Coping

by fourths

Rating: teen
Tags: Dark, Narcotics, Sad, Equestria Girls, Sunset Shimmer, Main 7 (EqG), Twilight Sparkle (EqG), Slice of Life
Length: 33845

Sunset Shimmer has been acting sort of strange recently—enough that Twilight Sparkle has started to notice. And even though the rest of the girls doubt anything’s wrong, Twilight is determined to find out what’s up.

Sunset Shimmer has been acting sort of strange recently—enough that Twilight Sparkle has started to notice. And even though the rest of the girls don’t really think anything’s wrong, Twilight is determined to find out what’s up.

Artwork by ZettaiDullahan.
Blur – “Coping”

Published 2017-06-24 17:10:11 UTC
Last updated 2019-08-07 03:06:44 UTC

Too Tired to Shine

The first bell rang, signalling that there were five minutes until class was to begin. The door to the bathroom swung open, and a pair of boots squeaked as they skidded across the tile floor. A few seconds passed and her feet moved quickly; within another few heartbeats, she had already slid into an open stall and shut and locked the door.

She moved quickly to sit on the seat of the toilet, raising her legs and causing the denim to rub uncomfortably against her skin. She ignored the fabric’s pinch, and the beat of her heart against her shallow breaths. Her arms moved around to her backpack—shoved back and up to the tank of the toilet—and up to the zipper pouch on the front. Fingers fumbling at the zipper, she finally snaked around the loop and pulled it open—careful to move slowly to keep quiet. Her fingers moved further inside and closed in on the plastic cap of a bottle, and she pulled it out of the bag in one deft motion.

Hands shaking, she barely even glanced at the label as she pushed down on the child-proof lid and turned. She looked down as she let the small blue tablets slide into her left hand, first in a small stream and then one by one as she mentally counted them up. Ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen… that was about enough. Clenching the contents in her fist, she used her other hand to awkwardly screw the cap back on the bottle and she shoved it back into the pouch.

Letting out a breath, she opened her hand again and picked up one of the tablets. One by one, she put them in her mouth and dry-swallowed them as quickly as she could, barely even letting the bitterness linger at the roof of her mouth before moving onto the next. By the last one, she was letting out little coughs—but nothing major, nothing particularly out of the ordinary. Once they were all gone, she sat there for a moment in silence, swallowing in her dry, empty mouth.

And then the second bell rang. Outside, she could hear the sounds of students shuffling by, of doors opening and closing, of people talking to their friends and having lives.

And inside the stall, Sunset Shimmer let her legs fall loosely to the floor. A shiver tingled down her spine and though she knew that at first the feeling was just a placebo, that there was no way it had already kicked in… she leaned back, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath.

“Have any of you seen Sunset today?” Twilight Sparkle asked. She was sitting with her new friends in the cafeteria of Canterlot High, for it was lunchtime; most of the tables around them were filled with groups of students, chatting, eating, and working on homework. Twilight herself was unpacking her lunchbag, pulling out a water bottle and setting it to the side.

“We did,” came the reply, from Rarity. She nudged her head to the side a bit, gesturing towards Fluttershy. “She was in AP Comp first period. Only showed up just as the bell rang, though, so we didn’t get a chance to talk.”

Fluttershy finished taking a sip from her juicebox and set it down. “She looked tired,” she added.

“Sunset always looks tired,” Rainbow Dash remarked, rolling her eyes.

Twilight shot her a dirty glare, but turned back to Rarity. “Hum. She wasn’t in Physics… though I guess it was just a test prep session. Still…”

“Does your teacher make those optional?” Applejack inquired, looking up from her sandwich.

“Hah, as if,” Twilight replied. “But this is Sunset we’re talking about.”

“Ooh, right.” Applejack nodded. “I remember last year she skipped every Spanish class ’cept for the tests. Still got an A, too.”

Twilight shook her head. “Well, that’s one way to do it…”

“She was in P.E., though, wasn’t she?” Pinkie Pie piped up. She had been unusually quiet—and the other five girls only looked her way once she had spoken. “She wasn’t in my round of Horse, but I definitely saw her across the gym.”

“Yeah, she was busy giving Trixie the ol’ what-for,” Rainbow said, through bites of nachos. “Though she was in a big hurry to leave… think she was out of the locker room before most of the class was even out of the gym.”

“Well, that would explain why she isn’t here now,” Rarity said. “Twilight, dear, why do you ask?”

Twilight bit her lip, and looked down. “I’m just… concerned, that’s all.”

