Sapphire

Fluttershy took a bite of her salad and listened to her friends speak without hearing any of their words. She hoped they didn’t think her rude for not having spoken in a while, but sometimes listening really was the best part of talking.

Twilight said something now—Fluttershy wasn’t sure what. She wasn’t paying much attention to what Twilight said, though Fluttershy cared about that, too, of course. But sometimes Fluttershy liked to sit quietly and listen to the ebb and flow, rise and fall, the melody and rhythm of her friends’ voices instead of their words.

Twilight spoke, and Fluttershy closed her eyes and listened. Twilight’s voice sounded rhythmic and considered, not quite deliberate, but still with the studied, self-aware rapport of teacher and student. Twilight was always either trying to teach somepony something or learn something from somepony else. Even now, as they all relaxed together around a glass-topped table at the Bluestone Cafe on a warm early summer evening, Twilight couldn’t help teaching and learning.

The Bluestone was a little outdoor cafe not too far away from Ponyville’s busy market and central square, but not too close, either. The Bluestone never hosted more than a handful of ponies at a time, and that suited Fluttershy just fine, so of course she had accepted when Rarity had invited her to a light dinner with Twilight, Rainbow Dash, and herself.

Rainbow Dash interrupted Twilight, and interrupted Fluttershy’s musings, too. Fluttershy didn’t catch what Dash said, but she caught how Rainbow had said it, which was even better sometimes. Rainbow Dash’s voice sounded loud, excited and excitable like a foal on holiday and showoffy like a rooster at sunrise, a laugh and a boast both lying just underneath every word and ready to rise up to the surface at any moment.

Fluttershy focused on their words again. It would be rude to ignore her friends for too long.

“No,” Twilight said, rolling her eyes. “Why would I have worn stockings? I didn’t wear anything.”

“Which is a nigh-travesty,” Rarity said. “You knew very well I would have been more than willing to provide you with proper attire. It’s simply bad form to go flanks-bare on one’s first date.”

“Nah,” Rainbow Dash said, smirking. “It’s not your flanks you cover up. Those are what you want ‘em to look at.”

Fluttershy frowned and looked down at her salad while her friends talked. Sometimes, especially times like now, it really could be much better to listen to how her friends spoke instead of what they spoke about. And now her friends were, as they had been all evening, talking about Twilight’s date with Solemn Guard, the captain of her new royal escort. Fluttershy didn’t care much to hear about that.

But Fluttershy did care, or at least she knew she should, but that didn’t mean she wanted to hear about it right now, or all evening long, or maybe ever.

No, Fluttershy scolded herself. That wasn’t right. Twilight was her friend. A good friend would have listened. And it wasn’t that Fluttershy didn’t care. She cared how Twilight’s date had gone, and whether Twilight had a good time, and whether Twilight liked him and wanted to go on another. Fluttershy just… didn’t want to hear about it, because she didn’t want to think about dates and coltfriends or marefriends. Because, inevitably, that line of thought and that discussion would circle round to herself.

“And then,” Twilight said, smiling, “after I found Canis Major through the telescope for him, he didn’t even look because he said would rather look into my eyes than through a telescope because that’s where the real beauty was.”

“Are you serious?” Rainbow Dash bounced in her chair and laughed, knocking messy leftovers off her plate of what had once been a daisy sandwich but was now an unappetizing mishmash of soggy bits of bread and crushed tomatoes. “That’s the corniest thing I’ve ever heard. He didn’t really say that, did he?”

Twilight’s smile vanished. “Yes, and just because it’s corny doesn’t mean it isn’t romantic.”

Fluttershy sighed and nibbled at a spinach leaf while her friends kept talking. She didn’t want to eat too quickly. After she ate all her salad she wouldn’t have anything left to distract herself with. She wished Applejack were there. Applejack would have talked about farm stock and field work, and her voice would have been earthy, simple, steady and strong as the trees she raised, and Fluttershy would have felt a little less anxious just listening to it.

Except that’s not what Applejack would have talked about, Fluttershy remembered. Applejack would have talked about Golden Harvest. All Applejack talked about nowadays was Golden Harvest. The two had gotten together a month or so before, and they seemed to be getting along well. Every time Applejack talked about Golden, she would smile in a strangely familiar and pleasant and faroff way that made Fluttershy want to smile and frown at the same.

