You're Anon, currently lounging on the couch, and finishing your second book. Only two days have passed since you picked them up, but you've had nothing by free time to read them.

The day after visiting her grandma, Floor didn't spend much time with you, mostly staying locked in her room instead, which you were okay with. You figure she probably had a lot she wanted to catch up with online, and also suspected she was still a little raw over the misunderstanding. That second reason is why you've done your best to not do anything that could be construed as overbearing by the little mare. It's best to let her come to you when she's feeling comfortable.

It's day three, however, and you think you can start showing the initiative again. "Hey, Floor, how's the new mouse working for you?" you ask when the mare steps out of her room at a quarter past noon.

"Hmm, uh, good, I guess. It works," she answers, glancing towards you before pointing, "I need to..."

"Oh, yeah, sorry," you quickly reply, "go ahead."

Trotting to the bathroom, Floor shuts the door behind her while you sit up. Slipping a bookmark in, you decide to save the last couple of chapters for later and set it on the floor with the others. It is a detective novel called, and you couldn't believe it, Fetlock Holmes. Fucking horse puns, man.

Despite it's eerily similar premise though, you are at least pleasantly surprised that the story is quite different than any of the Sherlock Holmes mysteries you remember reading back home. Being set in Equestria played a large part in that. Fetlock is an earth pony for one, and a large part of his character's deductive skills are played up by his vast knowledge of magical law that puts most unicorns to shame.

The other was Love and Tolerance, which you strongly feel is the Equestrian equivalent to War and Peace, especially with the swath of philosophical discussions in the latter half. The final book, which you have yet to touch and newest of the three, is the Friendship Journal, which was published by Princess Twilight Sparkle herself.

Since it seems to be meant to help ponies better grasp friendship, you think it might be helpful to read it with your anti-social ward. You hear the toilet flush and Floor steps into the living room a moment later.

She's on her way back to her room when you stop her. "Hey, Floor, you want to do anything today, Like, together, I mean."

She hesitates, and tilts her head. "Um, like what..."

"Well, we haven't gone out for coffee in a while, you want to do that? I'm kind of craving a mocha cappuccino."

She begins to smile a little and nod. "Y-yeah, that sounds nice. It'll help me not sleep so much, too. I've been doing that, like, eight hours a night... It's weird."

You can't help chuckle as the little mare grimaces. "Yeah, going cold turkey on caffeine will do that to you. You're looking better though, if that helps. Probably cutting out all those energy drinks is what did it."

"looking... better?"

"Mhmm, the rings under yours eyes are fading." She reaches a hoof towards her face as if to check, as you continue speaking. "Furs a little matted though. Want to squeeze in another bath tonight? You think you're sleeping better now, wait till you try it fresh out of the shower. Babies don't sleep that good."

She gulps, and slowly nods. "S-sure, that sounds... nice."

"Great," you say with a clap of your hands, before reaching one down. "That's for a later, though. Want to check out this book with me? It's Page Turner recommended, and with the other two being pretty good, I'm sure this is too."

The tentative smile that was forming falls along with her eyes. "No thanks, I'm not feeling much for reading right now... Maybe later."

"Oh, okay then," you respond, some of the cheer falling out of your voice as you wonder what you said that was wrong. "Maybe... drawing, than?"

Be Floor Bored, currently laying on a spread out blanket, doodling contently. The computer has been fun, and useful for helping get your... frustrations out, but it's nice to make your own drawings instead of clopping to others. You smile at the thought, once again thanking Anon in your head.

Back when you decided that life simply wasn't worth enduring any longer, drawing had been the last tether cut loose. And just like everything of value that has come back into your life since, Anon is the one who brought back your art. Still, you make sure to pay attention to your hoof while you draw this time. Don't want another page of embarrassing doodles torn out and hidden away in your desk drawer.

"Hey, this is actually looking vaguely pony-like," Anon says, tilting his paper for you to see. It looks like a potato on stilts.

You smile. "It does, maybe try to make the legs a little thicker, and the barrel more thin, though."

He looks down at it and tilts his head. "Good call."

You giggle lightly and return to your work. You're trying for something simple, but dynamic, with Spruce Spanner standing meekly while being overshadowed by the hulking silhouette of Saddle Rager. Though you might idolize Zapp the most out of the Power Ponies, you relate with the shy pegasus more.

Like her, you're easily overlooked, but also hide something ugly inside. The big difference being of course that the Saddle Rager is a destructive force for good, and you're just a pervert. That's not useful to anypony accept for the owner's of PornStable, and you stopped paying for that stuff years ago.

Over the next hour and a half, you finish your sketch, along with another, and Anon draws an okay stallion. He was trying for a mare, but at least it's equine-looking, so progress.

After that, he makes you both some peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and you sit side by side on the couch to eat. "I still can't get over how good you are at drawing," he comments after swallowing a bite.

"I'm really not," you try, but he cuts you off.

"No, I mean it, your art's nice. Okay, sure, it may not be the best, but for just random sketches to pass the time, they're pretty good. I bet if you were really trying, you could match some comic book artists."

You blush. "You really think so?"

"I do," he affirms with a nod. "You ever think about sharing your stuff online? I'm sure it'd be popular."

