Just a Little Bit's Enough
To love oneself is the beginning of a lifelong romance.
—Oscar Wilde
“What’s this?”
Rainbow’s smile dropped from her face. She placed the two tickets onto the table so that she could speak, and then tried to smile again. It bloomed, a hesitant thing, like she was a shy mare talking to her crush. Rarity stared back at her in a way that said she was trying not to show that she was impatient.
“They’re tickets,” said Rainbow, motioning to them helpfully. Rarity looked at her, and Rainbow could not read the look. This was strange.
“Yes, dear, I know. I meant, what are the tickets for?”
“Oh. Um, that new spa resort that opened last month. I thought we should go.”
Rarity glanced at the tickets then looked back to Rainbow Dash. He mouth was pulled to one side, which meant she was unsure. “You want to go to the spa resort?”
“Yes.”
“You. Want to go to the spa resort.”
“Yes.” Rainbow’s ears folded back, defensive.
“Why?” asked Rarity, glancing back to the tickets.
“Huh?”
“Why do you want to go to the spa resort?”
Rainbow fidgeted, but only for a second. “I like… spas,” she defended lamely. Rarity stared at her, not buying it, of course.
“Rainbow,” she said.
“I want to spend some time with you,” Rainbow confessed in a rush, feeling even more like a shy crusher. She sighed under her breath in annoyance. They had been together for three years now.
She waited for Rarity’s face to bloom into softness, the way it always did when Rainbow made some big romantic gesture like this. Rarity’s face stayed impassive. But she smiled. It was a smile that was reserved and slightly tired—barely genuine. The warmth in it was quiet, self-contained.
And that’s when Rainbow’s entire world came crashing down.
She did not need her any longer.
Rainbow told herself stubbornly that no pony should need another, but the old platitude failed to comfort her.
They’d been drifting apart for months now. The spark between them was gone, and she could not lie to herself—not about that, not any longer. Even now they sat together in the same room with the air between them tired, reserved, and just on the verge of awkward. They did not talk; they did not look at each other.
And any moment now…
“Well, I should get back to my work room,” said Rarity.
There it was.
“Yeah. I should… ah…” Rainbow said in a hollow voice. She did not even think to make up an excuse, and it wasn’t like Rarity was there to listen to it. She had already gone.
Rainbow stared at the tickets.
“Are you asleep?”
“…No.”
Rainbow rolled to face her. Through the darkness, she eyed Rarity’s silhouette. Rarity did not face her, even though she had admitted to not being asleep.
There was space between them in bed. They did not touch.
Rainbow tilted her head, frowning at the back of Rarity’s head. She scooted along the bed and sidled behind her. And then, she could smell her. She loved the smell of her—it was her favorite smell in the world. Rarity smelled like home.
Rainbow buried her face in Rarity’s mane and breathed deeply. She wrapped herself around Rarity’s form, wholly and completely.
Rarity stiffened, but only for a moment. Then she relaxed in Rainbow’s grip. The moment was too long, however.
Rainbow sighed, wondered if she should push it. She sighed again, and the warmness of her sigh bounced back on her face as it heated the already inviting warmth of Rarity’s mane.
Rarity would make excuses if she pushed. And not bad ones, either; good ones. Rarity would say, “You startled me” or something. Rainbow may very well have startled her. They didn’t touch much, nowadays, especially not in bed.
Pulling back, Rainbow kissed Rarity’s shoulder. It was not to start something; or maybe it was since arousal swept through her the moment she did it. But the arousal was mainly due to simply being near the one she loved. It was a pleasant feeling. Rainbow liked feeling it.
She kissed Rarity’s shoulder again, and added a soft nibble, asking, ‘please?’.
Rarity stiffened in genuine this time, and it did not feel any different than when she stiffened the first time, which meant that time was genuine, too.
Rainbow bit her lip, hard. In desperation, she kissed a third time.
“Rainbow,” Rarity said. “I’m tired.”
She was lying. Rainbow knew the voice of a tired Rarity. She knew the voice of every Rarity under the sun and moon, and she knew all the faces, too.
“But it’s been so long,” Rainbow protested, and maybe her voice hitched into a whine, and maybe she sounded needy and… stallion-y, since they always wanted sex, but she could not recall the last time they’d done the deed.
She frowned. ‘Done the deed’ sounded like it was… like it was… not as cool and special as it was. ‘Done the deed’ sounded like the act was a chore, and it totally wasn’t.
Sex was awesome, and sex with Rarity broke the fundamentals of awesome because it was so awesome.
