Mirror Fidelity

Finding Flash Sentry's house was an adventure all to itself. Ten minutes before dinner I'd had a panicked realization that I didn't actually know where he lived, so I'd had to quickly look up his address and then trace out the route on an outdated map pinned to my wall. After my... escapade in the shower, I'd barely had time to review my directions before setting off, and had spent the entire twenty-minute bike ride there in constant terror of taking a wrong turn and winding up hopelessly lost. In the end, though, I made it with one minute to spare, albeit out of breath and a little sweaty.

I left my bike and helmet against the fence and took tentative steps up the driveway. I triple-checked the street and house number, even though there was no need; if the basketball net with Flash Sentry's crest on it didn't give it away, the guitar music blaring from an upstairs window did. At first I thought someone had left a radio on until I heard Flash pause to fix a mistake. It sounded like he'd only gotten better since the last time I heard him play.

Getting up to the door took guts. I stood there for a short while, under the guise of catching my breath, while trying to think of what was supposed to come next. Do I knock? I wondered. Do I just walk in? What's the girlfriend thing to do? I immediately reprimanded myself. I'm not his girlfriend. This is obviously some sort of misunderstanding. And that's what I'm going to tell him. Still, I just stood there.

The truth was, it wasn't just pre-date jitters that had me pausing. Deep down, I was terrified. Nothing about this, or what I was doing, made any sense. After years of my meticulously regulated life, branching out like this was akin to confronting my fear of heights by leaping down an elevator shaft. Facing this situation left me with only two options: either I was completely, provably, card-carryingly insane, or this whole thing was just an elaborate trap set by Sunset Shimmer. I didn't know which outcome terrified me more.

The thing was, I knew that she could do it. After the Unspeakable Incident, I knew that there were absolutely no lengths Sunset Shimmer wouldn't go if it meant hurting me. Nothing was beneath her, and nothing was beyond her. The more I thought about it, the more this seemed like exactly the kind of thing that she would pull. It would have taken spying, stalking, maybe stealing, a heap of good luck and blackmail material on some of the best people this town had ever seen... but she could still do it. She might be behind a sign right now, or waiting for me inside, just bracing herself to rip this fantasy out from under me. Because now that I had my life together, now that I'd finally escaped her, what would break my spirit more than having her prove that I'm so shallow, lonely and pathetic that I would give up everything just for the chance that a boy might kiss me again?

I proved her right and rang the doorbell.

The music upstairs stopped, and twenty-nine seconds later Flash Sentry opened the door. He'd taken off his jacket, leaving him in just a t-shirt, and I couldn't help but stare a little as I realized this was the first time I'd seen him without it. He smiled, looking puzzled. "Did I leave the back door locked?"

Caught in my lie in the first second. Great job, me. "Uh, no," I hazarded, grinning and hating myself. "I just... thought I'd come in this way for once." Maybe he could tell that I was nervous, but he didn't say anything, just backed up and invited me into his home.

The house didn't seem like anything special. Beige walls, standard furniture, the usual smell of an unfamiliar living space. I tried to pretend I wasn't seeing it for the first time. Flash's gaze moved to a clock on the wall, and I followed it; it was seven on the dot. "Punctual as always, princess," he joked. Again with the princess thing. He sounded like he didn't mean anything by it, but I found it just the teeniest bit condescending. I didn't say anything.

By now my uncomfortableness was starting to spread. I stood awkwardly while Flash searched my face. "Do you want something to drink?" he asked, trying to keep up the mood. "I've been saving some grape juice."

That broke the spell; I was back from terrified to simply being weirded out. How could he know that grape juice was my favorite when I'd only recently decided that myself? "I'd love that," I answered, releasing my breath and putting on my first genuine smile of the evening. "It was a long ride here."

He nodded, relieved. "All right. Feel free to head upstairs; I'll get the drinks." Then he wandered off, leaving me stunned.

Did a boy just invite me up to his bedroom?