At that, the smile disappears as you stare down at the seeping red jelly of your sandwich. Anon put extra strawberry jam on yours because he knows how much you like it. "I've... put some of it up," you begin. "I don't think it's a good idea to to do it anymore, though. It'd just be a waste of everyponies time."

It takes a few seconds, maybe even minutes for some of the more detailed critiques, for ponies to type out how bad your work is, after all, so why not save them the effort of telling you something you already know. You've been told too many times to have not learned that lesson.

"Why do you think that? Appreciating art is just as worthwhile as making it. It's never a waste of time. I'm sure there are people out there eager to see more work from you."

You think of telling him how wrong he is, but just shake your head instead. "Maybe. I'll think about it."

"I hope you do." he says returning to his food. "And who knows, maybe if you make a name for yourself, you can start doing art commissions, make a few bits doing what you love."

"Heh, that'd be nice," you comment, trying to imagine it. You haven't made your own bits since GramGram used to pay you an allowance for doing chores around the house.

Once the sandwiches are gone, you and Anon lull into a peaceful quiet, his fingers absently coming up to run through your mane. He mentions something about the bath, but you're to distracted by the petting to comment beyond a hum as you slowly drift off. For a while, all your doubts and self-deprecating thoughts are overtaken by sleep as you rest your head in Anon's lap.

Be Anon, human-turned-pillow. You don't mind really, at least until your ass begins to itch. Now you're suffering a case of pony-paralysis as your urge to scratch your butt clashes with your desire not to disturb the resting mare with her head in your lap.

Low-key wiggling against the cushion doesn't satiate your itchy behind, but it does eventually get Floor to stir a little. Mumbling, the mare buries her nose into your groin and breathes deeply, giving a hum and smiling.

As she continues to nuzzle your crotch, Anon Jr. starts to get ideas.

Now diverting blood flow to genitals.

As commander in chief, I order a full retreat!

Negative sir, now reaching half-chub.

I said full retreat, soldier!

I'm sorry, but I cannot follow that order sir. And frankly, like this pony, you can suck a dick.

Insubordination!

Taking matters into your own hands, figuratively of course, you rouse your roomie before things can become uncomfortably awkward between the two of you. "Hey, Floor, uh, sorry to wake you, but it's been, like, over an hour, you think maybe we should get up? We're still doing the shower thing, right?"

"Hmm?" she begins, eyes blinking open a few times before settling shut. "Just five more minutes."

With Anon Jr. reaching seventy percent capacity, you're forced to lift her head with a thigh and start sliding out from beneath her. "Uh, okay, you stay here then, I need to... use the bathroom though, so..."

Feeling a little bad as the mare's head flops onto the cushion and she groans, you still don't hesitate to speed walk to the bathroom and not-quite slam the door behind you. Heaving a sigh, you lean against the door and glare down.

For a second, you have the urge to punch the disobedient dick, but remind yourself it'll hurt you more than it, and resist. Its opportunity missed, Anon Jr. relinquishes its stolen blood and you realize that you weren't lying about needing to use the restroom.

With another sigh, you move to stand over the trough-toilet and unzip your pants. While you empty your bladder, you can't help but ponder what just happened. Were you really just turned on by Floor Bored?

Thinking about it, you realize it's not that shocking. Your sex life hasn't exactly been thriving in Equestria, and since you've started sharing an apartment with Floor, you haven't been comfortable with relieving yourself. To say you're getting backed up would be an understatement. With a slight shake of the head, you put it on the back burner for now. Getting your rocks off isn't a priority like helping Floor is.

By the time you're done and back in the living room, Floor is up and stretching like a cat on the couch. "Mmm, I was having a really weird dream," she says after a lip-smacking yawn. "I could smell something really good and was looking for whatever it was, but you woke me before I could find it." She levels a weak glare your way. "Whatever it was, I was really looking forward to eating it, too."

Sending a silent reprimand southward when Jr. offers its catering services, you smile apologetically. "Yeah, sorry about that, but I really had to drain the main vein, if you know what I mean."

Floor's hind legs start to rub together. "Um, yeah I do, actually. Uh, give me a minute." Hopping off the couch and trotting past you, she takes her turn in the bathroom while you plan out the rest of the evening.

"Hey Floor, It's still a little early, but do you want to go out for coffee now? I figure I can get some shopping out of the way while we're at it."

"Ah, sure," she calls back.

Good, that means delaying the bath, and giving Anon Jr. some more time to cool down. Popping a stiffy while you lather a pony up isn't a good thing, despite what said stiffy might think.

No, Jr, we will not be using your all-natural hair conditioner, I don't care if you say it'll work wonders.

Ignoring your baser urges, you grab your shoes from the entryway and slip them on. A walk should help get your heads straight.

... Just as long as you keep Floor, and her flank, behind you and out of sight, that is. You don't trust Anon Jr. not to get anymore funny ideas right now.

Author's Notes:

Okay, Listen up!
... I'm open to suggestions on what friendship lessons will hit hardest for Floor when they get into the journal. I'm thinking of using it as one of the motivators for Floor being more honest with Anon about her feelings, but I actually haven't kept up with the show in a long time, so what all is in the journal, I don't exactly know.
Anyway, remember kids, words hurt, even over the internet:

Artist is WhyDoMenHaveNipples.