“I know it’s been a while, but I really am weary tonight, my love,” Rarity said patiently. “Perhaps a rain check?”
Rainbow nodded, even though Rarity could not see her. Again she thought of pressing the issue, but what could she say, how could she protest, without sounding like a jerk? A needy, sex-obsessed jerk at that.
She settled back onto the pillow and stared at the back of Rarity’s head long into the night. When Rarity pushed off her hooves in her sleep, Rainbow didn’t protest.
“Rarity?”
Rainbow hovered in the doorway of the workroom. The tickets were pressed to her chest.
“Mm?”
Rarity was sitting at the desk by the window—the one she often used to write letters and draw her dress plans. The desk was clean of any and all papers, be it dress plans or letters. The workroom was similarly bare. Or perhaps that wasn’t the right word for it. There were ponyquins with half-finished dresses on them, but those ponyquins had worn those half-finished dresses for so long, now, that it seemed to be the way they were made.
Rarity stared out the window and did not face Rainbow when she called her name.
Rainbow swallowed. “So, um, the tickets?” she reminded.
“What tickets?”
“The—the tickets to the spa resort. Our reservation is in three days. Do you want to go?” she swallowed the squeak of her voice.
“Oh,” said Rarity mutedly. “Yes, of course, darling.”
She did not turn around, even when Rainbow waited. It seemed that this was the only thing she would get. She sighed under her breath.
“Okay then,” she said, and then left the room.
She fixed lunch halfheartedly, opening a can of soup and heating it on the stove. When she sat down to eat it, Rarity came into the kitchen. She seemed to glide, unaware of her surroundings, and certainly unaware of Rainbow.
She made motions of fixing lunch for herself, too, and Rainbow stared down and focused on her soup. There would be no reason to follow Rarity with her eyes, and actually, she did not feel a need to.
Finally, after a bit, Rarity sat across from her at the dining table. She had a bowl of soup just like Rainbow. Together, they sipped daintily at their meals.
The silence between them was pensive, and carried the opinion that they should say something, perhaps, be it ask about their days, or talk of the trip to the spa resort.
There were things they could talk about. Maybe even things they should talk about.
Neither of them did.
The resort was like something off of an ad; lucid, too good to be true, too perfect to be genuine. They stepped off the train together, and warm air greeted them. As did a perfectly clean train platform, which ran a neat operation. It was like a dream, where everypony looked like models—even the bellhops.
Everything was too bright. White was everywhere; probably to seem fresh and clean, but only managing to be assaulting under the burning blood of the high sun. The sky was too blue, too, no thin clouds or mist to soften the intense color.
Rainbow felt claustrophobic, because the heat was dry and heavy and took up space in the air. She swallowed and glanced at Rarity.
“Shall we go to our hotel?” said Rarity. She was looking around with a gaze that Rainbow could not read. Somewhere on the border of passive interest.
“Yeah.”
They caught a ride to the hotel, and when they were deposited at the front door, bellcolts made quick work of their luggage. Free of bags, they walked into the glamorous, knee-quaking lobby of the hotel. Huge arched ceilings sucked the breath from their lungs, but for different reasons. Their hooves clicked on the marble floor, and then were silenced by a thick carpet that felt like velvet. The counters sparkled under the chandelier, light jazz music danced over their ears and the pristinely ironed cuffs of every employee who passed them reeked of superiority.
It was absolutely stunning in every way. Rainbow felt her wings tingle nervously. It was over the top in every way. And now her suspicions were confirmed; all of it would be over the top, and she would get absolutely no relaxation here.
They glided up to the counter and Rainbow introduced herself. They exchanged words, payment phrases, and then were dismissed with approval, keys, and a kind smile.
“This was a good idea,” Rarity murmured to her as they strolled up to the gold-plated elevators. Rainbow reached out to smack the Up button and they waited.
Rainbow watched Rarity shimmer in the reflection the doors gave off. She watched her smile. Her mane fell every which way, without purpose, but with it in the same right. Why was that? Did it get mussed in the wind, or had she not put it together this morning?
It looked good, whatever the reason.
“You’re beautiful,” she said, and watched Rarity’s reflection pull up to look towards her. Those eyes found hers, and she smiled easily. Had Rainbow called her beautiful before? She could not recall the last time. She was not a well of compliments, not by a long shot.
Maybe that was why their sex life was dry.
Rainbow saw her lips twitch, but before she could think anything else, the elevator doors opened.