“You really think there’s somethin’ to be concerned about?” Applejack asked. “I mean, I know Sunset’s gone through a lot, but she’s a good friend and a good person. She seems to have her stuff together, ya know?”

Twilight looked up, and pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “Yeah, you’re probably right. Still… I kind of get the feeling she’s been missing more classes lately than usual.”

“Probably just going through a rough patch.” Rainbow leaned back in her chair. “I mean, hey, it’s almost midterms. You should know as well as anybody how much she likes to hit the books when she needs to.”

“Who likes to hit what-now?” came a voice from behind one side of the table, and Twilight turned… to find herself face-to-face with a red-and-yellow-haired girl, clad in a leather jacket and a flowy blue skirt to match.

“Sunset!” Pinkie exclaimed. “We were wondering where you were!”

Sunset Shimmer let out a chuckle as she leaned down between Twilight and Rarity, gently resting her hands on their shoulders. “Just looking for you girls, of course. Well, after I had to talk to Ms. Cheerilee about a missing assignment from last week. But that’s all good now.”

“Glad to hear it,” Twilight replied. She turned her head to look up at Sunset, flashing her a squarish smile.

“Going to join us, then?” Rarity asked. “We’ve got plenty of room.”

“Yeah, lemme grab a seat,” Sunset replied. She stood back up and stepped away from the table, head turning to scout out the oh-so-precious resource in the school cafeteria.

As Sunset’s attention was turned away from the group, Twilight shot Rarity a sideways glance, and a frown. Rarity’s expression was hard to read, but she nodded, closing her eyes for a moment.

And, from behind them: “Hey, you using this chair?”

Twilight Sparkle was, for lack of a better word, bored. Not Crystal Prep-bored; the material was plenty challenging enough for her, and Principal Celestia made sure to check in with her every week to make sure that Twilight was satisfied with her placement in classes. Much more than Principal Cinch had ever done for her, that’s for sure. The thought that a public school principal would put in so much more effort than the well-endowed system of a private school was not really a surprise, but it still brought a smile to Twilight’s lips all the same.

“Ahem, Ms. Sparkle?” An impatient voice cut through her thoughts, stirring Twilight’s attention back to the chalkboard up at the front of the classroom where Ms. Harshwhinny was waiting. Her arms were crossed—and so was she, by the looks of it. “If you’re going to raise your hand, can you please make sure you have the answer?”

Twilight blinked, turning her head to see her outstretched arm beside her—apparently having leapt up of its own accord. Sheepishly, she lowered it. “Erm, what was the question, again?”

Ms. Harshwhinny grimaced, and then her eyes surveyed the rest of the students. “Lightning Dust?”

The brash green girl gave an answer, but Twilight had already zoned out again. Her thoughts wandered back to Sunset Shimmer… not that that was difficult, these days. Despite what the girls had said, that there probably wasn’t anything to worry about, Twilight wasn’t convinced. Sunset’s behaviour in the last few weeks had definitely been stranger than usual; the girl had always been jumpy, sure, but Twilight was finding her even antsier than herself. And the look of sheer exhaustion on Sunset’s face was something else entirely. Twilight’s eyes watched idly as Ms. Harshwhinny scratched numbers and letters onto the board, outlining the due date for their next assignment. Only a few days away, too; AP Comp was a cruel, unforgiving mistress. Sighing, she wrote it down in her planner and, at the sound of the bell, shoved her books into her backpack and stood up with the rest of the students.

The next class, AP Spanish, passed in a blur. Twilight’s brain clicked into Spanish mode and she spent almost the entire class working with Pinkie Pie on a dialogue, though they ran out of time to actually present it during that class period—so it would have to wait until the next day. The pair were as quick to leave the class as they had arrived, speedwalking through the halls during the passing period in an effort to reach their AP Euro class all the way on the other side of the building. On the way there, Rarity joined them, sliding quietly out of the home-ec room.

“Rarity!” Pinkie called as she saw the purple-haired girl ahead of them in the hallway.

“Hello, Pinkie,” Rarity greeted, turning towards them. “How was l’espagnol?”

“Très chic!” Pinkie exclaimed, grinning widely. Twilight just rolled her eyes.

“It was fine, we just worked on a dialogue,” Twilight explained. “How’s the dressmaking?”

“Good, good…” Rarity replied. “I had to help Mr. Toity with a bit of a… problem student in his advanced home-ec class, but I was able to make significant progress on this latest design. I still have a couple weeks until the Governor’s Show, anyway, so I’m still in good time.”

