Adagio spat out a few curses as she trudged up the stairs to her apartment, bulging plastic bags hanging from both hands. Every part of her ached; her legs, her arms, and her neck all felt like they had been hit by a chorus of hammers. And yet, nothing seemed to burn more than her massive pillar of curly orange hair, which trailed all the way down to her waist. Every other strand was knotted up, and the few hairs that hung free were stiffer than icicles.
It had been about three months since the Rainbooms defeated Adagio and her partners. As part of their “rehabilitation,” Sunset Shimmer had insisted that they try to reintegrate themselves into society somehow. Sonata had opted to start attending CHS as a student, just like the Rainbooms; Adagio and Aria decided to get jobs.
Well, Aria said she was going to get a job. Adagio hadn’t quite seen the results of that yet—unless one counted the Aria-shaped indent on their couch a result.
Adagio had managed to get a job as a hair model and hairspray tester. While the company used her as the “Before” model a bit too often for her tastes, she had to admit that it was good work, even if her scalp felt like a minefield afterward.
She let out a groan as she entered the apartment, stumbling into the kitchen and throwing the grocery bags down on the table. “I’m home!” she yelped into the air.
She wiped the sweat off of her neck and walked into the living room, only to frown at what she found. Aria was sprawled across the couch in the same position she had been in when Adagio left that morning. The only difference was that now her shirt was covered in loose potato chip crumbs. Aria spared Adagio a grunt as she reached for the remote control.
“I don’t suppose you did any job hunting today?” Adagio asked, walking deeper into the room and casting a glance at the TV. Some bloody action movie was playing, and explosions boomed from both speakers.
Aria shoved another pound of potato chips into her mouth. “I’m looking,” she mumbled, scrolling through the TV guide.
Adagio narrowed her eyes and opened her mouth to start yelling, but was cut off as two arms wrapped around her from the back and pulled her into a tight hug, causing her entire body to tense.
“Guess who?” her assailant sang.
“Sonata, let go of me.”
Sonata giggled and spun away from Adagio, twirling into the center of the room. Taking a glance at her, Adagio couldn’t help but notice that, for the first time in what may have been years, Sonata was wearing a different outfit. Her normal magenta jacket had been replaced by one made of loose, black cloth, and her skirt was made from the same, only frayed at the ends. Her legs were clamped with black fishnets, and the navy streaks in her hair had been darkened to a solid black. A tight plastic collar was wrapped around her neck.
The most striking change, however, had to have been her eyes, which were now smothered in black mascara. She looked like a mortician for clowns. Adagio scanned her up-and-down, only to flinch away when she realized that Sonata was staring right back at her, a wide smile stretched across her face.
“Well?” Sonata said, leaning forward.
“Well, what?”
“Aren’t you gonna ask me why I’m wearing all this?”
Adagio blinked. To be perfectly honest, she had been about to ask, but now that Sonata was asking for it… Adagio shook her head. “No.”
Sonata’s grin disappeared. “Ugh,” she groaned. “You’re such a spoilsport. Just ask me, okay?”
Rolling her eyes, Adagio walked across the room and sank into a chair by the window. “Fine,” she said, trying and failing to run a hand through her knotted hair. “Why are you dressed up like this?”
Sonata squealed and clapped her hands—but just as quickly took a deep breath and said, “I was hanging out with a few of my new friends today, and we were all talking about who we really are, and how we have to hide our true selves from society, because they just wouldn’t understand. Right?”
Adagio didn’t move. “Uh-huh.”
“That got me kinda sad, and it made me think about all the stuff I’ve been keeping inside me. So I told my friends about how I was feeling, and, well…” Sonata spun around, letting her ragged skirt float in the breeze. “Here I am! My friends helped me realize who I really am on the inside!
“I’m going goth!”
Across the room, Aria choked on her potato chips. As her retching filled the air, Adagio covered her face with both hands and sighed. “I knew letting you go back to that school was a bad idea.”
“What?” Sonata’s smile faded. “Why?”
“You’re not a freakin’ goth, idiot,” Aria called, visibly stifling a laugh.
“Yes I am!” Sonata said, crossing her arms. “I’m totally goth.”
“No, you’re not,” Adagio said. “You’re just wearing too much mascara.”
“But I am, though! Sunny Daze and Peachy Pie told me.” Seeing Adagio and Aria’s blank expressions, Sonata frowned and explained, “They’re my friends? I talk about them, like, all the time! They’re both goth, and they told me that I could be goth too, so they’re right!”
“Can’t beat that logic!” Aria chirped, shooting Adagio a smirk.
Adagio massaged her temples. “Sonata, I had a very long day at work. Can we please, please save this stupidity for another day? Or maybe just throw it away completely?”
“It’s not stupid,” Sonata insisted, stomping a foot noiselessly into the carpet. “This is who I am now! I bought this collar, and I dyed my hair, and I listen to that weird screaming music, and I hate everyone, so I’m a goth and that’s that.”
“You don’t hate anyone,” Adagio said. “Even when we were trying to take over the world, you were just being ‘mean’ to people because you were hungry, not because you ever wanted to.”