As Applejack’s friend, Fluttershy should have been happy for her. And she was. She mostly was. But it made her anxious and resentful about other things, things she knew a good pony would never feel anxious or resentful about, but knowing what to feel didn’t always mean knowing how to feel it. Because Applejack had Golden Harvest, and now Twilight had Solemn Guard, and Rainbow Dash had been ‘hooking up’ with Spitfire for months, and Rarity was always doting on some noble stallion or mare, and even Pinkie Pie seemed to be spending an awful lot of time with Cheerilee recently, and Fluttershy had… Well, Fluttershy had them. Fluttershy had her friends, and that had been more than enough for so long.

“I truly am happy for you, Twilight, dear,” Rarity said, taking a dainty sip of her tea. “Scant few things in this world can alleviate the burdens of the soul so much as blossoming love, except perhaps a warm, scented bath followed by a light massage. Love and taking care of oneself go hoof-in-hoof, I’m sure. The body is a temple, they say. But, Twilight, I feel positively refreshed simply hearing you speak of him, like I’ve just returned home from the spa or taken an afternoon nap. Oh, I do envy you. Why...”

Fluttershy smiled and closed her eyes and hummed silently to herself while Rarity’s voice washed over her coat and wings and withers like cool, clean cloudwater. Fluttershy enjoyed listening to all of her friends speak, of course, and she didn’t like picking favorites, and it wasn’t that she liked any of her friends more than any of her other friends, but she did enjoy listening to Rarity’s voice more than anypony else’s.

Rarity spoke like a ballerina danced. She spoke neatly and elegantly, her cadence deft and graceful. She danced from syllable to syllable, balanced, deliberate, never missing a step. Her speech had a natural rhythm, as if meant to be set to music, and while listening Fluttershy liked to try to decide what musical piece would best underlie her voice that day, but nothing ever quite fit.

When Rarity spoke, it was a performance. Listening to her speak was like watching a whole ballet. Fluttershy loved ballets, but living in Ponyville she didn’t get the chance to see many. Rarity had promised her once that they would take a trip to Manehatten someday and watch a proper ballet together, but they never had. Fluttershy would have liked that very much. She thought about reminding Rarity of it. She didn’t want to bug her friend, but a trip to the ballet would have been very nice.

Until then, though, she felt content to simply listen to Rarity speak, which was fine, especially now, because listening to Rarity speak of love was best of all.

Rarity had a passion for romance matched only by the classical poets. She had a passion for passion, it could be said, and that passion shone through her every word. She spoke of love and her voice jumped and swept and twirled, quick and sprightly. If Rarity’s voice were an opera instead of a ballet, talk of love would have been her aria.

Spending an evening in the spa, sitting in the bath, water up to her chest, feathers wholly submerged in warm water, smelling the oils and incense, maybe drinking from a small chinaware cup of strawberry tea, and closing her eyes and listening to Rarity speak romance—it was one of Fluttershy’s favorite things in the whole world.

The way Rarity spoke of it, love seemed so very magical and fantastic, like something out of a fairy tale. And Rarity spoke with an enthusiasm that, while more subdued and graceful than Rainbow Dash’s or Pinkie Pie’s, was equally infectious. But, not that Fluttershy would ever complain, and it was a silly thing to feel anyway, it did make Fluttershy feel a little lonely at times.

“Blah, blah, blah,” Rainbow Dash cut in. “Who cares about that? C’mon, Twi, get to the good stuff already.”

“Good stuff?” Twilight asked.

“You know what I mean.” Dash smirked and waggled her eyebrows ridiculously up and down and all around.

“Rainbow,” Rarity said, and sighed, “must you always go so far out of your way to be crass?”

“It’s not called ‘crass,’” Dash said. “It’s called ‘not being totally boring.’”

Rarity sighed again, but didn’t respond.

Fluttershy felt a little disappointed at that.

Dash smirked at Twilight. “So, skipping all the cheesy stuff, what’d you guys do at the end of the night? He invite you over to his place, or what?”

