Rarity hates waking up crying. It takes her at least an hour, if not an hour and a half, to get ready for bed each night. After that, sleep is thankfully quick to rest on her eyelids. Waking up and falling back to sleep after that? Not as easy. Getting jerked awake by heaving sobs usually set her sleep schedule back a whole hour which got old quick. Speaking of getting old, did you know that having your REM cycle messed with only speeds up the aging process? Rarity didn’t know if that was true or not but it was a great excuse to go to sleep early.
Which she has had to do for the past what, six nights? Now seven if you want to keep track. That makes a week. She’s been having these dreams for a week. She calls them dreams because they aren’t scary enough to be nightmares. They aren’t really scary at all, she supposes. Not in a Nightmare Night kind of way at least. Maybe just scary because she knows how fake they are. She knows that when she feels warm and safe and secure like she does in her dreams when she wakes up it’s all just going to be… gone.
So she's crying again. Who cares? Not her! She loves crying. She loves knowing that the one pony that she cared for the most would never see her in the way she wanted. That she’s never going to get to wrap her forelegs around that strong chest and bury her muzzle in that sun-soaked mane. Unrequited love is a common feature in her life so why did this one make her chest feel so empty?
That is a question she could nurse as she trotted out to her kitchen. If anything could soothe a broken heart it would be an ill-advised late-night snack. She opted for something simple, floating two apples to her from the bowl they sat in. Her mind wandered as she bit into the first, munching and crunching idly. Maybe she could write a letter. Let the object of her affection know, if not via face-to-face interaction, how she felt. It had to be done. She couldn’t let this continue on any longer.
Finishing the last bite of her first apple, she brought the second one into her living room with her. She lit the lamp on the table and took a seat, pulling up a piece of parchment and a quill. She set her quill in the inkpot, thinking of how to best start her letter. Something simple and unassuming would work best, no doubt.
Dearest Applejack,
I’m afraid I have much to confess. I have counted you amongst my closest friends for quite some time now and I’m certain you feel the same. That is why this is so hard for me and why this letter has been so long in the making.
I really like you, Applejack. As much more than just a friend. You remember that apron of yours that went missing? Truth is that I… took it. It just reminded me of you so strongly it was impossible to resist. The guilty soul inside of me has since led me to double my donations to your farm but that’s beside the point.
I wanted you to know how I felt about you. I understand if you might not feel the same or otherwise be conflicted. I realise this is probably very sudden. Hopefully you understand.
With Heart,
Rarity
Applejack always greeted the sun as it rose. It had been a part of her life for years now, a ritual awakening that was inseparably entangled with the fabric of her daily life. She got quite a bit of deep thinking in the early morning hours as she attended to various basic household chores. Today was a little different though. Different compared to the grand average, at least. If you looked at the past couple days it definitely seemed to follow a trend.
The trend being one of disorganized thought. A rare enemy of hers by any measure, it was one she found difficult to fight off. She was hardly able to get anything done! Thankfully that was only the case for when she first woke. Once the sun had risen her mind's restlessness gave way to the steady thrum of hot blood in her veins but the first few hours of daybreak left her brain scattered.
She decided to stop pretending she was actually capable of concentrating on anything and took a seat instead. Sitting was good for thinking too. Not that she needed to do any more of that. It was thinking that got her into this mess in the first place. Thinking that she was deserving of the kind of love she was looking for. Especially from the pony she had in mind. Thinking she even had a chance! Applejack might have many things but a chance was not one of them. There was that adage that talked about shots taken and missed versus shots not taken at all. It was one she had been giving a lot of thought recently.
So she’d give it a shot. She’d try her best. She’d finally tell that beautiful, powerful soul just how much they meant to her. Just how much she cared. She’d write a letter. Letters were perfect for creating buffers, for protecting the sender from the true nature of the receiver's immediate response. Letters were great because they give both parties involved in the exchange time to collect and compose their thoughts. None of that messy in-pony type stuff. Just write it down, stick it in an envelope, slap a sticker on it, and away it went. Easy stuff. Almost as easy as starting the letter in the first place.
To My Good Friend Rarity,
I’ve been thinking about you an awful lot lately. The truth is that I haven’t been completely honest in our friendship. I respect you deeply and couldn’t hold this to my chest much longer. I have a mighty strong crush on you.
Is crush the right word? Does a crush make you dislike your friends stallion-friends? Because that’s how I felt. It took me an awful long time to understand just what it was that I disliked about ‘em. Turns out it was me! I didn’t think any of those stallions were treating you right. I thought I could do better.
Which is why I’m writing this letter. I know you probably don’t feel the same. I just wanted to give you the opportunity to say yes. Feel free to think on it.
