Work Text:
“The hell’s this?” A pestering, bold voice snickered as she pointed to a store box of brownies.
The Sweetest Treat invited every horse to a potluck she’s been anticipating to host for a long time. Nobody could deny her invitation, as she was far too kind and pure-hearted when handing the envelopes out.
She had to literally hunt through forests and rivers to get to Hopeless just to invite them. Well… not literally. Sweetest told them that it was pretty hard to find Hopeless to the point she almost thought they’d lost themself behind the stadium stands for the billionth time.
There wasn’t much that Hopeless could do. They couldn’t cook or ask Foggy to help as she was busy with her own dish for the potluck. So, they bought brownies from the store and microwaved them since brownies always tasted better when warm. Hopeless even tried a nibble, and it tasted alright.
Some jackass orange-haired horse didn’t think the same, however. “You couldn’t even bake them yourself? Isn’t that the point of a potluck? To bring something you made?” Jovial Merryment snickered at Hopeless’s pathetic attempt of making the brownies seem fresh.
Sweetest stood in front of Jovial to break up a potential fight. “H-Hey, look… What matters is that they brought something! I think these are delicious, anyway!” She smiled and brought a brownie to her face, huffing as she realized the brownies still haven’t cooled down.
“They’re store-bought, Sweet!” Jovial shoved her to the side and glared at Hopeless directly in their eyes. “He’s disrespecting the whole event and its purpose. Food brought in should be homemade. Even Foggy, as slow as she is, managed to bake her signature apple pie!”
“Oh, please, Jovial. I’m not that slow.” Foggy chuckled as she grabbed a slice of her pie and brought it to her spot on the table. “I’m quicker at thinking than you’d imagine. I could perhaps predict the future.”
Jovial then smirked and tried sizing up Foggy with a snarky glare. “Then predict this.” Her left hand went to slap Foggy, but stopped halfway, and she didn’t react one bit. Not even a millisecond after, Jovial’s other hand came speeding towards Foggy’s face, but her hand was stopped by a grab of the wrist, just an inch away from her face.
“The problem with you is that you’re very predictable. Your same move is to try getting a reaction with your left hand, and then to surprise someone with the other. You do this every time.” Her smile was a warm, genuine one. She was having fun.
“Damn, she’s good…” Jovial huffed with a grin, although hard to tell it was a genuine compliment. “But I’m not done with you, Hopeless. How dare you disrespect Sweet’s potluck and everything she’s done to set this up? She bothered to invite you, and you brought this bullshit? Was this last-minute planning? It clearly shows!”
Hopeless only looked a little bit up at the girl in front of them. They didn’t want to bother standing up for themself. Either they could go too far, get kicked out, or get alienated forever after. Jovial kept on speaking, however. She didn’t seem to ever run out of things to say towards Hopeless specifically. “Let me say it again. The point of a potluck is to cook or bake something with your hands and bring it for others to dine on. To bring something that was store-bought is fruitless. It’s a fruitless attempt to include yourself with others who spent time.”
“But then that means I shouldn’t be here, either.” John abruptly stood from his seat and slammed his hands around his plate. “I jus’ ordered shit n’ called it a day, an’ I don’t see you beratin’ me over it.”
She sneered at the ridiculous effort to back Hopeless up from across the table. “You see, the difference between you n’ this guy’s try at fitting in is that someone still made the food you bought. It’s fresh and pure, too.”
“The hell’s the difference between buyin’ something from a restaurant and buyin’ something from a store? They’re both bought, and someone made both of them!”
“One’s fresh and the other ain’t? Get that in your hollow western head.” Jovial reached over and knocked twice on John’s forehead like it was empty. “And besides, what you brought is… somewhat important to your ‘culture.’ Brownies are just some basic thing anybody could bring. So your food has importance, Hopeless’s doesn’t. Simple as that. Not sure why you’re still trying to defend this guy.”
Hopeless hadn’t looked up from the ground for a long while now, but when they finally did, they saw pure anger in John’s face. It’s been a long time since John ever got mad like this—perhaps even years. He was a sweetheart by… heart. “They tried to do somethin’ that everyone was doing to get included. Ain’t nobody gave you permission to rain on their parade because you can’t get enough of making someone feel like shit.”