“Really now, Rainbow, you know full well that is a wholly inappropriate question,” Rarity chided, but then she smiled at Twilight. “But, Twilight, I think you should feel perfectly free to answer, if you wish to. Perfectly free. We’re all modern mares, of course, and I’m sure others at the table would be curious to know, too.”

Fluttershy looked around to confirm that she, Twilight, Rainbow Dash, and Rarity were still the only ponies sitting at the table, and Fluttershy knew she herself certainly wasn’t curious.

“He didn’t invite me anywhere,” Twilight said, and both Rarity and Rainbow Dash looked disappointed. But then Twilight blushed and added, “Because I invited him to stay the night at the castle.”

“In the royal suite?” Rarity asked, eyebrows raised.

“If you mean my bedroom, which you can just call my bedroom, then yes.”

Fluttershy went back to eating her salad.

“Atta’ girl!” Dash reached across the table and extended her hoof to Twilight, which Twilight lightly bumped with her own. “I always knew Princess Egghead had it in her! All thanks to my coaching, I’m sure.”

“Your ‘coaching’ had nothing to do with it,” Twilight said. “And it’s really no big deal.”

“Pish posh,” Rarity said. “A mare’s first is a special and extraordinary experience. It is the very definition of, to use your words, a big deal. And I for one congratulate you. I daresay, you have finally had your first blissful, sweet taste of true romance. You’re no filly any longer, but a proper mare.”

Fluttershy choked on a crouton. She had never heard Rarity say anything like that before, never heard her imply that mares who hadn’t, well… To say they weren’t ‘proper’ mares...

“Well, thanks, I guess,” Twilight said, and began eating from the hay fries piled on her plate. They were no doubt cold by now, but Twilight had ordered a double-extra serving, so she had plenty to last.

Rainbow Dash and Rarity watched her expectantly.

Fluttershy thought more about what Rarity had said. Fluttershy was a proper mare. She knew that. She was mostly certain of it. Reasonably sure, at least. But Rarity was right about so many things. She always seemed to know more about the world than Fluttershy.

Twilight finally noticed her friends watching her. “What?”

“Details!” Rarity cried. “Details! You can’t tease us with the mention of something so fantastic as new love and scandalous as royal bedroom flourishes and then not say anything more! How did you feel? Were you not positively overwrought with nervous excitement beforehand? What did you say? What did he say? And what about this morning? Does the world not appear to your eye to have some new sheen that it did not before? Do you feel as if you are now whole in some way you didn’t even realize you were incomplete before? We need details! The juicier the better!”

“The wetter the better,” Dash said, and snickered.

Rarity glared at her.

Fluttershy looked down at her salad as Twilight said something else. To her dismay, she found her plate empty but for a few bits of slippery, slimy spinach leaves and tomato dices. She sighed inwardly but tried to make sure her disappointment didn’t show on her face. She tried not to listen to Twilight, but not listening meant thinking, and thinking meant thinking about what Rarity had said about the difference between mares and fillies, and thinking about that meant feeling anxious and confused.

Fluttershy sighed again, outwardly this time.

“And you know what this means,” Rainbow Dash said, smirking and looking right across the table at Fluttershy.

Fluttershy recognized that smirk. It was a lot playful, a little unintentionally cruel, and all trouble. It meant Rainbow Dash was about to tease her. Fluttershy wished she wouldn’t. Rainbow usually only did so out of good fun, and Fluttershy knew it was important to have a sense of humor about oneself, at least Rarity said so, but Fluttershy really wished Rainbow Dash wouldn’t tease her today.

“What?” Twilight asked.

“Fluttershy’s the only one who hasn’t done—” Rainbow Dash took a great, dramatic pause and looked from side to side, from Twilight to Rarity “—it.”

Fluttershy slumped in her chair and let her mane fall across her face. The loose hair made her nose feel itchy.

“It?”

“Yup,” Dash said, leaning back in her chair and looking satisfied. “It.”

Twilight gave her a blank look.

Rainbow Dash rolled her eyes. “She’s still a virgin, jeez!”

Twilight and Rarity both looked at Fluttershy, and Fluttershy looked at the ground.

“Really?” Twilight asked. “I suppose it isn’t all that surprising, though. I only just lost mine.”