I practically floated up the stairs. Here the house was showing a little more of Flash's influence; there was a loft where several instruments had been set up, along with a clutter of speakers and other equipment. I looked around, trying to guess which door was Flash's, and opened one to a bathroom, then quickly shut it in embarrassment. I felt like a ghost, moving through rooms that didn't belong to me.

My second guess led me into the right room. I peered inside, flipping on a light, and stopped cold. The place looked much like I'd always believed boys' rooms to be: clothes on the floor, bed unmade, clutter on his bed and dresser. It was painted in his colours and smelled like him, too. A guitar was propped up in one corner, music sheets spilling off the desk beside it. Music and sports paraphenalia fought for space across the whole thing, taking up every corner and working their way up the walls. That was the part that made me stop. Because taking up the middle spot on the wall opposite the door, right above his desk, was a poster of me.

I couldn't even feel shocked. I'd gone fully into living in a dream. I drifted forward, taking the image in. I wasn't the only one in it; there was Applejack, and Rarity, and Pinkie Pie, and that girl with the pink hair that I'd seen earlier, and one other covered in rainbows who I didn't recognize at all, all playing different instruments. I was front and center, holding a microphone and wearing a sparkly dress, with the biggest smile on my face. All I could do was blink. I'm in a rock band?

Other details started to claw for my attention. I looked over to the dresser, feeling numb. Stacked among the assorted clutter were small, framed pictures of me. No... pictures of us. There was me and Flash at a mall somewhere; me and Flash on a stage, rehearsing something with instruments; me and Flash at the beach, cuddling and making faces for the camera. Not any of Sunset Shimmer's photo manipulations, which I'd learned to recognize, but real pictures, taken in poses I knew I'd never made. This wasn't just one afternoon of trickery. Flash and I had lived a life together.

I found one picture, near the middle, of me on my own. I was at some kind of dance, dressed up in what looked like ridiculous fake cat ears and wings, dancing... as only I could. I took it and sat down on the edge of the bed, starting to feel faint, staring as this grotesque Other Me lived something that I would never in my life be brave enough to do. How... how long has this been going on? I asked silently. How many nights has this... thing stolen out of my life?

No wonder my grades were slipping. I'd been stuck in a mid-90s rut for months.

I needed to get out of here. I needed research, stat. If this was an identifiable disorder, I needed a name for it, I needed to know when it had started, and I needed to know how to make it stop. Whoever this Other Me was, she'd stolen this ridiculously, cartoonishly perfect life right from under my nose, when a real guardian would help me to find it on my own. The person in these pictures wasn't the real Twilight. I was. She had no right to take my place.

Except the real Twilight wasn't a rock star. The real Twilight wouldn't have a school-wide party thrown just for her. The real Twilight wouldn't have friends at all. And the real Twilight wouldn't have Flash Sentry for a boyfriend.

Maybe it was the real Twilight who didn't deserve to exist.

"In here? Okay," I heard as Flash entered the room. He passed me a glass of grape juice, keeping one of water for himself. Our fingers touched as I accepted it. He looked down at the picture in my other hand. "That was one crazy night, huh?" he said, settling down on the chair in front of his desk.

"...Yeah." I looked down at it again. The Other Me looked so happy.

"Hey, are you sure you're feeling all right?" He leaned forward. "You're looking a little pale."

I'm surprised that pale was all I looked. I felt like I was going to throw up. Looking up at those big, gorgeous eyes, though, I knew that I couldn't leave him now. I would not let the Other Me take this chance away from me again. "It's nothing," I lied, looking away. "Just the ride over here, I guess. I should take it easy." I took a sip of juice. It wasn't much, but the taste of something familiar did settle my stomach. Quickly, I grasped for a change of topic. "What was that song you were practicing earlier?"

"Oh... that." He blushed, scratching the back of his head. "That's just... something I've been working on. You don't wanna hear that."

"No, I do." I leaned forward, looking eager, playing the girlfriend. I can do this. "What's it about? Is it about me?"

"Um..." To my delight, his blush deepened. "Um... okay, don't tell anyone I told you this, but it's something I'm going to be performing at your party. So you're not allowed to hear it just yet. Just wait a few more days, okay?"

