Mirror Fidelity

It's hard to remember how the rest of the day went. I could have floated home on clouds for all I know. What I do know is that no more work got done that afternoon. I did try, because it was on the schedule and if there's one thing I'm good at, it's sticking to schedules, but my thoughts were too scattered to bring anything together. Spike, sensing my mood, left me alone to ponder in my frustration. Veins of infatuation and confusion clashed inside me, until I was forced to devote all my mental faculties to solving the question that had been looming over me all day.

What the heck was going on?

Methodically, in the way that only I can, I put the facts into place. Somehow, Applejack knew who I was. Based on their reactions, the others seemed to, too. They knew me well enough to know that my grades were important to me, that I'd been bedridden lately, that my birthday was coming up soon. Still possible for a sufficiently devoted stalker, although I couldn't imagine any of them fitting the bill. Applejack had also seemed perfectly comfortable around Spike, but again, not out of the question. Something told me she was a dog person. And Flash... well, it wasn't exactly a secret that I used to have a crush on him. If you'd picked any girl my age who'd gone to Canterlot High, he would have been a fairly safe bet.

But the kiss.

If this was fake, he would have pushed me down. Or he would have stayed rock-still, just counting the seconds down until this crazy girl left him alone. He might have called me weird, or sick, or just dumb to think that I could do that and get away with it. But he didn't. He liked it. Like it was normal. Like we'd done it before. Somehow, unless he was the exact opposite of everything I'd ever believed him to be... Flash Sentry was into me. And yet I knew next to nothing about him, or about any of these people who acted like they were my friends.

All their faces flashed in front of me as I sat cross-legged on my bed, furiously chewing my lip. It was as if, without my knowledge, there was this other me out there, an exact replica, one who had everything that I'd always secretly wanted from life; caring friends, a place at Canterlot High, the boyfriend that other girls would kill to have. And I, completely by accident, had stumbled onto her secret life and tricked them into thinking that I was the one they knew. It was almost as if... but no. It couldn't be. Could it?

Was there...

Was I...

Was I dating Flash Sentry in my sleep!?

I had to laugh at the absurdity of that revelation. That couldn't possibly be the case. It was just like that movie... what was it called? Oh, right, Punch Club. Some silly thing that my parents kept in their secret stash of films that I wasn't supposed to know about. That was about someone who created a subconscious version of himself to live his life as he wanted it to be, while the real version drifted into the background and slowly disappeared. But of course, that was just a movie, and if it happened in a movie then it couldn't possibly be real. Everyone knows that. Right?

Yet the thought stuck with me. It was the only thing that made sense. No, wait! I cried internally, lifting a finger triumphantly into the air. I have proof! My schedules! How could I possibly be living a secret double life when I've been following my schedule down to the letter ever since... My finger dropped. Ever since...

I looked around.

All around my room, my schedule hung over me. Across every wall, pressed so long it was practically part of the paint, the coloured grid surrounded me in an unbroken line, looping up and around my door. I followed it with my half-raised finger, mumbling numbing phrases to myself. From Pre-Breakfast Textbook 1 to Weekly Review 52, every day, every hour of my life had been plotted out in these never-ending loops for the past four years. My defense against taunting, my armour to ensure that I would never open myself up to attack again. I'd been lying to myself; I only had friends because they were penciled in on Tuesdays and Thursdays. For all my study groups and long walks and forced periods of relaxation, I'd never allotted myself any time to live.

How many loops? How many measured weeks had gone by, always the same, one merging right into the next? I tried to think back. I tried to close my eyes and count, all the way back, without looking at the schedule. I couldn't do it. They were all the same, bland and interchangeable, all the knowledge I'd compiled in that time bouncing around in my head unattached to anything. I tried to remember what I'd had for dinner last night. No dice there.

I felt a chill. Was I... losing time? Whole days or weeks simply dropping away from my life, unnoticed among the bland mass that I'd created around myself? I didn't have anyone to tell me. If I disappeared for a few hours one day, I didn't have any friends who would notice. So much of my research was extracurricular that I could probably skip whole days of school without suffering; my recent bout with the flu had proved that. I wrapped my arms around myself. Would I even know what day it was if I didn't have my calendar to tell me?

"Stay calm, Twilight," I told myself, refusing to start rocking back and forth. "Stay calm." My imagination wasn't so cooperative. Suppose one day Sunset Shimmer had hurt me so bad, with something I might not even remember - although one incident sprung to mind - that out of sheer desperation I'd imagined up an alternate version of myself to live all my fantasies for me? Someone who could make friends, who could talk to boys, who could put Sunset Shimmer in her place once and for all? Was it even possible that I had all that potential inside me? "Yeah, and why don't I give her magic powers, too?" I joked, trying to lighten my mood.

And yet... even if I was just being paranoid, if this "other me", who or whatever she was, had all this... then where did that leave me?