“Glad to hear it,” Twilight said, nodding. Pinkie started saying something else to Rarity, but Twilight’s gaze lingered on the girls’ restroom, which they were just passing. “Erm, girls?”

“Yes?” Rarity leaned her head back to look past Pinkie’s floofy hair.

“I’m, uh, going to use the bathroom,” Twilight said, pointing to the open door. “Catch you in class?”

Rarity and Pinkie shared a look, and then both looked back to Twilight with knowing smiles. “Proud of you, Twilight,” Rarity said.

“Do you think this is her first time?” Pinkie asked, eyes wide.

“Wh-what?” Twilight asked, flustered. “I-I’m just using the bathroom.”

“Oh, come on, Twilight, we know you’re cutting class,” Rarity assured her, putting a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about it; we’ll tell Yearling you went home sick. They don’t call your parents until the fourth or fifth infraction, anyways.”

Twilight gulped, and nodded. “Th-thanks, girls.” She stood stock-still for a moment, watching as Pinkie and Rarity ambled away into the crowd down the hallway. Taking a deep breath, she turned away and stepped out of the throng, into the open door of the bathroom.

The first thing she noticed was the loud buzz of the lights above as they shone eerily down into every nook and cranny of the room. The second thing she noticed was Sunset Shimmer.

Her leather-jacket-clad friend was standing with her back perched over one of the sinks, hands tightly clasping the ceramic white edges. She didn’t seem to notice as Twilight stepped in, her gaze too focused on her own reflection in the mirror. Heart beating heavily in her chest, Twilight slowly took a few steps to the side, trying to get a look at Sunset’s face. As it came into view, she noticed the deep purplish bags under the girl’s eyes had grown—and, though it may have just been the light, her yellow complexion was looking particularly jaundiced. Twilight stood there a moment, studying the reflection of Sunset’s face.

Suddenly, Sunset’s eyes darted right. “Twilight,” she croaked. Her voice sounded dry and cracked, and Twilight watched as she closed her lips and seemed to swallow in her mouth. “H-how’s it going?” she managed to get out.

“Oh, um, fine,” Twilight said. Her heart was beating hard in her chest. “Just, uh, popping in to use the bathroom on my way to class.”

Sunset nodded, just as the second bell rang. “You, uh, might want to get on that. Don’t want to be late.”

Twilight nodded. “Erm, yeah. Thanks.” She turned towards one of the stalls, but then turned her head to look at Sunset. “We still on for physics studying this evening?”

Sunset blinked. “Oh, is the test tomorrow?” She coughed. “Yeah, yeah, that should be fine.” The girl turned as if to leave, but Twilight cleared her throat. “Um, yeah?” Sunset asked, looking over her shoulder.

“I was wondering… my parents are having guests over for dinner, so maybe we could do it at your apartment?” Twilight shifted nervously, wringing her hands together.

A deep breath. “You’re sure we can’t just keep out of their way?” Sunset asked.

“Y-Yeah,” Twilight stammered. “They kinda asked me as a favour… if I could go over to your place instead.”

Sunset nodded. “Okay, yeah. I’ll text you the address. See you at four, then?”

“See you then,” Twilight said, turning towards an open stall.

As she stepped in and closed the door behind her, she could hear Sunset’s boots squeak on the ground as the other girl sped out of the room. Soon, as the hustle and bustle of the students settled as the last stragglers made their way to their classrooms, Twilight Sparkle was left alone, standing in the bathroom stall in silence.

Author's Note

Try Not to Breathe

The halls lay eerily silent—and empty, too, but for one glasses-clad girl with her hair up in a neat bun walking slowly, sneakers lightly tapping on the tiles of the floor as she went along. She kept looking around both in front and behind her, over her shoulder, looking to make sure that nobody else was walking her way. She had little to worry about, though; the few students she did see were too focused on their lockers or rushing to class to pay her any notice. Still, she couldn’t help but be cautious; she wasn’t used to doing something like this, even if it was for an... ostensibly good reason.

Rounding another corner, Twilight Sparkle could see a familiar light-purple door coming into sight. Even though she wasn’t particularly attuned to the nuances of colour theory, the door had stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the beige, grey, and green that made up most of the high school’s interior. She smirked as she thought of what Rarity would say—or perhaps what Rarity had said, as Twilight recalled the girl mentioning a class or two she had taken in the room.