"Oh, all right." I fake-sighed, taking a longer drink to cover a blush of my own. A song from Flash Sentry almost felt like too much. "Can I at least get a preview?" I teased.

"Well..." His hand covered a clump of pages on the desk behind him. When my eyes immediately followed, though, he relented and passed them over with a smile. "I know it's kinda corny," he said, reaching over and picking up his guitar. "Just remember it's a work in progress, okay?"

I put the juice and picture on his nightstand and focused my attention on the pages. "'The Twilight of my Life'?" I quoted, giggling while girlish glee did squealing cartwheels through my brain. "That doesn't sound like a compliment."

"It is, though." He did a few experimental strums. "Let's face it, you are something pretty special."

"Aw, stop it." I hid behind the pages and scanned the first few verses. He was right about it being corny, and maybe a little childish in places, but it was cute and had a sort of genuine sweetness to it. I could teach him a thing or two about syntax, though. "Is it going to be just you onstage?" I asked.

"As if." He laughed. "Cmon Twilight, you know I can't sing. I've got Sunset Shimmer working on the vocals."

My heart dropped. "Oh."

He finished his tuning, then froze and put his face into his hands. "Ah, shoot. That was supposed to be a surprise too. I'm giving everything away today, aren't I?"

"It's... fine." My cold gaze fell to the page. The words didn't seem as sweet any more. I cleared my throat as he made to start playing again. "Did she put you up to this?"

"Huh?" He looked up at me, fingers poised over the strings.

"Her." I refused to say her name aloud. "Was this her idea?"

"No?" He sounded more confused than anything. "Pinkie Pie's been planning this for months. We couldn't stop her if we tried. Sunset Shimmer practically had to beg to get involved. She's been wanting to make things up to you for years." He hesitated. "That's... okay, right?"

"Fine." It wasn't fine. I didn't actually know what to make of this at all, but fine was the one thing it wasn't. Maybe the Other Me had put Sunset Shimmer in her place after all. But even if by some miracle this wasn't another trap to humiliate me, she should have known that it wouldn't be enough. Nothing she could do would ever make up for the Unspeakable Incident.

Flash strummed again, and very nearly managed to start this time before letting out a sigh. "It's not fine, is it?" I said nothing. "You've got that look." He drew a circle in the air around my face. "That look you get when something's bothering you, but you don't want anyone to know that something's bothering you because you don't want to spoil the mood. I can tell." I had to give him that. Under most circumstances I didn't think of myself as having facial expressions, let alone readable ones. It was around then that I realized I'd been crinkling the edges of the pages with my hands.

He looked at the picture of me dancing again. I don't know why. Maybe to remind him of happier times. "You've been thinking about it again, haven't you?" he said. "I know the anniversary's coming up."

My birthday. The anniversary of the Unspeakable Incident. The reason I refused to acknowledge the former any more. "Flash, I..." I bit back my words. How could I explain to him my dilemma? If I told him of my true fears, then one way or another, this chance would be snatched away from me. After giving me this taste, I couldn't let myself be cast out on my own again. I couldn't. Not after she hurt me the first time. "Flash, whatever you think she's trying to do, she isn't," I growled. Fury eked out from within me. "It's a trick. It always is. If you let her sing, she'll just find a way to make a fool out of me again. I know it."

"But... she's changed now. We all saw it. Don't you trust her?"

"Trust her?" I shouted. "She ruined my life!" I stood up and threw the pages at him. "But since when have you cared? You're her boyf-"

I stopped dead, covering my mouth with my hands. His face said it all. This sweet, pretty boy, who I had only ever seen smiling, looked like all my years of sadness had landed on him at once. "So." He couldn't meet my gaze. "You still think about that, huh."

"No." He turned away and I started to panic. "No, Flash, I didn't mean..."