“But she’s older than you!” Rainbow Dash said. “And me! And Rarity!”

“Well…” Twilight glanced at Fluttershy again. “I guess it is a little strange, but I don’t see why it matters.”

Fluttershy shrunk further down in her seat.

“It totally matters,” Dash said. “Ponies our age are supposed to have done stuff like that by now.”

“But,” Fluttershy stuttered out. “You—I’m not the only one. You’re still—when did you…?”

“Um, what do you think me and Spitfire do together?” Dash asked. “It’s not like I’ve been flying up to Cloudsdale once a week to go on playdates.”

“But what about Pinkie Pie? She wouldn’t—”

“Are you kidding me?” Dash said, laughing. “Pinkie Pie’s gotten tail all over town! And why do you think she’s been bumping flanks with Cheerilee all the time and giving her free food at Sugarcube Corner and stuff?”

“But—” Fluttershy looked to Twilight, who offered her a sympathetic frown. Fluttershy then looked to Rarity, her last possible bastion of support.

Rarity’s cheeks turned the lightest shade of pink. “Well, I am a modern mare, dear.”

Fluttershy looked back down at the leftovers of her salad. Was she really the only one? All of her friends? She knew they had started moving on, growing up, but she hadn’t realized it had happened so quickly. She hadn’t realized that every one of them had already left her behind.

“See!” Dash said, waving her hooves about. “I told you it was weird.”

“Rainbow Dash!” Rarity said, curtly. “That’s enough of that language. It is not ‘weird.’ A lady may wait however long as she pleases before choosing to give herself to another. It is one of the most beautiful gifts and privileges a mare possesses, and if some do not treat that decision so lightly as you do, that does not make them ‘strange.’ Fluttershy’s hesitance simply makes her… prudent.”

Fluttershy peeked out of her mane a little and felt a little warmer. She had known Rarity would understand, that Rarity could defend her. And Rarity understood romance and relationships better than anyone!

“As lightly as I do? What the hay is that supposed to mean?” Dash asked.

“Only that every mare must follow her own way,” Rarity said. “And Fluttershy’s way being different from yours is no justification for mocking her.”

“Some ponies develop more slowly than others,” Twilight said absentmindedly, not looking away from her leftovers.

Fluttershy frowned.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Dash said. “I’m just saying, most ponies have done that by now. You have. I have. Even Twilight! And she’s probably read more books than she’s had actual conversations with other ponies. She spends so much time with books that I used to think some day she was just gonna make out with one of her favorite novels and then shove it up her butt or something and call it a day.”

Twilight looked at her with a mix of perplexion and revulsion, but said nothing.

“And?” Rarity asked.

“And,” Dash said. “Fluttershy’s never even had a coltfriend. All of us have had sex, and she’s probably never done anything more than kissed another pony. I get that everypony goes at their own speed, and I’m obviously faster than everyone else, but aren’t things like, you know, love and romance and marefriends and stuff one of those really important things that everypony is supposed to do at some point? At least by now? Isn’t that why you’re always talking about it?”

“Well,” Rarity said, but then said nothing else, appearing to be at a loss for words.

Fluttershy sunk so low in her chair her chin could have rested on the tabletop.

Rainbow Dash was right, of course. Fluttershy often thought those same things—that she was missing something, that she was going too slowly, that she wasn’t growing up, and that her friends were moving on—and now she knew the rest of her friends thought so, too.

“Rainbow Dash has a point, Fluttershy,” Twilight said, taking a break from her hay fries and smiling softly. “Not that I want to pressure you in anyway. I know it might be embarrassing for you, but you’ve done such a wonderful job these past couple years becoming more confident and assertive, maybe now it’s time to take the next step?”

“Exactly!” Dash said. “It’s not like you’re lacking in looks or anything. You could get any stallion you wanted! It’d be a waste to let somepony as hot as you get old without ever getting any and then turning into a crazy cat lady—” Dash glanced side-wise at Rarity “—or I guess you’d become more of a crazy bear and cockatrice lady. That’d actually be kind of cool, now that I think about it…”

Rarity cleared her throat. “Fluttershy, dear, what I think Rainbow is very poorly trying to say is that intimate love is one of the most exquisite of all life’s experiences, and that you are a beautiful and kind mare who deserves to feel it for yourself. And, well, I do agree with her.”