Take Care,
Applejack
Today was a spa day. Rarity decided she needed it so she made it happen. She deserved it after sending that letter off. It would probably be delivered by the middle of the day, such was speed with which the post office delivered local mail. That wasn’t something she had to worry about though. Right now she was only concerned with having a pleasant conversation with her good friend and certified Spa Buddy Fluttershy.
“Fluttershy, I need your advice.”
“Sure thing. What for?”
“There’s this pony I know. I know them very well. We’ve been friends for quite some time and I think I’ve come to really, really fancy them. What do I do?
“You have to confess.”
“I sent a letter. Does that count?”
“I’d think so. Guess you’ve just got to wait for a reply then.”
“Yeah, yeah. Patience is a virtue. Tell me, dear, how did it go over when you told Rainbow?”
“It went… Really well. I just said it, you know, and she said the same thing back. There wasn’t any hesitation. It was like she had been wanting me to tell her as much as I had been wanting her to say something to me. Make sense?”
“Mhmm. I suppose I’ll just have to hope for the same luck then.”
“Oh, I don’t think it’s luck. I think fate is involved.
“Right. Here’s to fate, then.”
Rarity sank into the bath, closing the conversation for now. She closed her eyes and focused on the hot steam instead of anything else. Instead of her mail. The letter writing process was entirely out of her mind. No thoughts about the smell of ink and the drag of quill against parchment. Nope.
To the distant observer it might appear Applejack was talking to a tree. It wasn’t necessarily uncommon, just unusual. Anyone within earshot would be aware that wasn’t the case, however.
“Dude, just do it.”
“I did!”
“Then what are you talking to me for? Not like I can make the mail fly any faster. Last time I tried that ponies got mad at me for ‘taking the magic out of letter writing.’ Whatever the hay that means.”
“I’m talkin’ to you because you’re my close friend and I need somepony to talk to. I need somethin’ to keep my mind off all this.”
“Okay, okay. So I’m running distraction duty. I’m so good at that. Do you know how good I am at distracting ponies from doing something? I’m probably one of the best. I distract myself practically every day.”
“Really? I hadn’t been able to tell.”
“Come on, don’t lie. Can you even lie? Whatever. You know I’m great at not doing anything. You’ve told me how great I am at it like, a million times now at least. You wanna know the secret to not doing something? Doing something else.”
“Rainbow. That’s what I’ve been trying to do since I came to visit. Do you not get that?”
“No no I totally get whatever you’re talking about. I was just talking about something else. Like you could spend your time worrying about something that’s completely out of your control like a chump ooooor you could watch me smoke you in a hoof race.”
Rainbow Dash descended from her lofty perch in the tree steadily, setting down on the soft earth next to Applejack.
“What?! There is no way that’s happening!”
“Okay, fine, you don’t have to watch. Just put a blindfold on and we can get started.”
“Just tell me what were racin’ to and I’ll make you eat those words.”
“You see that tree aaaaaaall the way over there? That’s what we’re aiming for. And I’ll be happy to eat my words so long as you meet me at the finish line with a side of fries.”
No letter. Rarity had spent the entire day with Fluttershy and she didn’t have a reply. What was she going to do now? Sit? Wait? DIE? She wasn’t having any of it. None of it. She was going to march to Applejacks door and demand an answer! Rarity was bustling, full of nervous energy. It was the only way she was able to cross the threshold of her boutique into the temperate Ponyville evenings. At least the trot there would be nice.
“You didn’t get any mail today, why?”
“I’m just expectin somethin,’ is all. You sure you didn’t see anything?”
“Honest, Applejack. Is somethin’ the matter?”
“Nothin’s the matter Apple Bloom. I’m just lettin’ myself get worked up about the post is all. Did you finish your chores for today?”
“Yea. Did you finish yours?”
Had she? Apple Bloom had a habit of asking the difficult questions. Deciding that it was against her best interests to stay and answer that question, Applejack went to go seek an answer from Rarity herself.
Town square was dark. The grass was covered in a layer of evening dew, the cool air offering faint memories of ground trodden by hooves just a few hours ago. As it was, there couldn’t have been a more perfect locale for a confession of mutual affection years in the making. Some would describe it as “picturesque,” others as “storybook.” Applejack and Rarity would describe the moment as a “catastrophe.”
Applejack and Rarity had never been this close in their lives. Physically, perhaps, but certainly not emotionally. For once in the long span of their friendship were they singularly united in the pursuit of a common goal: each other.
“I didn’t--”
“I should’ve--”
“We could’ve--”
“We would’ve--”
“You first, dear.”
“I can’t. You first.”
“Very well. Applejack, would you be my special somepony?”
“Rarity, I thought you’d never ask. Of course I would!”
To call the display of affection that followed afterwards a hug would be giving far too much credit to hugs. This was an embrace of the tenderest sorts, two hearts uniting as one in the realm of physicality. This was, perhaps, the most incredible hug ever.