He was just putting away his guitar. Once it was in its stand, he turned to me and stood up as well. "Twilight, the day I realized how manipulative Sunset Shimmer was was the second-best day of my life. The best was the day I met you. And even now that she's reformed, that's not going to change." He was still looking down. I couldn't believe it. "And... I know she can't make up for what she did," he continued. "No one can. Not even me. Every time I pass that statue, I get reminded that I can't replace the people she took from you."

The first part didn't make much sense, but the second made me choke on air. Quick slashes of people flashed before my eyes, my brother's screaming face lasting the longest. "But I'm here," Flash said. "And even if I can't fix things, I just wanted to remind you that... that people care about you. That I care about you. And crown or no crown, you're still a princess to me."

What was it with him and princesses? Was this about Canterlot High's crowning ceremonies or something? Maybe it would have made more sense if I still went there. Flash looked up at me shyly. He started to reach out to me, hesitantly, like he was afraid that I would move away. Like there was any chance of that happening. I leaned forward and let him embrace me, then clung to him as tightly as I could. Years of paper barriers were stripped away as I felt something that I'd assured myself time and time again would never happen. Flash Sentry likes me. He cares about me. He wants me to be okay.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his breath tickling my ear. "I messed up. You don't have to see her again."

I wanted to answer "I'm sorry." Instead I just buried my face in his shoulder. "I hate her so much," I mumbled back, hearing my voice break.

Tears were building up in my eyes. Crying's not on the schedule, I reminded myself out of habit. Then I pressed myself against him and started to bawl.

He didn't ask me what was wrong. Live through years of hell and maybe you'll understand how important that is. I'd tried guidance counselors, a couple of study friends, even my parents, and it had always gone the same way; they'd all refused to offer help until I could explain what the matter was. Even Spike just got confused and uncomfortable when I was in a bad state. No one had ever just let me hold them and cry before. We just stood there, in the middle of his room, as I finally let everything out; the loss, the betrayal, the pain of never seeing my brother again, all flowed out in tears and undignified sobs. He just took it all, straight as a pillar, supporting me as I leaned into him.

I wasn't sure how we made it onto the bed. Maybe I sat down, or maybe he sat me down, or maybe we both moved together, without the need for one to lead. One way or another, we wound up sitting side by side on the mattress' edge, him with his arms around me, me still clinging to his shoulder. What I do know is that I was the one who pulled us the rest of the way down. By inches and degrees we fell, him putting up no resistance, until he was down on his back. We took a moment to adjust ourselves, me half on top of him with my head beneath his chin. He knew just how to cradle me, and I felt safe there, more than I'd ever been in my schedule's embrace. Maybe we'd done this before. Right then, I was fine with not remembering. It was enough to lose myself. All I wanted was to forget.

The next time my head moved, the sun had set. I wasn't too concerned with the time; in the past, if one of the other girls was struggling, I'd come back from study sessions well after midnight. Reacting to my shifting, Flash Sentry stroked my back. I looked up at him, my face streaked and my eyes crusty. "Thank you," I whispered.

He smiled back, his fingers curling ringlets in my hair. "You're beautiful," he answered.

"No I'm not." I made a snorting noise as I sniffed through clogged sinuses. "I'm a mess."

"No, Twilight. If someone else was in your shoes, they would be a mess. I would be a mess. You're the least crazy person I've ever met." I guess he didn't understand why that made me laugh. "You've been through so much, and it's always been... I don't know, inspirational to see you keep going. You're my guiding star, and..." He paused for a little too long for ordinary sweet-talk. "And I love you, Twilight."

It wasn't a shock; I'd assumed as much when he let me cry on him for an hour. Hearing him say it, though, set loose all kinds of things inside me. My jaw flapped loosely through a response, but the coiling of my body against his told him all he needed to know. "Flash," I breathed, drawing my face closer to his. I saw his eyes half-close, and I think he was about to lean forward and kiss me if I hadn't done the same thing first.