Once she reached the door, Twilight clasped a purple hand around the handle—but then, giving it a moment more thought, she leaned her head close to the glass of the window on the door, peeking around the blinds as best she could. Although she couldn’t see much, she was able to spy a row of chairs at the back wall of the room. Empty chairs. Raising an eyebrow, she tried the door handle. It pushed down, but an experimental pull didn’t make it budge at all. Biting her lip, Twilight waited a moment—and then knocked lightly on the glass.

She could hear a chair creaking inside, and then the sound of loafers on wood. Then, the door swung open in front of her. “Yes?” a voice creaked—a voice belonging to a decrepit man who stood nearly a head taller than Twilight, seeming to tower over her as she stood at the door. Afraid to look up, she instead became well-acquainted with his tweed jacket and deep violet tie.

“Ms. Sparkle, my eyes are up here,” he droned, and with that Twilight’s gaze snapped upwards to meet him straight in the eyes. He didn’t look irritated—rather, bored.

“Um… hello, Mr. Donkey,” Twilight managed to get out, hoping she’d gotten the teacher’s name right. She could almost see her face reflected back at her in the shiny black surface of his toupee.

He sighed. “Please, Cranky will do.”

“Er, Cranky then.” Twilight gulped. “H-How are you doing?”

The teacher squinted. “Ms. Sparkle, I’m happy to help with whatever you need me for—as long as you cut to the chase and stop wasting both of our time.” He said this sternly, impatiently—but with no particular sort of malice.

“Um… I wanted to ask about one of my friends, if that’s alright.” Twilight hoped he couldn’t hear the nervousness in her voice.

Cranky laughed. “Yes, I figured. I know I haven’t had you in any of my classes, Ms. Sparkle, but I’ve gotten to know a few of your friends quite well over the years. Quite the dramatic troupe you’ve stumbled into, hmm?”

“Something like that,” Twilight replied, eyes shifting to the side. In more ways than one…

“Come into the classroom.” He stepped back and gestured with his arm. “I need to sit down, anyway… spending so much time on my feet isn’t good for an old fart like me.”

Twilight followed Cranky inside, watching as he took a seat at the desk in the front of the classroom. Not quite sure where she was expected to go, she stepped in and took a seat at a chair in the front of the classroom. Not that she had many options; the room was almost completely bare but for a circle of chairs that lined the edge of the room. There weren’t even desks attached to any of them; the only flat surfaces in the room were Cranky’s desk and a table on the back wall. The wood floor of the room was scuffed and scratched, with very evident marks where the feet of the chairs had been scraped across its surface.

“So, Ms. Sparkle, what exactly did you want to ask about?” Cranky was now sitting at his desk, looking across the stacks of papers to where she sat.

“Erm, it’s about Sunset,” Twilight replied meekly.

“Ah, Sunset Shimmer.” Cranky nodded. “One of my favourite students, although she did have a tendency to cut class. I remember the administration trying to address that little issue with her… though I’m not sure it made much of a difference. Still, it was a joy having her in our productions the last couple of years. Great actor.”

“A-and this term?” Twilight asked, even though she could already tell what the answer was.

“Oh, Ms. Shimmer didn’t enroll for a drama class this spring,” Cranky replied, leaning back in his seat. “I’m a bit disappointed, but it’s not uncommon; students usually have certain graduation requirements they need to fill near the end of their time here, and my classes don’t always fit into the schedule.” He sighed. “Though, I’m a little surprised you didn’t know that… I’d have thought you girls would know all about each other’s schedules.”

“Oh, heh…” Twilight shrugged, flashing him a half-hearted smile. “I must have just gotten confused with last term.”

“I see,” Cranky said, though his expression remained hard to read. “So, is that all? You probably have a class you should be getting to, no?” He looked up at the clock, studying its hands for a moment before looking back down to the girl with that same bored look he’d had when he first opened the door.

“Er, right.” Twilight swiftly stood up, looping her backpack back around her shoulder. “Thanks for talking to me.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry about it,” Cranky said, waving a hand after her. Twilight let the door close on its own behind her, clicking softly into place just as her shoes tapped out onto the hall tile.

And, even more than before, the hall was empty. Twilight started walking—slowly, to mask the sound of her footsteps. She made her way north, toward the front hall. As she passed a water fountain, she noticed a green-haired girl in a brown sweater who she’d never seen before, curled up with a sullen expression beside a trash can. Even though the student didn’t even seem to react to her presence… Twilight couldn’t help but nervously shuffle past, not stopping or looking back until she had pushed open one of the school’s exterior doors and slid her way outside.

