Lovelines

Nine Years Ago, May

Each time she closed her eyes, she imagined it differently; it's why she stopped closing her eyes. The yearning buried deep in the pit of her stomach went from burrowing with a small overnight bag to having set up camp, built a community, and held elections.

Two years would do that.

For two years, she did everything asked of her. For two years, she watched as her heart slowly left her own body and took up residence in the unicorn's. For two years, she rode the coaster that rocked her life so magnificently. She couldn't stop it. She couldn't help it. She couldn't fight it. It was a beautiful, unexpected crash of pure, meant-to-be passion.

And still, each time she closed her eyes she imagined it differently. Everyone told her, "Your first love is the worst." Add the fact that her first love stole her heart at age of thirteen, held it for the next two years and then turned her back on a whim and Stormee figured her "worst" was worse than most. It was the absolute worst, the ultimate worst. The worst that everyone prays they don't experience.

And here she was, experiencing it. Life experience, they say. Live it up. Embrace it. It makes you who you are.

Ridiculous.

Her life experience stole who she was. It ruined who she was. She didn't believe any of their one-off, feel-better one liners. She hated life experience if it meant she felt like this. She felt robbed; robbed of her heart, robbed of her adolescence, robbed of a healthy future love life, robbed of her sanity, robbed of emotion and happiness, of laughter, of peaceful days, of light kisses, and brilliant orange eyes.

She found herself broke, completely, in every sense and definition of the word. Ripped apart from the inside out, devoid of worth, and empty, she was a shell of her former self.

Moments of their past haunted her. She loathed the back of her eyelids. She loathed her dreams. She loathed photographs, notes, cards, yearbooks, and the box marked O in her closet. These things held history. They flaunted it right in front of her face and pretended like it didn't matter.

It probably didn't, anymore.

They met through school.

Well, that was a lie, actually. They’d known each other far before school.

The Apple family and the Dash family had always been close, and so they practically grew up together.

Or rather… around each other. Yes, they were not that close in age—three years glaring between them—so they could never really form that bond. The bond that Jasper had with the twins. The bond that Paz had with Lightning. The bond that only comes when you truly grow up with a pony.

That’s okay. It was totally fine that they didn’t have that bond. That bond would have gotten in the way—made things super awkward. Kind of like the love triangle/not-really-a-relationship-except-for-when-it-is/whateverthefucktheywerecallingitnow between the twins and Jasper. Poor Jasper, wedged between the two clear loves of his life, pussying out because he couldn’t choose one.

Those three would end up hurting each other something terrible. Everypony knew it. The entire fucking town knew it and held their breath.

But that was totally beside the point.

The point was, they never really associated with each other much, before school. School was what brought them together.

They weren’t really in the same general group of friends, but they ate lunch together because Jasper and the twins, and felt like two third wheels around those three’s never-ending…whateverthefuckitwas.

So they started talking. Hesitant, absentminded small talk to drown out the other three occupants of the table.

How was your second period?

Good. We had a test.

How did you do?

Think I did pretty good.

And then it grew and they became something like friends instead of associates.

And then the day came.

In retrospect, it shouldn’t have happened. None of it should have happened. It was wrong, and completely terrible. But it brought her something she could never fathom at that point. Something she still had trouble fathoming.

Was it all real? Did love as intense and all-consuming as this exist outside of books?

It was a mistake. She hated making them. But she was stupid and reckless and lived first, because thinking was for when you were old and had foals and whatever.

So she strutted up to the table on that day nine and a half years ago, fearless and confident—maybe even overly confident.

She approached the other mare like a fucking ninja, tapped her on the shoulder and then spun around the other way so that when the unicorn looked for the offender, she would not be there.

She sat across from Opal in her usual seat. The Drama Three had not arrived yet—probably having a threesome quickie in the bathroom, or something like that.

Opal was reading. Not, like, text-book-reading-because-she-forgot-to-do-her-homework reading, but reading-a-book-for-fun reading.

Idly, she watched Opal read for a while. The cafeteria was half-full, abnormally calm, most ponies were outside enjoying the weather.

“Are you busy tonight?”

She didn’t know why she said the words. In truth, she never really planned anything. She winged it, as it were. And it just seemed like the right thing to say.

Honestly, she wasn’t having the best day. An argument with Skylar was a supremely common thing in the Dash household. She and Skylar just didn’t get along. Their banter was the stuff that helped Stormee sleep at night. It told her everything was okay in the world.

But they did not have very many legitimate fights. But today they had.

What was it even over?

She couldn’t remember for the life of her, and gave up when she grew bored of thinking in general and then she shut her brain off. Thinking wasn’t good for her.

“Why do you ask?” Opal hummed into her book.

“You wanna come over?”

That got her attention. Opal looked up at her, cocked a brow in that way that Stormee was just beginning to find maybe attractive.

“I have homework.”

“Bring it.”

“I have chores after school.”

“Skip them. Topaz can handle the extra work.”

“I don’t know, Storm.”

She looked hesitant, sounded hesitant.

And suddenly, it was all Stormee could think of. It was all she desired for some crazy reason. She just had to get the other mare to come with her.

It was probably because she was competitive, and Opal was refusing.

“Please? I’ll make it worth your while.”

“O-okay.”

She turned away after that, sidetracked by the Fabulous Three coming to the table.

And that was that.

Seven Years Ago, November

She brought herself back to her present nothing and looked over to the empty lunch table in the corner, her forelegs wrapping tightly around her stomach in reflex as her eyes fell shut to will away the tears. She begged them to spare her this period. Spare her one hour, please. She needed that hour. The edge of the cliff felt closer each day. She so desperately needed that hour.

With deep breaths and calming hoofs stroking over each elbow, she gathered herself and then forced her eyes back open. They immediately fell on none other than her most-beloved and most-dreaded vision: Opal.

She stood across the cafeteria, sullen eyes on Stormee. Those foreign eyes bore into her as she froze. She felt the tears. She felt the edge. She felt the void inside echoing the deep rasps of her taut breathing.

And yet she couldn't turn away. It would kill her not to, but she couldn't. She looked deeply, digging for anything that told her she still knew Opal. The eyes didn't look the same. The stance didn't seem the same. The near invisible, helpless and hopeless smile that graced the edge of her lips right then even seemed foreign.

Her Opal was gone. Gone where, Stormee always wondered. How far away? Could she visit? Would she visit?

And then the new Opal was gone, shuffling into the table beside their table. Stormee thought she saw those stranger eyes flicker to it for half a second, but it'd been weeks since she trusted anything she thought she saw. Everything swirled around her and she lost herself more and more on a daily basis. She'd proven herself wrong far too many publicly humiliating times in the past six months.

So she stopped trying.

She was almost sixteen for crying out loud.

Because what the hell was it coming to? What the hell happened to them? Where was her Opal? How did it get to this? When would she stop crying, aching, and dying inside? What would it take? God, what would it take?

The full cafeteria gave her no reply.