There are only so many ways to describe a good kiss. Fortunately, ours was most of them. We quickly found a pattern as our lips moved together, passing feelings and, it seemed, even thoughts through this moist contact. Minutes went by of nothing but sweetness. Twice I pulled momentarily away, rubbing my eyes and wiping my nose snottily on my sleeve, then we would share a laugh and I would dive back in. Daringly, my tongue slipped out, only to find - oh? - that his was doing the same, meeting and caressing me halfway. It was electric. It was magical. It was hot. I couldn't feel bad about it. It's not like either of us was cheating. He was my boyfriend.

We stayed that way for maybe half an hour, sometimes simply running our lips together, sometimes full-on making out. Mostly the latter. I generally kept my eyes closed, losing myself in bliss. During this time, I started to move other parts of my body as well. While my left arm was pinned under Flash's back, my right hand traced its way up to his face, brushing his cheek as we kissed, and then slowly, in fits and starts, started to slide downwards. Hesitating every half-inch, afraid that he would stop me or move my hand away, I pressed my palm against his chest, feeling him through his shirt. At the same time my leg slid across him, until I was practically straddling him from the side.

Our embrace complete, I shivered as I realized Flash was moving his hand as well, stroking his fingers in rhythmic patterns down my spine. Spurred on, I pressed harder and started to explore his surface more thoroughly. His muscles weren't exactly rock-hard - I'd convinced myself that the sculpted abs I'd seen in magazines and movies didn't exist outside of them - but he was tough and lean and filled me with tingles as I pressed myself against his solid frame. Before I knew it, I had reached the bottom of his shirt. My pulse quickening, more than ever fearing a reprimand, I slipped my fingers beneath the flap of his clothes and delicately touched his bare stomach.

Suddenly, another shock; without warning, Flash moved his own arm down and put his hand on my butt. My eyes opened and I gasped, pulling away from his face. Immediately, he let go of me. We blinked at each other, and I realized that what I saw in his face was the exact same fear that had been possessing me. "I-I'm sorry," he stammered. "I thought you were..."

Without answering, I grabbed his arm and slapped it back down over my skirt, then shoved my whole arm under his shirt and mashed my lips against his. He obediently began to squeeze my softer flesh and I did the same to his chest, feeling his quickening pulse match my own. Fear bled out of me, leaving nothing but heat. Suddenly, these thin fabric barriers between us were too much distance. I needed to be closer to him, closer, touching, warm, together. Carrying on in my motion, I lifted myself away again and pulled further at his shirt, fumblingly drawing it up. Seeing my intent, Flash sat up and pulled the garment over his head, dropping it carelessly to the floor beside us. When we resumed our horizontal positions, me roaming hungrily over his exposed skin, his hand returned to its place on my body as well... this time under my skirt.

We were both starting to breathe heavily, periodically interrupting our making out. As his fingers drew lines across the gentle curves of my butt and teased the edges of my panties, the heat between us became too much to bear. No longer thinking about what I was doing, I reached down, even further than before, touching the upper rim of Flash's jeans. My trembling fingers scrabbled at the top buckle for a second before giving up and diving below his waistband. I squeezed past the elastic barrier of what I assumed were boxer shorts, and then grasped at something that actually was rock-hard.

Flash released a delicious moan into my mouth. I grinned and stretched further, encircling a meaty shaft that only grew larger as I caressed its length. Struggling to move in the increasingly confined space, I twisted my hand up and down, feeling a pulse of pleasure at the reaction this produced. A second later, I felt another, entirely different jolt as Flash pushed his own roaming hand down as well, passing between my thighs to rub me from below. My eyes opened, and I saw that his had already, staring deeply into mine. I involuntarily spread my legs, giving him more room to stroke at my moist panties, while I increased my pace inside his jeans.

For a few long, heated seconds we just lay there, barely kissing any more, just panting into each other's mouths as we fondled one another's most intimate parts. His erection stiffened endlessly as I worked further and further along it, and I could feel his fingers start to dampen as they slid across my covered vulva, each pass putting his fingers teasingly, tormentingly close to my clitoris. I gaped at him, unbearable pleasure building, and I knew, deep down, that he was feeling the same.