The warm rays of the afternoon sun embraced her, and for a moment she forgot that she was even supposed to be in class. She stepped forward on the concrete, moving quickly past the front of the school and over to the parking lot. And then, seeing a familiar face, she froze. Almost instinctively, Twilight ducked down behind a bush.

Sunset Shimmer was standing at a sidewalk corner across the street, seemingly waiting for cars to pass so she could cross. As there was finally an opening, Sunset crossed and rounded the corner, walking out of sight. Twilight stood up and took a deep breath before brushing herself off and starting to walk towards the far side of the parking lot.

Twilight followed closely behind for half a dozen blocks—close enough that she could still keep watch on Sunset, but far enough that she would generally be out of sight if the girl looked back. And look back she did; her friend seemed inexplicably antsy, gaze not focused in any one direction for long. A few times, Twilight had to quickly duck behind a bush or a building to keep from being seen. Still, it was not a difficult walk, all things considered. And once Sunset Shimmer had made it to her destination, it got even easier, since there was nobody to duck away from—but Twilight stood stock still at the street corner as she watched the other girl step into the red sliding doors of the building.

“CVS?” Twilight murmured to herself. “Why would she...?” Then she heard a honk to her side—and shaking herself to attention, she realised she had stepped into the middle of the crosswalk and then just stopped there. “Sorry!” she called to the irritated-looking driver of the car, and she hurriedly shimmied across the street.

As she approached the side of the building, Twilight could see in the windows of the store—and she caught a glimpse of Sunset’s fiery hair as the girl made her way from the entrance to the aisles. Twilight looked back and forth to make sure nobody was watching her, and then she ducked into the bushes that flanked the siding. Peeking up through the window, she noted that Sunset seemed to be making a beeline for one aisle in particular—although from that angle, Twilight couldn’t quite make out the sign above it.

So, heart pounding hard in her chest, she waited. Sunset went out of view for a few minutes—or at least that’s what Twilight phone said, as she checked it over and over. It felt like hours, though, and Twilight let out a breath she didn’t even know she’d been holding when she saw Sunset re-emerge from the other end of the store, walking over to the registers. She couldn’t quite see what the girl had put down on the counter, but it was a couple items—and as the cashier, an older woman, scanned them one by one, she could see Sunset tapping her foot on the ground nervously.

Once the items had been scanned and Sunset had forked over a few bills, Twilight watched as she scooped the items up and threw them into her backpack. She ducked down as Sunset turned back towards the front of the store, and listened as the doors slid open to let the girl through. She heard a few footsteps, and then… Sunset stopped. Twilight gulped, closing her eyes tightly, bracing for impact—but nothing came. She just heard a rustling of paper and then the sound of boots on concrete carried on, quieter and quieter until it was masked completely by the cars whooshing by.

Cautiously, Twilight stood up and leaned her head to the side, just in time to see Sunset rounding a corner. Perfect. Shuffling out of the bushes, Twilight brushed herself off once she was out on the sidewalk. And once she was standing there, she could see what the rustling had been: a scrap of paper lay at the top of a trash can right outside the sliding doors of the store. She tried her best to nonchalantly amble over to get a closer look, but the scuffling of feet nearby made her stop in her tracks.

She turned to see a jacket-clad passerby walking down the sidewalk towards her, shooting her an odd look. All Twilight could do was grin sheepishly and wait for the stranger to move along, which they did after a few uncomfortable moments of staring. As soon as they rounded the corner, she moved quickly before anyone else could walk by; she snaked her hand around behind her, and caught the piece of paper between her fingertips, watching the passing cars the whole time. Humming to herself, she jammed the paper into her pocket and started walking in the other direction, hoping that nobody was watching her but now feeling too anxious to actually look.

Twilight didn’t slow her brisk pace until she was back at Canterlot High. She wasn’t quite sure why she had walked back there—and was asking herself this as she paced around by the parking lot—but she didn’t exactly have anywhere else to go for the time being. It was only 3:15, as her phone kept reminding her, and she wasn’t supposed to be at Sunset’s until four. And though she was sure her friend wouldn’t mind if she showed a little early, she didn’t want to catch her off-guard.

Plus, Sunset still hadn’t texted Twilight her address. Which was why she kept checking her phone.

With a sigh, Twilight finally stopped pacing, stepping over to a bench to sit down. And, as she sat, she heard the paper in her pocket crinkle once more—and she realised she’d forgotten all about it. She pulled it out and impulsively started to flatten it out with her thumb. Then, her eyes settled on the middle, where it listed the items purchased. And there were just two.