Hey. My subconscious poked at the back of my mind again. So are you going to his house or not?

I looked around again, at the endless, empty cycles that I'd left behind me, and the endless, empty cycles that still lay ahead, and I made my choice.

Dinner was uncomfortable. I sat facing the empty spot where my brother used to be, just picking at my food. My parents paid no attention to me; between them, their days had had almost as much excitement as mine, and they were content to laugh about it freely. I ate just enough to keep my stomach quiet - it was already feeling like it was tightening into a knot - and then made my move.

"Um, mom?" I interrupted, in the middle of one of my mother's usual guffaws. It never felt natural when I spoke up in the middle of a conversation; it was like there was some natural turn order to speaking that I wasn't privy to, so I always ended up talking over someone else. I hadn't felt that with Flash. It had felt good. "There's been a change in my study group, so... is it okay if I go out tonight?"

They both looked me over thoughtfully, but it was my dad who spoke first. "Tonight? And this late?"

"Yeah," I quickly lied. "I know it's sudden, but Colgate just found out that she has a dental appointment on Tuesday, so she was hoping we could move it to tonight." I was banking on two things: the fact that I was a terrible liar, and the fact that my parents knew that. I'd never had any reason to tell them an untruth before, so they wouldn't have any reason to inspect or interrogate me. Why would a good girl like me lie?

My mom's lip trembled. "But it's game night," she said, sounding hurt.

"Now, now," my dad soothed, waving his fork in the air. "Our little Twilight hasn't gotten herself this far without taking her studying very seriously. If this is important to her, we should respect that. This is important to you, right, Twilight?"

A pit opened up in the bottom of my stomach. "It is," I confirmed, though not for the reasons he believed.

"Well... all right," my mother relented. "Just be back at a reasonable hour this time, all right?"

"I'll try," I promised, and my heart sank further. I wondered if they'd have been so trusting if they knew that their precious little Twilight was sneaking out to go to a boy's house. Then I remembered my thoughts upstairs and felt embarrassed. Was it normal for eighteen-year-olds to worry this much about what their parents think?

I bet the Other Me doesn't worry about this sort of thing, I grumbled to myself. She probably just goes out and hangs out with her friends whenever she feels like it. I snorted inwardly. Besides, it's not like Flash and I are...

My mind hit a wall.

"...Anyways, I should start getting ready," I said quickly, accidentally bumping the chair as I stood up. "I need to... um... get my things. See you!" Then I ran upstairs and locked myself in the bathroom, leaving my half-eaten dinner behind.

The lights were off. I stared at my wide-eyed reflection in the near-darkness, my chest heaving. I could feel my whole body shaking. A kind of nauseating fear dropped through my stomach and met a wild, electric tingle from somewhere further below, pulsing in my middle in quakes that I could only compare to the worst of my pre-exam jitters.

Had Flash Sentry been talking about doing... that?

My brain rebelled. Of course he hadn't meant it. I was sure that his "special surprise" was just, like... a bracelet, or something. That he had to give me at his house. At night. Alone. And the fact that he seemed totally okay with me putting my tongue in his mouth had absolutely nothing to do with it.

And as for me, well... I would be lying if I said that sitting in Flash Sentry's room and making out had been the only thing on my mind. In quiet, secret places, I'd been giving shape to possibilities that my conscious self didn't dare put form to. And I mean yes, ostensibly I'd decided long ago that if I ever did... do it... it would be with someone I'd married, or was sure I was going to marry, or... something. And sure, maybe... once or twice... I'd explored myself in the dark, summoning shapeless reflections in my mind and thinking about how it would feel to be joined with someone else, but that didn't mean that I would ever really, seriously...

Oh my gosh. I wrapped my arms around my middle. I'm not... I'm not actually considering it, am I?

I shook the thoughts off. No. No matter what any Other Me has done to him, as far as I'm concerned he's just a cute boy I used to know. And when I go to his house, that's what I'm going to tell him. I started moving again. And now I'm going to take a shower for no other reason than because it's on my schedule.

Maybe I'm better at lying to myself than I thought.

The lights went on, as did the water. A loose seal made the shower whistle at me as I undressed. Even though I tried not to, I found myself taking glances at myself in the fogging mirror, this time with new eyes. By the end, I had to tear myself away from the looking glass and closed my eyes as I stepped under the steaming water. It would never work out, anyway, I decided. What would Flash Sentry ever see in someone like me?

My bathing was methodical, as with the rest of my life. My hair was first, as always. I didn't really like to keep it as long as I did, but I figured that learning to live with it grown out would result in fewer trips to the hairdresser and greater efficiency overall. The stripes were natural, from my mother's side, and it was only in the past year that I'd gotten comfortable enough to stop dying them the same colour as the rest. Then it was down to my face, scrubbing in carefully regulated motions. I've never been used to my face. It didn't seem much good for anything other than making goofy expressions, and that's just so unlike me.