“Your favorite singer is Sapphire Shores,” Aria noted. “Not exactly dark music. Hell, didn't you invent pop music in Equestria?”
Sonata’s mouth hung for a moment. “Yeah, but—“
“Besides, even if you were goth, I wouldn’t allow it.” Adagio gestured to her eyes. “Mascara costs way too much money to be wasted like that.”
“This is so unfair,” Sonata huffed, pouting. “How come I don’t get to be goth, but Aria does?”
“What?” Aria yipped, nearly choking on her chips again. She jumped up off the couch. “I am not goth. I’m punk.”
Adagio scowled. “Oh, shut up, Aria.”
“I am! I mean, look!” Aria spun around, showing off her tight jeans, her ripped sleeves, and the single safety pin fastened to the back of her jacket. “I’m totally punk!”
“Whatever.” Adagio turned back to Sonata, who was rubbing at her dark eyes and smearing the mascara across her palms. “Sonata, I don’t believe for a second that you had some sort of ‘inner darkness’ hidden inside your soul. Would you mind telling me what’s really going on here? Why are you doing this?”
Sonata sighed and collapsed onto the couch. Her eyes were locked to the carpet. “I… I don’t know!” she said, throwing up a hand and letting it fall. “I guess I just thought that you guys might like it.”
“We might like you wearing fishnets?” Adagio asked.
“No, it’s just that you guys are always making fun of me for being happy, and making friends with people, and stuff like that. And Aria gets to wear a lot of makeup, and you wear all that spiky stuff. What do I have?” Sonata curled up into a ball, holding her knees close to her face. “I just have a bunch of stupid pink stuff. The spikes on my bracelets are made out of paper. I thought that wearing all this dark clothing and hating people would make you guys nicer. But I guess not.”
She buried her head into her knees and murmured, “I guess I’m just a wimp.”
Silence overtook the room. Aria and Adagio shared a long glance before looking back over to Sonata, who was shaking, her eyes hidden away behind her legs. Aria shrugged and turned back to the TV. Adagio kept her gaze held on Sonata for a long moment before sighing and dragging a hand down her face.
“You’re right,” Adagio said. “You are a wimp.”
Her words echoed. Aria’s eyes went wide. Sonata stared, jaw loose, for a few seconds before a low whimper rumbled from her throat. It only took a few seconds for the tears to start falling, smudged black lines against her blue cheeks. She let out a sob—
Adagio’s hand shot up, shaking Sonata into silence. “You are a wimp,” Adagio repeated. “But that’s a good thing.”
“What do you mean?” Sonata asked, sniffling.
“Aria and I are mean,” Adagio said after a moment. “We’re rude, we’re selfish, and we’re evil. That’s how we’ve always been; we’ve always done our best to hurt people we thought were weak, including you. We made fun of you for being friendly to people, because we always thought that was stupid. Wouldn’t you agree, Aria?”
Aria furrowed her brows. “Uh, I guess?”
Adagio nodded. “That was how we always were. But now that we’ve lost our amulets, and we’re working to become ‘good,’ I’ve come to realize: you were right all along. We were the stupid ones.”
Sonata wiped some of the mascara off of her cheeks. “Really?”
“All being mean does is hurt everyone, including yourself. Helping others, getting excited about having friends—that’s the right way to go.” Adagio leaned forward in her chair, far enough to rest a palm over Sonata’s still-shaking hand, and looked her friend in the eye. “Aria and I are still learning that. We’re still getting used to this new life. Don’t use us as role models, Sonata. You’re our role model.”
Sonata tried to swallow, but found her chin quivering too much to even close her mouth. Breaths hitching, she turned to Aria.
Aria shrugged and scooped up another pile of potato chips. “What she said.”
The tears came back. Rivers flowed down Sonata’s face as she leapt to her feet and smothered Aria with a hug, only to sprint over to Adagio and do the same. “I love you guys!”
Adagio managed to pull herself loose enough to breathe. “Well, love may be a strong word,” she said, shoving her hands into Sonata’s chest, “but I appreciate the sentiment.”
Sonata held Adagio like that for a full minute, her head buried into Adagio’s curls. When she finally pulled away, she cast a soft look down at Adagio and murmured, “Thanks, Dagi. You’re super cool.”
The edges of Adagio’s frown wavered upwards. “You’re welcome,” she said, turning her face down. “Now, go and take off those ridiculous clothes.”
“Yep! All this mascara was starting to sting anyway.” Sonata left her two friends with one last grin before skipping away, headed to her bedroom.
As soon as she was out of sight, Adagio let out a whispery sigh and let her head fall back, clunking against the top of the chair she sat in. Her bones still ached, and with every heartbeat her scalp pulsed with pain. And yet, along with the throbbing, she could feel something new running through her body: a sort of warmth, running through her chest and trailing up to her cheeks. She allowed herself a chuckle as Sonata’s image skipped through her head again.
“I totally am punk, though,” Aria said, turning up the TV.
Adagio’s chuckle died. “Oh, shut up.”