Twilight Sparkle raised an eyebrow. Not because what she was seeing was unbelievable or out of the ordinary—because it wasn’t. It was something completely reasonable to buy, something anyone would buy if they needed it. Sure, maybe it was more than necessary, but… maybe she was stocking up?

But the more she stared at the receipt, the less happy she was with that explanation. There had to be something behind it; there was no way Sunset would cut class and leave school early just to go buy this unless she were pretty sick. And she definitely hadn’t seemed so at lunch. Frowning, Twilight opened up the web browser on her phone and did a quick Google search.

As she thumbed down the page, her expression grew more troubled. One link in particular made her so uncomfortable she immediately scrolled past it, and flipped to the next page. But as she glanced through the next set of links—her mind dwelled on the description for that webpage, and her curiosity got the best of her. She clicked back and, taking a breath, tapped on the link. The browser went white as it loaded the page, and—

“Hey, Twilight!”

The lavender girl nearly fell off the bench with how much she jumped, startled by the exclamation. She quickly shoved the phone and receipt in her pocket as she looked over her shoulder.

“O-oh!” Twilight gasped as she saw Rarity and Pinkie Pie walking down the sidewalk towards her. “Hi, girls!” She could feel herself automatically standing up. “How was class?”

“Pretty freaking boring without you there!” Pinkie grinned.

Rarity rolled her eyes. “Pinkie does have a point, though. You do have a habit of muttering corrections under your breath from time to time.”

“More like all the time!” Pinkie retorted. Twilight’s cheeks grew red, but if either of them noticed, they didn’t show it. “So, how was your game of hooky? Did you win?”

Twilight smiled, sheepishly. “Er… maybe?” She shrugged.

“I am curious, though,” Rarity interjected. “Why are you still, ah, on campus? I thought you’d just be going home?”

“Eheh… well…” Twilight scratched the back of her head. “Let’s just say I finished pretty quickly, and I came back to wait since I’m going to Sunset’s to study later, and… what are you snickering at, Pinkie?”

Rarity just sighed, and bopped her giggly pink friend with a rolled-up notebook. “I’m sure her mind is just in the gutter again.”

“No,” Pinkie said, wiping away a tear. “I was just thinking about how short Napoleon was!”

“O… kay.” Twilight looked back to Rarity. “Speaking of Napoleon… did I miss anything big in class? Any new projects?”

“Nothing that’s not on the syllabus, and nothing that I’m sure you don’t already know,” Rarity replied. “But we can go over it at lunch tomorrow if you like.”

“That sounds great—thank you, Rarity.” Twilight pulled her phone out of her pocket, and glanced at the screen. She had a text from Sunset Shimmer—and it was 3:45pm.

“Oh, shoot!” Twilight swore. “Sunset just sent me her address—but I’m supposed to meet her in 15 minutes and it’s going to take me at least a half-hour to walk there!”

Rarity tilted her head. “Need a ride? I was just going to drop Pinkie at the diner before I went home, but I can swing by Sunset’s too.”

“You sure?” Twilight asked. “I don’t want to impose…”

“Oh, heavens no, darling. It would be no trouble.” Rarity paused. “Plus I’ve always been curious to see where that girl lives.”

“Well, alright.” Twilight held up the phone, showing the text with Sunset’s address.

“Ooh, that’s not far from the diner!” Pinkie said. “You girls could come down for some milkshakes if you need to take a break…!”

“Maybe we will,” Twilight mused. “Maybe we will…”

“Huh.” Rarity gazed out the windshield at the building to their right. “It’s…”

“Not much to look at?” Twilight offered.

“I was going to say ‘kind of a dump’,” Rarity said flatly. “But that works.”

“I’m sure it’s… homely?” Twilight shrugged. “Like, in the British sense.”

“Uh-huh. Well, have fun.” Rarity hummed, watching as Twilight unbuckled her seatbelt. “Say, are you two an item?”

Twilight froze, letting go of the seatbelt. “Wh-what?”

“You know, are you dating?” There was a twinkle in Rarity’s eye.

“N-no! Not at all,” Twilight managed to get out, though her jaw felt nearly immovable. She swallowed. “What even gives you that idea?”

Rarity just tapped her temple with a finger. “Ladylike intuition, darling. But I believe you.” She sighed. “I just with one of us would hurry up and start dating, just so I can fawn over their relationship! It’s been so looooong…”

Twilight just laughed—though it was a bit of a hollow laugh—and opened the door. “You’re such a romantic, Rarity,” she said as she stepped out onto the curb. “Thanks for the ride.”