They stepped inside. They pivoted, and watched the doors flutter shut and the floor level count up. Music filled the air, and so it failed to be a silence between them. They didn’t speak, but they stood closer together.
They went to dinner at a restaurant that night. They sat at a table out of a romance novel, with a long white tablecloth and two tall candles as well as an assortment of flowers between them.
Rainbow never understood why they put things in the middle of a table like flowers and candles. They blocked the view of the pony that sat across from you.
The mood of the place was supposed to be intimate and romantic. Rainbow could recognize that, because she was Rarity’s marefriend. The lights were dim, trying to suggest warmth and peace, but only succeeding in making it hard to see.
The candlelight danced on her plate and reflected on her water glass.
Rarity ordered wine, as she always did when they went to places like this. It was brought forth with fanfare, in a bucket of ice, then toweled off and poured with a fancy flourish. The stallion of course made all sorts of eyes at Rarity, and Rainbow looked away from the scene because she’d long since learned not to be jealous, and frankly no longer cared.
She took to passing her eyes over the rest of the couples who occupied the restaurant. Those couples talked together in low, intimate tones. Those couples made eye contact. Those couples laughed.
She turned to Rarity. Rarity was taking a sip of wine. Then, Rarity nodded, as if the wine passed some sort of test.
She met Rainbow’s eyes, and Rainbow’s throat dried.
They both looked away as if they were embarrassed.
Dinner passed quickly and slowly. Rarity must have finished that entire bottle of wine, and then some.
Afterwards, they went dancing.
Rainbow didn’t know why they went dancing. They’d never gone dancing before, and it was awkward to try it for the first time when not in Ponyville. They should have tried it in Ponyville. Ponyville had dance clubs. They should have gone dancing in Ponyville, amongst friends who laughed and jeered and whistled catcalls at them.
Rainbow hated this resort. She’d thought: take Rarity away, and spend some time with her.
She could have spent better time with her in Ponyville.
Her ears folded. But this was nice, wasn’t it? This was a resort in which everything screamed Rarity by being exaggerated in its glamour.
Rarity must’ve liked it. Did Rarity like it? Rainbow couldn’t tell. Rarity was drunk and staggering, and looked to like everything at the moment.
The dance club wasn’t a dance club. Dance clubs were dark, had bright strobe lights, and Vinyl Scratch at the DJ booth. Dance clubs were packed with sweaty bodies grinding to heavy bass.
The place that they went to was lit brightly and had a full band that played makes-you-fall-asleep music. The ponies were in pairs and gyrated around in formalwear. It looked like something out of Canterlot, and Rainbow’s ears splayed.
Nopony paid them any attention though. This was good.
“D-do you wanna dance?” Rainbow asked, pretty sure that there was a code of conduct to this, and that she was asking Rarity in the wrong way.
Rarity was too drunk to care, probably. She nodded.
And then they stood there. Rainbow was probably supposed to take the lead, but how was she to do that?
“Um,” Rainbow said and passed her teeth over her bottom lip. She reached out towards Rarity awkwardly. “How do I do this?”
Rarity pulled her in in a way that said she’d take the lead. She wrapped her hooves around Rainbow’s neck, and then spun them wildly. Rainbow had to maneuver them awkwardly to keep from colliding with another couple. She frowned lightly.
She’d been trained in the art of the dance. It was an embarrassing thing to admit. At that time her mother had been going through a ‘Golden Era’ period, and decorated the house with lavish silk and gold drapes, bought a baby grand, and made Rainbow take lessons in that as well as dance. She’d put up with it, because her mother had needed it. So Rainbow went to her piano lessons and her dance lessons, and then abruptly her mother shifted into the ‘Black Era’, and the piano and dance lessons were history, as were the silk drapes.
Rainbow bit her lip, and brought herself out of her memories.
They twisted and stumbled together, Rainbow trying to pull back against the momentum Rarity had thrown into their wild spin. Finally they found their footing, and Rainbow let her instincts take over as she spun Rarity and then stepped around her to catch her. It was all very natural, and she hated it.
When the band finished with a crescendo, Rainbow wiped at her eyes discreetly and stepped away from Rarity’s hold. “Can we go?” she mumbled. Rarity looked at her and nodded, because she knew.
They turned and left.
Dancing had been a bad idea.
“Rarity?”
“Yes?”
Rainbow forced her eyes from closing. The room was dark; the bed that they laid in was damp. The sheets stuck to her body, clamping on her perspiration. She was soaked in sweat and other things, so soaked that the roots of her mane were slick. She felt a bead of moisture lazily creep down her temple—it tickled.