I was the one who broke first. All at once, I withdrew my hand and practically scrambled down his front, my legs sliding off of the bed. Kneeling on a cushion of discarded clothes, I lay myself across his waist as he swiveled towards me, rubbing my cheek lustily against his crotch and taking deep breaths of his musk. He kicked off his shoes, and I started on his zipper, finally unwrapping the beautiful package in front of me. In a single motion, I pulled his pants and underwear down, exposing his gleaming manhood completely.

If I'd had any fears about his size before, they were quashed then and there. It stood long and straight, slightly weighty in my reaching grasp, the tip uncut and slightly wet. A short tuft of blue flared out around the base. I had no idea where he fit on any scale; he was neither noticeably small nor intimidatingly large, and I had no other experience to compare it to. All that mattered was that it fit into my hand beautifully. Parts of my analytical side awoke again as I stroked Flash's penis, wondering at its shape, at the sensitivity of his hanging testicles, about the thrill and wetness its sight and touch provoked in me, about how I could make him feel good too. I stroked my hand up and down, eagerly examining its thickness. Flash's head was bent back; I couldn't see his reaction as I jacked him off. Without realizing, I reached down my free hand and started to rub myself through my panties. My thoughts ran wild. After all these years, he was here, in my hand, just inches away from my watering mouth...

By that point, I was so transfixed by Flash's penis that I barely noticed when the rest of him moved. He stood up, placing himself tauntingly overhead, and stepped to the side. I returned a favor and fulfilled an old fantasy by grabbing his sculpted butt, which gave him the opportunity he needed to put his hands under my arms and lift me gently up. "Let's not end this too quickly, okay?" he whispered, kissing me again on my forehead.

Under his touch, I sat down on the edge of the bed. He finished undressing himself and then went down on one knee in front of me, completely naked, and started untying my shoes. He was slow and gentle, and I blushed when I saw him taking peeks up my skirt while he stripped off my feet. What's he doing? I wondered, staring plaintively at the literal object of my dreams just out of reach. He's the attractive one, not me. I should be the one admiring his body, not the other way around.

With my shoes and long socks taken care of, Flash rose up again, leaning over me on the bed. He started unbuttoning my shirt, taking his time to counter his lust-induced clumsiness. I bit my lip; the pace was maddening. I could probably have sped things up by helping him, but nervousness kept me still. Truth be told, even after how far we'd come, I didn't really want him looking at me. I was nothing special.

My shirt came off, tumbling down the side of the bed. Next came my bra, which Flash managed to unhook on his second try. I habitually folded my arms across my chest, blushing deeply, but relented to his touch when he kissed me on the lips, this time powerfully and slowly. I leaned back, letting him lay me out, and blushed again as he started to kiss his way downwards, across my neck and the top part of my chest. I moved my arms only because I feared they might get in his way. Immediately his lips were on my breast, and I caught him smiling as his face sunk a little deeper into the softness there.

Why are you doing this? I asked silently, unwilling to interrupt as he teased me with his mouth. I've been an A-cup my whole life. There's clearly nothing there to find attractive. Why do you keep... "Oh," I moaned as his lips closed around an erect nipple. The pressure tugged at something deep within me, like an exposed root that linked directly to my core. He sucked gently, rolling the stiff little bud around with his tongue, then drifted over to my other breast and did the same thing again. Another protest was cut off within me. He started to move down again; "Don't stop," I murmured unexpectedly, grabbing his head. I ran my fingers through his hair, pulling him against me, letting these strange pleasures take control as he suckled again.

Before too long, he left my too-small breasts behind and moved down my stomach, still kissing all the way. He paused at my skirt; I put up no resistance as he pulled it off. My underwear was by now damp all the way through. I trembled at the next touch; for the first time, hands that weren't mine slid my panties away from me, touching and caressing my legs all the way. His head descended those last crucial inches, planting a last kiss on my mons veneris. Then he paused. A puzzled look came over his face and he pulled back, for the first time looking fully at what he was doing. Before I could figure this out, he spoke. "You shaved?"

