“Applejack,” Rarity said, nursing a drink as clubgoers walked past their table, “I shouldn’t be here.”

“What?” Applejack said, putting down her beer. “You’d rather be at home crying in bed over whats-his-name?”

“We were together five years, Applejack,” Rarity replied, privately relieved that saying it aloud hadn’t drawn out tears then. Every second, she thought of him. Every stupid, quiet moment, she thought of him. God, she was tired of it. Her eyes lingered on two men kissing, and then she turned to her friend. “And this is a gay club. I’m not gay! Can I even be here?”

Applejack rolled her eyes. “Yes, you can be here, Rarity.”

“But I can’t even—! I can’t even date anyone here!” she continued. “Unless they’re bi, I suppose.”

“Good!” Applejack threw her a look. “You’re in no state to date, anyway, sugarcube. Just to have a fun night out.”

“Applejack!”

Rarity looked up to see an attractive young woman walking toward them, her dark blue hair tied up in a ponytail. She was faintly familiar, and after a moment, Rarity recognized her from Applejack’s class. Twilight Sparkle, was it? She almost hadn’t recognized her, so used to seeing her in baggy jeans and hoodies, not at all in a dress and matching accessories.

“Twilight!”

Applejack waved her over, the two engaging in quick small talk as Rarity watched.

“This here’s Rarity,” Applejack eventually introduced. “Brought her here thinking it might distract her from thinking about her ex.”

“Oh? What kind of distraction do you want?” Twilight asked Rarity, the question sounding innocent, but…

“Not the usual kind of distraction,” Applejack immediately replied, saving Rarity from an awkward conversation. “She’s straight.”

“...So you brought her to a gay bar?” Twilight laughed. “Applejack, we’re supposed to be hiding the fact we have an agenda!”

That made Rarity laugh, her nerves and sour humor fading away a little, especially at Twilight’s friendly winning smile.

“Well, I ain’t stepping into a straight bar after last time,” Applejack huffed.

“She’s a heartbreaker,” Rarity clarified to Twilight, giggling. “The number of men that walked away from our table devastated! I’d be jealous if I weren’t taken.” She paused, a great pain in her chest. “Was taken, rather.”

She looked into her drink and wished she were home.

“How do you feel about dancing?”

Twilight was looking at her, a gentle smile on her lips. She gestured to the dance floor.

“Would you like to dance? For fun?” she continued, and despite it all, drew a smile from Rarity’s lips when she firmly but playfully said, “No secret gay agenda involved, I promise. I just like to dance.”

“Badly,” Applejack teased.

“Very badly,” Twilight affirmed. She offered Rarity her hand. “So?”

Rarity hesitated one, two, three seconds before putting her drink down and taking the woman’s hand in hers, making a choice.

“That sounds fun, I think.”

—

And it was fun, Rarity found, having spent the rest of the night with the other woman. They danced, Rarity halfway between mortified and endlessly amused at just how terrible a dancer Twilight was. They talked, about their studies, about Twilight’s robotic inventions, and Rarity’s designs. It was nice, honestly, to have someone for once be genuinely invested in her long rambles on different fabrics, taking more than two seconds to look at the pictures of clothes on Rarity’s phone.

And.

And, Rarity thought, deep into the night, already on her third drink, Twilight was nice to look at. And when she laughed, Rarity laughed, too. Maybe it was suggestion. Maybe it was because this was different, and she was heartbroken, and she was desperate for any kind of distraction, but more than once she felt a tug not unlike the one’s she’d feel towards men when she was single.

Twilight didn’t ask for her number when they left. She only thanked Rarity for the lovely evening, was glad Rarity felt better, and expressed the hope of seeing her at university, maybe.

It took about ten steps out of the club before Rarity ran back in, finding a surprised Twilight by the bar, and asking her for her number. To text, she clarified. And hang out, if that was alright. Be friends.

I’d love that, Twilight’d replied, earnest. She giggled. I must have been a great distraction.

“Well, look at you!” Applejack exclaimed when Rarity came back out, saving the selfie she and Twilight took as the latter’s profile picture. “Maybe there IS a gay agenda!”

“No, there isn’t. We’re just going to be friends, I assure you,” Rarity laughed, and lied, perhaps, which she didn’t walk to think about right then.

All she cared about was that for almost six blissful hours, Rarity hadn’t thought about her ex not even once. That for once, for once, for once, someone had allowed her to let him go, someone else had filled the place in some way or shape, and…

And she didn’t know what that meant. She wasn’t entirely sure she was ready to know what that meant.

All that mattered is that if Twilight Sparkle could manage a miracle of that calibre, then Rarity wanted to see more of her in whatever way she could.

Author's Note

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