“Anytime!” Rarity smiled. “Now, go on! I didn’t drive you all this way for you to be fashionably late!”

Twilight glanced at her phone. It was 3:56.

“See you tomorrow,” she said, closing the door. And, with a wave through the window, Rarity drove off in her old white sedan—leaving Twilight standing there by herself at the curb.

The lavender girl looked back to the apartment building. It wasn’t that bad, and definitely not a dump. Just a little worn down. It would have looked a little out of place in Twilight and Rarity’s neighbourhood, sure—but not everyone had the luxury of living on the nicer side of town. Especially not if they were an interdimensional transplant. As she walked through the entrance of the building, unconsciously noting the dinginess of the tile floor and the cobwebs in the corners by the ceiling, she wondered how Sunset could afford the place, let alone get her renter’s application approved. How long had Sunset been living here? She made a mental note to ask her friend about it as she reached the dimly-lit first landing of the stairs, and then she kept walking upwards, upwards…

...until she reached the door with a large “4” above it. She checked her phone again to make sure that it was the right floor—and to see that it was 3:59—and then stowed it away, opening the door and stepping into the hall. It was no better lit than the stairwell, and Twilight tried not to think about what the low lighting was trying to hide. She just kept walking, looking at the numbers of the apartments until she came across the one that matched Sunset’s text: 419.

It was a fairly unassuming door, just like all the others. Twilight knocked. And as she did so, she could immediately feel her anxiety spike.

She could hear some scrambling inside. “Oh fuck!” came out muffled through the door, though Twilight could immediately tell it was Sunset. “Uh, just a second!” came Sunset’s voice again, this time louder. More shuffling. A minute ticked by. Then another. Twilight’s heart pounded hard in her chest as she waited.

Then, suddenly, the door swung open. In front of her stood Sunset Shimmer—but a far cry from the Sunset she’d seen at school. Gone was the leather jacket and jeans, and instead she wore the same purple pajamas that she’d worn at any of their sleepovers. And her hair was much messier, too, to the point where it almost looked deliberate.

“Oh, Twilight!” Sunset exclaimed, looking a little surprised. She opened her arms, and pulled Twilight into a tight hug. “How are you doing? No trouble finding the place?”

Twilight gasped for air. “S-Sunset, a little lighter…?”

“Ooh, sorry.” Sunset let go, stepping back. “I, uh, kinda-sorta forgot you were coming, heh.”

Twilight rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I kinda figured that out a minute ago. But you’re still up for it…?”

“Yeah!” Sunset smiled, sweetly. A little too sweetly. Twilight blinked. Maybe she was reading too far into things… “How ’bout we set up at the table here in the main room? I just need to get a few things together in my bedroom, but I’ll be right back.”

“Sure!” Twilight said, stepping past Sunset into the room. She watched as the girl closed the door before taking off down a small hall; once Sunset was out of the room, Twilight walked over to the table by the window and took a seat in the corner so she could face the room.

While the main room of the apartment wasn’t quite clean, it didn’t look that unpleasant a place to live. The room itself was fairly featureless, with naked beige walls and a dated-looking light fixture on the ceiling, which wasn’t on. Instead, the light there was came from the smallish window behind her and an orangey light over the kitchen sink. The floor was carpeted—at least until you hit the linoleum of the kitchen—and honestly not that pleasant a carpet; there were off-colour patches in places, probably from spilt liquids, and it looked as if settled deep within it there was a level of dust and dirt that couldn’t be stripped away short of replacing the carpet.

But it was clearly liveable. Although the walls were bare, Sunset had done a few things to make the place look unmistakably hers. The wall to Twilight’s left was taken up mostly by a beat-up mint green sofa, the type of thing that looked lived-in to a fault but only because it looked so comfortable. She could easily imagine Sunset lying there with a book, or on her phone. And by the door there was a hat rack, though instead of hats it held a surprising number of leather jackets. Twilight chuckled; she hadn’t realised Sunset had more than just the one, but there were definitely at least five identical jackets on the rack.

It was then that Sunset reappeared from the hall, twirling a lock of hair in her fingers. She saw Twilight’s stare, and followed it to the hat rack before looking back with a smirk. “Never figured out the jackets, did you?”

“Nope,” Twilight replied. She watched as Sunset pulled out the chair opposite her, and sat down with an unceremonious thunk. Now that she was in the light, Twilight could see that Sunset’s face was flushed—and, once more, the bags under her eyes. As Sunset pulled a notebook out of her backpack and set it on the table, Twilight thought she could see her friend’s façade fall just for a second, a moment of uncertain weariness. But as soon as it appeared, it was gone.