“He’s right, Jovi.” Sweetest finally spoke up after safely eating a brownie without burning her whole mouth. “I started this event so we could all get along... You’re kinda ruining it. I can do a lot as the host, Jovi.”
She merely scoffed and dramatically brushed her hair aside with a hand. “Ain’t nothin’ special about Mr. Depression here,” Jovial muttered as she turned to walk away.
But a sharp, stinging pain erupted from the side of her face with a loud squeak of a chair. Jovial stumbled backward and quickly caught her balance as she caught a glimpse of Hopeless looking enraged with the hand that slapped her slightly elevated. The whole room shut themselves up at the scene that unfolded, urging Jovial to laugh.
And so she did. “Ha… Ha!” The nastiest smile grew on her face as she continued to cackle at what Hopeless had just done. They, too, realized what kind of action they did, and looked back at Jovial with eyes that almost highlighted their eyebags and fear. “I knew it! You’re crazy! I-I don’t know how I did it, but I sure proved it! You’re a monster! I have all my rights to hate you!”
Hopeless’s whole world muted itself and turned pitch black. There was a deafening, shrill ring in their ears as their lungs seemed to shrink. The only thing visible was the door that almost glowed a threatening yet comforting vivid red that continuously screamed the words ‘get out’ to them.
Before they knew it, they were dashing out through the door despite the immense agony that shot through both of their legs like a bullet coated with lightning. Their legs desperately begged to simultaneously keep on running and fall apart and collapse with every step. They couldn’t keep track of their breathing, just feeling the sensation of their chest heaving like it pleaded for air in an ocean. They swore they heard a voice yelling the same singular word just behind them.
Breathing became impossible.
Running was starting to become unbearable.
Keeping their vision clear of tears distorting the path they couldn’t see wasn’t achievable anymore.
Soon, they fell to the ground with a harsh thud as a cry of pain ripped their throat apart, tears finally escaping their eyes.
They forgot everything about the potluck just behind them.
Instead, their brain was filled with the desire to get rid of the harrowing agony in their legs. Every memory of watching their legs get beaten into almost mush, every memory of watching the bones in their legs get crushed, every moment of the pain that seared through their entire body kept replaying itself as they writhed on the ground, unable to stop the hurt themself.
A gentle hand softly placed itself on their back, the owner of the hand calling out their name. “Hope! Jeez—! Take it easy…! Y-You can take as long as you need to…” The hand began lightly rubbing circles as its best effort to calm Hopeless down. It sounded like it had an accent, almost like…
John’s voice.
Hopeless was gasping for air as they finally saw their surroundings again. They were just a few large steps away from their house’s front yard. “Wh-Why…” Their breathing was uneven, having to cough in between breaths and words. “...do you still— s-still care about me…?!”
The same gentle hand used another to grab Hopeless’s bruised hand and sighed. “Be—... Because I love you. It’s, uh, as simple as that…!”
“How can…—!” Hopeless heaved the words out of their chest, unable to believe. “How can that be possible…?! It’s— It’s hard to… It’s hard to love the broken ones—!”
“Not for me!” John desperately cut them off with a voice that nearly sounded like he was about to sob, too. “I love you for you and your imperfections! If you’re apparently so broken, then the cracks make you look even more beautiful! B-Because... a plain gray vase ain’t no good…” The hand that held Hopeless’s squeezed itself a little tighter. “A plain gray vase ain’t no good for a house full of patterns. It can stand out. But either way... At the end of the day... it’ll be pretty. Flawed or not.
“That means I’d love you even if you were hurt or not.”
Hopeless still hadn’t gotten up from writhing in their tears, but they heard every word. They kept their face near the ground, the pain in their legs starting to fade away as they remained almost motionless.
But John was sick of them not facing him. The hands that comforted Hopeless let go from their places and grabbed them by their upper arms. “If you’re gonna cry, a-at least… cry on me.” He pulled them into the tightest, most loving hug he’s ever given someone, and even relaxed a bit as soon as he felt Hopeless reciprocate with their arms.