“I think you two might be making a bigger deal out of this than it warrants,” Twilight said, going back to her cold hay fries. “It’s sexual intercourse, not spiritual enlightenment. Fluttershy should start dating sometime, but having sex isn’t going to change her life.”

“Whatever,” Dash said. “Rarity gets it. Get some or get out, right?”

“More or less,” Rarity said. “Mostly less.”

Fluttershy didn’t look anywhere but down, her mane draped over her face.

“I’m not saying this to embarrass you,” Rarity said, touching Fluttershy’s shoulder. “You understand that, yes?”

“I know,” Fluttershy said, feeling like a filly being admonished by the teacher in front of the whole class. And also like she should have stayed home at her cottage with her animal friends that evening. Her animal friends didn’t see her as a child. She was their caretaker, responsible and in control. At least at home she could feel like an adult.

“Fluttershy?” Rarity asked softly, insistently.

Fluttershy glanced up, and through her mane she saw Rarity, leaning close and smiling so encouragingly and kindly that Fluttershy couldn’t help but smile back and feel a little silly.

Rarity opened her mouth to say something, but just then a voice called out from nearby.

“Hey, Rarity!”

Fluttershy turned, along with the rest of the ponies at the table, to see a pink-red unicorn mare who looked barely older than a filly trotting towards them and waving.

Fluttershy recognized her. Her name was Velvet, and she had a Boxer puppy that had been sick with an ear infection a couple weeks back. Velvet had brought him to Fluttershy. His name was Pepper and he had been a little rambunctious and selfish and hadn’t played well with the other animals, but Fluttershy could tell he had a good heart. Fluttershy had given him some vaccinations, and he had been very brave. She hoped he was doing well.

Of course, Fluttershy also knew Velvet because she worked… there, the place Fluttershy had to pass every time she walked into or out of town, but just thinking about that place made her blush a little.

“Hello, Velvet,” Rarity called back, waving her over. “How are you, dear?”

“Awesome!” Velvet said, voice cheery and high pitched. She stopped by their table. “I haven’t seen you in a while. So what’s up?”

“Just sharing a late lunch with friends,” Rarity said, gesturing to the table. “Would you like to join us?”

“No I—oh! Hey, Fluttershy!”

Fluttershy smiled. “Um, hello.”

“I did everything you said and Pepper’s doing way better.”

“I’m glad. Pepper is a very nice little puppy.”

“Nah, he’s a jerk. But at least he’s not a sick jerk anymore. Oh!” Velvet’s eyes widened when she saw Twilight. “It’s the Ponyville Princess Pony! Hey, Ponyville Princess Pony! How’s being Ponyville Princess Pony treating you?”

“You can call me Twilight,” Twilight said, still seeming more interested in her hay fries than anything else. “And very well, thank you for asking.”

“Oh, wow! And Rainbow Dash! Rarity, you have really cool friends.”

Rainbow Dash snickered and winked at her.

“Thank you,” Rarity said. “And as I said, you are free to join us, if you’d like.”

“And I’ll sign an autograph for five bits,” Dash added, pulling out a handful of head shots from seemingly nowhere. “I’ll sign three for twelve. I call it the party pack deal.”

“Do you carry those around with you everywhere?” Twilight asked.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“No thanks,” Velvet said, and then turned to Rarity. “And no thanks. I’m actually on my way to Lackington’s right now. The auction starts pretty soon.”

“It’s time for the auction already?” Rarity asked, glancing to the Bluestone’s only clock. “Oh my, this evening positively flew by me. I wanted to attend the auction as well, and, Twilight, weren’t you scheduled to make a royal appearance at the opening?”

“Hm?” Twilight swallowed a final mouthful of hay fries. “Oh, yeah. I promised Mayor Mare. We should probably get going.”

Rarity stood up, floated her saddlebags onto her back, and then floated a coin purse out of her saddlebag. “I will pay, of course. Velvet, wait a moment and we’ll walk with you.”

“Sweet,” Dash said, jumping out her chair and stretching. “I told Spitfire I would be in Cloudsdale tonight, so I should head out now.”