Being naked was not helping. Now that my brain was on this track, it was hard to stop as I descended, running my soapy washcloth across overly-thin shoulders. I could feel a flock of imaginary eyes circling me, scrutinizing my various flaws, every way that I was unsuitable as a match for Flash. My arms were practically twigs, unused to lifting anything larger than a textbook or three. I had to stop for a second when I reached my chest, pausing to let the criticisms rain down. Yes, there was a satisfying softness under my hand, but now that my bra was off it was even more obvious than usual that I didn't really have anything going on there. Not that I was alone in that; for some reason no one in this town seemed able to get a proper bust going until they were in their thirties.

But Flash Sentry had kissed me anyway.

The heat seemed to increase as I moved downward, even though I always set the dial to a very specific temperature. I found myself skipping over my navel, running unfamiliar patterns down my light purple skin that sent little tingles through me. Unavoidably, my thoughts were wrenched back to Flash. Even putting the kiss aside (no small task) it was starting to dawn on me that that was the closest I'd ever been to a boy, or to anyone really, friendly cuddles with my brother aside. After years of barely any physical contact, the feel of someone else's torso touching mine was practically burning itself into my flesh. Him touching me. Holding me. Kissing me.

Wanting me.

Why?

Both arms were now in motion, one still washing its way around my too-frail hips, the other wrapping around my torso, trying to recreate the feel of that touch. My lips strained against empty air, my brain on fire as it tried to process this one thought. Me wanting him, that was just a given, but out of all the girls he could have chosen, Flash Sentry wanted... me? Why would he... why would anyone...

A jolt shot though my core, and I let out a small gasp. My scrubbing hand had reached the space between my legs. Instead of the unremarkable once-over that I usually gave myself down there, the soapy cloth passed over fully-engorged lips. I froze that way, waves of crackling heat radiating through me. I could almost believe I could feel my pulse pounding through my vulva. I hadn't realized that thinking of being close to Flash had turned me on this much. I should hurry, I thought vaguely to myself, noting the list of things that still needed to be done. It took a while to shave my long legs, which was something that I'd picked up in high school and was secretly terrified to ever stop doing. Flash will be expecting me, and I'm already way behind schedule, and...

I moved my hand again, and the thoughts stopped. Up and down, stroking myself, gradually slipping away from the facade of washing, a tuft of hair tickling at my wrist. In moments, tingling pleasure gave way to an inner, aching need like nothing I'd ever felt before. It wasn't that I had no experience with this - I mean, sometimes, you know, after a bad day, maybe once or twice a month at most - but this thought of being wanted, being needed, magnified everything so much more. And even though objectively I could pin down exactly what was going on, that I was giving myself clitoral stimulation to set off a chemical reaction in my brain, for once in my life that ceased to matter. I wasn't just having it off with empty shadows any more. I had a partner. I had Flash.

Both my sets of fingers tightened. My free arm clutched at my back and shoulder as I recreated that kiss over and over, leaning back into the stream of the water to take gasping breaths. The thin blanket of the washcloth became more of a lump, pressing harder and further into my hidden folds. More rapid pulses of pleasure echoed through me with every swipe. My knees bent and I found myself unconsciously moving my hips, grinding into my own hand, the motions getting faster and building until I could practically see lights behind my eyes, and then-

"Twilight!" My mom hammered on the door. "Do you want to take some snacks with you? There's a spare bag of chips that we were saving for tonight!"

My knees went weak and I buckled downward. All focus lost, I covered my mouth with my hand and silently screamed into it, riding on nothing more than the watery pop of an utterly ruined orgasm. "No thanks!" I trilled once I'd more or less caught my breath, still feeling unfulfilling waves shooting through me. Then I waited until I was certain she'd moved away before lifting myself up.

It was hard to start moving again. My body fought against itself, still aching, still yearning for another kiss from that phantasmal Flash. I knew from experience, though, - look, just some, okay, I'm sure every girl does it at least once, sheesh - that if I tried to start from scratch I would definitely be late. My hands unclenched and I pulled the cloth away, damp with what was definitely more than just water, then scrubbed myself a few more times down there just for good measure. As I did, I felt an itch against my wrist again and looked down. For what felt like the first time, I became fully aware of my pubic hair, the rounded mound of purple fluff slightly flattened down by the water.

It's fine, I told myself. It's not going to matter. Nothing is going to happen tonight, no matter how cute Flash Sentry is. He won't be seeing anything. I'll just shave my legs, and then I'm just going to go to his place, tell him there's been a misunderstanding, and then leave. I hung up my washcloth and reached out to the rack beside me. And that's all.

I picked up my razor, looked down, and gulped.

Okay, fine. Once a week, every wednesday at ten, marked on my schedule as "Textbook Review 2". And I usually think of Flash.