways, it's amazing just how much you've risen above that day... but how can I be sure you're ready for this? How do I know you really feel that way about me, or if you're not just mistaking gratitude or our friendship as something more than it is? I don't want to take advantage of you like that."

She doesn't answer for a long time staring at the hands and hooves folded together between you both. "I'm not crazy," she finally says. "At least, not so crazy to not know what I'm feeling for you. I might not know a lot, but I know I... I love you."

"I'm not saying you're crazy-"

"But you're afraid I might be," she interrupts, giving a small, tired smile. "That makes sense, and I don't blame you. I'm not right in the head. I know that. I want to get better though."

"And you will," you assure squeezing her hooves and looking her straight in the eyes. "You're stronger than you know, Floor."

She gulps, eyes shining even as her smile grows. Then she clears her throat. "So... you like me."

"Very much so, yes."

She blushes, but continues, "But you think it's too soon."

"After everything's settled, and you're the mare I know you can be, strong and independent... If you still want to give it a try, dating a schmuck like me, then I would be more than happy to."

"You really mean that?" she asks, hope and doubt in her voice.

You smile wide. "I hope it."

Then her hooves are around your neck and she's hugging you tightly. You return the hug with equal strength and the two of you lay together in silence. You speak up however when a dull ache in your side has you shifting uncomfortably.

"I'd love to stay like this for a while longer, but somethings been digging into my side ever since I crawled under here," you say, reaching a hand under your ribs to grab whatever it is. In the next second, you're holding a vibrator up, and Floor's face turns crimson.

"Oh... that's what that was," you say nervously, shifting your grasp as to hold it daintily between two fingers. You offer it to the mare and add, "I think this is yours."

Floor's eye twitches and her mouth hangs open, then, in the next second, the toy is snatched from your grasp and she's pushing you out from under her bed. You try to tell her it's nothing to be embarrassed about, but that only has her screaming louder.

"Get out! Get out!"

"Okay, okay, I'm going! Sorry!"

Author's Notes:

Hope the resolution didn't seem too fast for you. I think ti turned out alright though.

Anyway, here is a sketch by Shpace of the sketch Floor did that Anon found first before seeing the kissy one in the last chapter.