“Didn’t you just fly to Cloudsdale two days ago?” Twilight asked, standing up.

“Exactly,” Dash said. “Me and Spitfire haven’t hung out for, like, two whole days. I gotta go. See ya!” With a single flap of her wings, she was in the air, and then with a second she was already far away.

“Fluttershy,” Rarity said, touching her shoulder, “would you like to come with us to the auction? I would really appreciate it.” Rarity smiled, as if to assure Fluttershy that all talk of crudeness was finished and it was safe to come out again. “We could find you a new scarf, perhaps? The days will start getting cold soon, well, if a certain friend of ours will spend a little more time at work and a little less time in Spitfire’s down feathers, that is.”

“Oh.” Fluttershy looked down at the table and unfolded and then folded her wings. “Um, no thanks. I think I need to go back to the cottage now, and, uh, I’m a little tired.” Fluttershy fake-yawned to show just how tired she was. Far too tired to go to any auctions, and far, far too tired to handle any new scarves, no matter how cold the days might soon become.

“That’s fine,” Rarity said, nodding. “I trust I’ll see you tomorrow at the spa, then? At our usual time?”

“Of course.”

“Wonderful! And have a fine evening.” Rarity looked to Twilight and Velvet. “Shall we be off then?”

Twilight and Velvet wished her goodbye with varying levels of enthusiasm and hay fry breath, and then the three of them trotted away.

When they were out of sight, Fluttershy got up and gathered her things in a haste and tidied up the table and then galloped in the direction of her cottage.

__________________________________________________

Fluttershy didn’t slow down until she reached Ponyville’s outskirts, and only then because her breath came in ragged, painful gasps and her legs ached. She didn’t know why she ran. She knew what she ran from, just not why.

She knew she couldn’t ever get away from it. She knew she shouldn’t even want to get away from it, but she still did, and she still couldn’t. She couldn’t run and she couldn’t hide. Locking herself in her cottage wouldn’t work. Creeping unseen into the Everfree wouldn’t work. Spreading her wings and flying and getting lost in the nigh-infinite dominion of the sky wouldn’t work. She knew because she had tried all those before, more than once, and every effort had ended terribly.

Except that wasn’t true at all. Every effort at escape had failed, but they had been wonderful failures. Because what Fluttershy ran from she didn’t even really want to get away from. Except she did, and, oh, she felt terrible for it. She felt ungrateful and petty. She felt lowly and dirty, like she was taking something without giving anything back, like she was slinking off into the night without telling anyone, like a criminal galloping away from the scene of the crime. She felt… she felt…

Oh, she felt sick. She stopped and grabbed a nearby bench for support. Her legs shook. Her stomach heaved. Her salad tickled the back of her throat and then spat up onto her tongue, acidic and warm and slimy.

Fluttershy thought about Rarity, the very last pony she wanted to think about, and silently repeated Rarity’s instructions. Deep breaths. That was the first thing. Deep, deep breaths. One, two, three, four. Deep, deep. One, two, three, four. She breathed deep and her hooves stopped shaking and her stomach stopped heaving. She swallowed and the salad slid back down her throat.

The second step was to close her eyes and think about something nice. Something simple and calming. Something she might think about while lying in bed at night to help her fall asleep.

Fluttershy closed her eyes and thought about Rarity singing, something that happened far too scarcely, the times when Rarity’s voice truly became music. It was only ever little things, short, vague melodies. Humming during a lull in conversation while receiving massages at the spa. Whistling softly while Fluttershy helped her arrange Carousel Boutique’s display windows. Mumbling a more elegant version of one of Pinkie Pie’s many impromptu songs while prodding and snipping and tightening some dress Fluttershy was modeling for her.

Fluttershy smiled and hummed a little to herself, then hastily opened her eyes and looked about, but she was alone. She was far away from the center of town, and most ponies were probably at the Mayor’s auction, anyway.

The third and last of the short series of steps devised by Rarity to help Fluttershy keep her panic attacks under control was to go find Rarity, no matter what the unicorn was doing or where she was (because, Rarity had explained, nothing mattered more than helping a friend in crisis), and explain to her exactly what had happened.