She wanted to sleep. Her body hummed with exhaustion and the peace post coitus. They had used the bed rather vigorously; they’d used it as they never had before. The most they usually went was three rounds before Rarity called it a night. But this time had been different, for and in a variety of reasons.
They’d come from the dance, and in the next moment Rarity seemed sober. She listened to Rainbow rant of her mother and her delusions that she was in other time periods. She listened patiently, the way that one who sympathizes but doesn’t empathizes listens. It all bled together after that, and somehow they ended up having sex.
Rainbow smiled lazily up at the ceiling as she remembered, but then she frowned as she came back to the present.
“Do you love me?” she asked. There was no forethought to the question and no big build up. There was no desperation in her voice, and maybe there should have been, but in that moment, through the haze of exhaustion and the last clouds of climax, she could not bring herself to care. Yet a part of her did, so that’s why she’d asked the question.
“Of course I love you.”
“How do you love me?”
“Huh?”
“In what way?” Rainbow elaborated, and now her cloudy brain was beginning to wonder why it was she was acting so strange. “Do you love me the way you always have?”
There was silence, and in that silence, Rainbow found her answer.
“No,” Rarity confirmed.
Rainbow took in this fact.
Rarity sighed after a moment. “I must come clean, Rainbow. The last few months, I’ve thought of leaving you.”
“Then why haven’t you?” Rainbow asked. Resignation now clouded her brain—it was not as peaceful as post coital bliss, but it came close. Resignation was an underrated emotion.
“Because I love you,” Rarity sighed. “But not for the reason I should, perhaps.”
“What’s the reason you love me?” Rainbow asked.
She’d asked this question of Rarity before, and Rarity had asked this question of her, too. That was years ago. It was that ego-boosting game that couples often played. They asked, ‘why do you love me?’, but not in awe at their luck of finding someone who loved them. Rather, they sought specific qualities; they wanted their lover to sing their praises and give them compliments. They sought out answers such as ‘you’re funny’, or, ‘you’re sweet’. Come to think of it, she could not remember the answers she gave Rarity, and she could not remember the answers Rarity gave her.
“I stay with you because I cannot stand to see anypony else have you.”
Rainbow closed her eyes, because this did not surprise her. “But what’s the reason you love me?”
“I told you.”
“No. You told me why you stay with me.”
“Oh,” Rarity said dimly. “Well, the reason I love you is…” she trailed off, and the silence was heavy and long with careful consideration. Or perhaps it was suppression.
“Because you have to,” Rainbow finished for her. “Because you want a relationship that’s built on love, even when it isn’t. You want love to be enough.”
“It’s not.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Or maybe we’re unlucky.”
Rainbow shook her head. “Maybe. But I think everypony falls out of love sometime.”
They laid in silence. Then, “Are you going to leave me?” Rarity asked. He voice was soft and told that she would accept whatever answer Rainbow would give her to that question.
“No.”
“How come? How can you stay with me when you know the shallow reasons I stay with you?”
Rainbow smiled bleakly at the ceiling. It said something that she no longer found fault in the two of them talking at the ceiling when they had conversations in bed. “Because I have reasons, too.”
“And what are they?”
“We have memories together: good memories. We’ve been together for three years. I don’t think I have the patience to find somepony else and fall in love with them the way I did with you. I don’t want to put in the effort and waste three more years of my life,” Rainbow admitted, and in saying it, she accepted her own superficial reasons for the first time. When Rarity admitted her reasons, it had finally broken through her own illusions, and Rainbow saw why it was she’d tried so hard to keep Rarity these last few weeks.
No, love wasn’t the reason, but that was okay, because love wasn’t the reason for Rarity, either. In a way, neither of them lost—and actually, they understood each other better this way. This way, there would be no heartbreak. This way, they did not expect more of each other than they could give.
“These are dishonorable grounds for us to stay together.”
Rainbow snorted. “Dishonorable?”
Rarity laughed also. “I could not find a better word.” For a moment, amusement lit her tone. Then it became solemn again. “They’re not good reasons, Rainbow.”
Rainbow shrugged. “They’re reasons, though.”
Rarity sighed. “Yes. They are.”
And they were. They weren’t good reasons, and in the end they both knew that they would end up falling apart. But for now, those reasons would buy them however long they bought them. And when they fell apart, it would be gentle and with an understanding like no other.
Perhaps it was better this way.
Author's Note
Well that's done. I really do like the way this came out, cynical as it is.