"Y-yeah." I looked down, shamed. It had been a rush job; I could still see tiny patches of violet stubble that I'd missed. Flash looked confused. I prayed that this wasn't somehow a dealbreaker for him. "I... I thought you'd like it."

"Um..." He scratched the back of his head. "It's just... I thought that you were... you know..." He looked up at me again, seeing me wide-eyed and about to panic, and shrugged. "Doesn't matter," he said with a smile. Then he leaned back down, put his face between my legs, and licked.

It was... if I'm completely honest here, it was just okay. Flash put out an earnest effort, but it was pretty clear to me that he didn't know what he was doing. He focused on all the wrong places, he tried to go in way deeper than he needed to, and considering he was a musician, his rhythm was way off. But there and then, none of that mattered. Somehow, impossibly, Flash Sentry was giving me oral sex, and nothing that he did could have ruined that moment. When he hit a sweet spot, a firework went off inside me. I let out cries and moans when his tongue grazed my clit, grasping at the bedsheets. I spread my legs wider and wider, feeling myself get slick with inner juices that his reaching mouth eagerly disturbed.

"Flash?" I said quietly when I felt his pace start to slow. "I want you."

His head rose up, looking vaguely surprised. "You sure?"

"Very." I was. I didn't care about the truth, or what the next few days would bring. All I knew was that in that moment, more than I'd wanted anything else in the whole world, I wanted Flash Sentry.

"Hang on a sec." He stood up on slightly shaky legs, crossing over to his dresser. He opened up a top drawer and reached all the way to the back, pulling out something shiny. As he made to open it, I recognized the shape and bulge of a condom wrapper.

"It's okay," I called before he could get the foil open. "I'm..." I looked away. "I'm taking something."

He stopped. This time I could hear the surprise in his voice. "Really?"

"Yeah." I kept my gaze away. This was something of a sore spot for me. I'd started last December, after having a string of irregular and unusually bad period pains. After the fourth month I'd finally talked to my mom, and it still pains me that that, of all things, was the longest conversation we'd had since the Unspeakable Incident. The doctor assured me that there was nothing wrong with me, and I was put on birth control to help regulate things in the future. I only agreed on the condition that my mom would be the one to pick them up, and that no one, not even my dad, could ever find out about it. I still feared that somehow, if anyone ever caught me, the news would somehow get back to Sunset Shimmer. I couldn't even imagine what she would do if she found out.

"...Okay then." Flash shrugged, tossing the condom back in the drawer. "I'm impressed you got that figured out." I couldn't fathom the meaning of that. I told myself it didn't matter.

I repositioned myself on the bed, lying comfortably down the middle. Flash came back and lay down with me, kissing me once more. His mouth tasted different, which I tried not to notice. His naked chest brushed against mine. It felt right, somehow. I reached down and stroked the object of my desires, thickening it to its full length. It was finally starting to dawn on me that this, all this, would soon be inside me. I'd broken my hymen by accident a few years ago while horseback riding, so I wasn't concerned about that, but between any number of misheard and misremembered rumours, I had absolutely no idea of what my first time was "supposed" to feel like. For once, I was going into something with no research backing me at all... and it was wonderful. "I'm ready," I whispered, pulling him close. Gently, Flash rolled himself on top of me, and I spread my legs to welcome him. He used one hand to position himself, giving me a few pleasurable rubs in the process, and then pushed himself forward.

Fire in water. There was no pain, or if there was, I didn't register it. Just a stretching and a gentle sliding, my brain doing flip-flops as it worked out that there was now something inside of me, and... pleasure. Not heat, not sparks, not individual little blossoms, just raw, aching, give-it-to-me goodness. I moaned loudly and threw my head back, grasping on to Flash tightly. He looked down, in pleasure himself, but also with concern. "You okay?"

I barely heard the question. "More," I mumbled at him.

Flash gladly obliged. He withdrew a little and then thrust again, pushing himself a little deeper into me. Then he did it a third time, and a fourth, each sparking another gasp from me. I could feel my inner walls flexing around him, mostly automatically. He was filling me up, both in body and mind.

And then he started really moving.