The unofficial final step was that she and Rarity would then share a pot of tea or Rarity would let Fluttershy play with her mane for a while or Rarity would help Fluttershy in her garden—anything at all, really. It didn’t matter, so long as they did it together.

Fluttershy didn’t like to bother Rarity, and she was really getting much better at not letting her anxiety overwhelm her, so she didn’t go to Rarity often with these kinds of problems, at least not anymore. But Rarity’s steps had worked, without fail, each and every single time, and Fluttershy desperately wished she could go to Rarity now. But Fluttershy couldn’t go to Rarity, because Rarity was the pony Fluttershy was running away from.

Not just Rarity, all of her friends, which was silly and useless. If she should have been running anywhere, it should have been towards them. Escape was impossible.

If she locked herself in her cottage, Pinkie Pie and Twilight would simply wait outside until she came out, calling words of encouragement and support through the door. If she crept into the Everfree, Applejack would come after her. If she took to the sky, Rainbow Dash would catch up to her within moments of taking off. And no matter where she went or under what bed she hid, Rarity always knew exactly where to look for her.

And then Fluttershy and her friends would sit down and talk the problem over together, and she would end up feeling childish for ever having run away and everything would end up being okay. Not only okay. Better than before.

But not this time. Not when the problem was her friends themselves. Or—no, Fluttershy realized, remembering the conversation at the Bluestone. The problem wasn’t her friends, the problem was herself.

Fluttershy started back towards her cottage again, slower than before, as the sun fell below the horizon and the sky turned to dusk and a cold breeze rustled her tail and mane.

Her friends had said:

Weird.

Strange.

Ponies our age.

Playdates.

Still a filly.

Some ponies develop slower.

Growing up.

Romance.

Marefriends.

Virgin.

Sex.

That was the big one. Each and every single one of her friends, every member of their close-knit circle except her… Fluttershy had known for a long time that she would have more trouble than the others being intimate with somepony else. She had known she would probably be the last one. She had thought she would be okay with that.

But it had happened so fast. She hadn’t even realized it was happening until it was already over. Worse, because of that one little difference, her friends might not even see her as an adult anymore.

Fluttershy knew she was weaker than most other ponies. Softer, more naive, probably less intelligent. She could accept all of her limitations because she had strengths, too, strengths her friends had helped her recognize and nurture. She was kind and responsible and independent and she could take care of any animal and any pony, and that included herself. She was a mare, she thought, and she kicked a little at the dirt on her next step.

Wasn’t she?

If it had been any other pony, any other pony at all who said it, but it had been Rarity. Rarity had said that the difference between adult and foal, the catalyst of the transformation from filly to mare—was sex. Something so very insignificant and meaningless as sex.

That’s what Fluttershy had told herself, for years and years and years. That sex didn’t matter. That it wasn’t important if she had never had a coltfriend. That it didn’t make any difference if she had only ever been kissed once. She had her friends, she had her animals, and she had her cottage. But now all of her friends had been intimate with somepony else, were growing up and moving away from her, not physically, but emotionally. Fluttershy couldn’t ignore it anymore, couldn’t escape it.

It mattered. Sex mattered.

Fluttershy had those kinds of thoughts, of course. She looked at other ponies that way, too. It made her feel guilty and rude, but she did. She had dreams. She had fantasies. She didn’t ignore them, she just… didn’t think about them. Because thinking about them meant thinking about what she lacked, what was missing from her, trying to understand why these things came so easily to other ponies and not to her.

And it made her feel stupid and childlike and strange. So she just stopped. Gave up. She didn’t think about it, and then she found her friends, and they had been so much more than enough for so long.

Now it had all changed. Her friends weren’t enough anymore, because all of her friends had something more than her, more than she did. Fluttershy wasn’t jealous. Her friends had lots of things she didn’t. But this was different. They wouldn’t need her as often now. They wouldn’t want to be with her as often. Because they would all have somepony they needed and wanted more than anyone, and Fluttershy didn’t. It was already happening.

All her friends, even Rarity, especially Rarity, didn’t even see her as a real mare. They were leaving her behind. They probably didn’t even realize it, but they were.

Fluttershy swallowed and shook her head. She wasn’t that pony anymore, the kind of pony who ran away from things that were scary or hid under the bed when she came upon something she didn’t understand and didn’t want to think about. She wasn’t weak and scared, not with her friends. She wouldn’t be left behind. She would just have to… to do that.

Fluttershy winced and forced herself to think the word.

Sex.

To have sex. To have a coltfriend.

Well, preferably a marefriend, but maybe if she met a nice colt he could be okay, too. It wouldn’t be fair to leave anypony out without giving them a chance. She could do it. She had done a lot of scary things with her friends, much scarier things than this. Fluttershy smiled and raised her head and walked forward more briskly.

But her steps soon faltered. A single question appeared in her mind that broke all her resolve.

Who?

Who could she hope? Who could she dare? Who could she do that with? Who would do that with her? Who who who?

Fluttershy didn’t know many ponies. Or she did, but not well, not well enough for that. Meeting ponies was hard. Speaking with ponies was harder. Fluttershy could do it. With her friends’ help, she had even gotten kind of good at it. But becoming friends with ponies was harder than anything, and she wasn’t good at that. She only had a few close friends, and even those few left her feeling exhausted sometimes. She loved them and it wasn’t a bad kind of exhaustion. It was the kind of exhaustion she felt after feeding all of the cats and dogs and bunnies and raccoons and birds and fish around her cottage in the morning, or after spending a day welcoming a new one into her home, or after working in the garden all afternoon.

But it was still a kind of exhaustion, and so Fluttershy had never really tried to make more friends, because the ones she had already seemed like too much for her sometimes.

Now she needed to not only make new friends, but marefriends. That meant flirting and dating and first kisses, and Fluttershy didn’t know how to do any of those, either. As often as Rarity spoke of romance, Fluttershy couldn’t remember her ever talking about the practical how of it.

Fluttershy could ask her friends for help. They would know.

Except she couldn’t do that. It would be too embarrassing, too much like the filly asking the adults for help with her first crush. Fluttershy had to do this herself. She knew enough that a special somepony was supposed to be someone she was close to, but the only ponies Fluttershy was close to were her friends. Could… could she do that with one of them?

Fluttershy suddenly thought about Rarity, about her smile and how she smiled at all of Fluttershy’s stories about her animals and about Rarity’s mane and the way her mane felt when Fluttershy ran her hooves through it and about her voice, oh, her voice, and the way Rarity sounded when—

Fluttershy roughly shook her head. No. No, of course she couldn’t, and she especially shouldn’t think that way about her friends. It was impolite and selfish and vulgar.

No, she couldn’t do that with any of her friends, and she couldn’t do that with anyone else, either, not unless she learned how to flirt and then how to date and then how to kiss, and then how to do all that with some other pony, some stranger who might laugh or tell her that they didn’t like her.

Fluttershy stopped walking and stood to the side of the empty, darkening street. Wasn’t there some other way? Something simpler, easier, less embarrassing, that wouldn’t make her feel like a child, like she was different, like she was missing something inside that everypony else had?

Fluttershy looked around herself, in the impossible hope that a solution would somehow magically materialize in the street before her.

And then she saw it.

Fluttershy lived outside Ponyville, and that meant that whenever she walked home she had to walk through the outskirts of town, and walking through the outskirts of town meant walking past all the businesses on the edge of town, the ones that didn’t make enough to afford rent further in town and the ones that chose to set up away from town, that preferred to stay generally unseen and out of the way. Ponyville was a small town, so it didn’t have a lot of establishments that could be considered disreputable. A couple bars and some stores that sold things a pony might want but certainly wouldn’t want to carry out in the open where lots of ponies would see, but not much else.

And then there was it. It looked the same as most other buildings in Ponyville—small, single story, thatched roof, wooden walls, covered windows. The only difference was what it held inside. It was a building most ponies in Ponyville probably didn’t know about, one Fluttershy walked past every time she went into or out of town, one she never dared look at except in the quickest and most discreet of glances, the one Velvet worked inside.

Fluttershy looked at it now, and wondered.

Then she blushed furiously and cantered away.

Of course she couldn’t. Rarity would have been ashamed of her for even considering it.

And with that, the last of her options was lost to her, the last door closed.

Fluttershy walked down the path that led to her cottage, not because she was running away anymore, but because she didn’t know where else to go.