My short little gasps turned into one long, drawn-out moan. Flash collapsed fully on top of me, his weight driving himself into me, hips pumping furiously. There were no other thoughts, just pressure, just wanting more. I grasped at his back, feeling his lean muscles ripple as he moved, pulling him nearer and nearer to me. He was making noises too, smaller moans, lost beneath my own consistent cries. "Yes," I gasped, the most complex sentence I was capable of forming at that time. "Yes. Yes. Yes!"

Grinding turned to pounding. I writhed beneath him, lifting up my hips to meet every thrust. He held my shoulders while I dug my fingers into his lower back, tugging, wanting him deeper and deeper. My legs wrapped around him and I almost lifted myself off the bed, trying to get as close to him as possible. Sweat started to roll across both of us. "Twi," he panted in between breaths, "I'm-"

It was all he was able to get out, and it was all the information I needed. I could feel it too. Some distant pressure, some meter reaching its limit, a thickening and pulsing against my insides. I loved it. The bed shook with our sex, and I shook, too, motion bubbling up deep within me until I was throwing myself against him almost as hard as he was thrusting into me. His penis pulsed. He yelled. I screamed.

And as Flash Sentry came inside me, for the first time in my life, I felt beautiful.

The aftermath was hazy, as these things tend to be. For a while we just stayed there, him growing softer inside me, caressing and kissing each other. Then we shifted through a few different positions, suddenly aware of a wet patch that had appeared beneath me, until we found one that suited us. In the end, we ended up in a place that was the mirror image of the one we'd started in, minus clothes; Flash on his back, me snuggling against his side, resting my head on his shoulder. My eyes were closed. My body was at peace. This was perfect. "You're perfect," Flash whispered, echoing my thoughts.

This time, my inner voice didn't even try to argue. "You're perfect," I countered, teasing, and traced a smiling face on his chest.

"Hah." I felt him smile. "Oh hey, I just remembered. I never got around to giving you your present."

He sat up by just a few degrees, and I watched him curiously. Leaning over, he reached down through the gap beside his bed and, from a hidden crevice, produced a bag. "I was planning to give this to you on your birthday," he said, passing it over. "But it seemed a shame to wait."

I got up on one elbow and accepted the bag, turning it over curiously. Whatever was in it wasn't very big. Giggling to myself, remembering the almost-forgotten joy of opening a birthday gift, I pulled the top open and spilled the contents into my palm.

It was a bracelet.

Specifically, two bracelets, but one Flash took from me before I could get a good look at it. The one that remained was done in all my colours, stamped with my name in shining gold lettering. On either side of it was a picture of some kind of winged unicorn, drawn in my colours as well, with my crest apparently tattooed onto her flank.

I looked back at Flash. His bracelet matched mine, done up in his colours instead. His name was written in silver, and the horse on his lacked a horn. "Do you like it?" he asked. "I thought it might... make you feel a little more like yourself."

I may have teared up. In place of an answer, I clutched the gift and dove at him, wrapping my arms around him as hard as I could. After a moment he embraced me as well, holding me tightly against his chest.

But I wasn't happy. I was remorseful. Poisonous guilt shot through my core, blotting out everything that had come before it. Because that was when I finally understood what had been going on. Flash Sentry wasn't my boyfriend; I didn't even know him. And this wasn't some trick by Sunset Shimmer, either. No, there was some other girl out there, another Twilight Sparkle, identical to me in every aspect but one, and I knew then that I'd waltzed destructively into her life and stolen her boyfriend in the most awful, evil way possible.

Because if there's one thing I can't stand, if there's one thing I hate, if there's one thing that no part of me, conscious or unconscious, living or dead, could possibly even stand to be around... it's unicorns.

"Oh, Flash," I murmured, wondering how to break the news to him. None of this was his fault. He was going to be devastated.

"Oh, hey," he answered, and I felt something stiffening against my leg. When I raised myself up, he was grinning at me. "Ready for round two?"

Did my heart break? Did I have one to begin with? It stopped mattering. Under his gaze, I smiled back. "You bet I am."