“Yeah, people seem to think I keep wearing the same one every day.” Sunset laughed, looking back up at Twilight. “But I’m not that much of a slob. Rarity noticed almost right away, though.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, ’cause she’s all into making clothes and stuff,” Sunset explained. “I guess it’s easier to see the details in something like that when you’re super into it, kinda like I am with music.” She paused. “Or like you are with, uh, every subject in school.”

“Hey!” Twilight crossed her arms in a mock pout. “I am not.”

Sunset raised an eyebrow. “You’re really going to tell me you’re not really into, oh, I don’t know, history, and physics, and writing, and calculus?”

Twilight laughed nervously. “I, uh… I’m not that great at cooking?”

Sunset rolled her eyes. “That’s an elective, doofus. I think my point stands.”

“I guess…” Twilight sighed. “So, uh, physics?”

“Right, right.” Sunset opened up the notebook before her, thumbing through the pages. “What’s this test on, again?”

Twilight scoffed. “You really shouldn’t have skipped class if you’re not paying attention! Ms. Sherry’s review today was really quite good, and—”

“Hey now, there’s no need to get all on my case about it.” Sunset was now frowning. “I just… had some shit come up. No need to relitigate the past or whatever, it’s behind us.”

Twilight pursed her lips. “Alright,” she said softly. “Well. Then… uh, do you have your textbook?”

“Mhmm,” Sunset hummed, reaching down to pull the hefty volume out from her backpack. “I remember we were doing something on… uh… waves? And sound? Is that right?”

“Oh, good, you’ve actually been paying some attention in class,” Twilight said with a giggle. “Then yeah, open up to chapter 13…”

She started giving a basic outline of what the main points of the unit had been, making sure to take note of what Sunset seemed to nod along with and what she looked bewilderingly confused about. Then, she pointed out where in the textbook the relevant explanations for the stuff Sunset needed to brush up on was, and watched as her friend copied down definitions and equations into her notebook, filling in blank pages.

Twilight smiled, softly. These review sessions had always been for Sunset, really. Despite all of Twilight’s worrying, she knew deep down that she’d ace the test easily; it was Sunset she was more worried about. So she just used them as an excuse to hang out with her friend. Although Twilight had already been attending Canterlot High for a few months now, and settled into her new friend group… she still hadn’t found good ways to hang out with the other girls individually, outside of school. But with Sunset, they quickly found these review sessions—which connected Twilight with this girl who was quite bright, if not studious in the same way, and they complemented each other. Hmmm…

“Do you have a bathroom I can use?” Twilight asked suddenly. Sunset looked up from her page, her face oddly blank.

“Oh, uh, yeah. Just down the hall, to the left. Not the right, or else you’ll end up in my closet.” She looked back down, finishing a sentence in her uneven scrawl.

Twilight stood up, pushing her chair back in before she walked across the room and turned the corner, down the hall. It was even darker there than in the main room, and there wasn’t even a light on the ceiling that she could turn on even if she wanted to. To her right, as Sunset had mentioned, there was a closet, with those distinctive wooden shutter doors. And at the end of the hall was a white door, presumably leading to Sunset’s bedroom. But Twilight turned to the left, closing the bathroom door behind her with a click.

Back in the main room, Sunset Shimmer was flipping through pages. She settled on one with a diagram of a sine wave, and she squinted, trying to make out the blurry numbers. Her lungs felt like lead as she took a deep breath, pushing it out with some effort. As she scribbled the numbers down, the tip of her pencil looked a lot thicker than usual—and she kept looking up to make sure she got the right ones. “This was a mistake,” she muttered to herself. A mistake… missed take. You miss all the shots you don’t take. Urgh.

Her stomach in teraflops, her mouth was parched. She stood up to get a glass of water, and could feel her knees shake as she footed her way to the kitchen. Her hands felt numb, and she knew she was moving too slow, but so what? There was no one around to see her, and…

Oh, but Twilight. Wait.

Sunset turned her head rightways, down the hall, and could see a crack of light on the edge of her bedroom door. Hum. She slid down the flat hallway, toes tapping carpet in the dark, until she got right up to the door and looked through its openness which definitely had not been like that before.

Oh.

Oh, no. No.

“Twilight…” Sunset breathed, looking across the room to the desk where Twilight had lit a lamp, where Twilight was crouched on the floor, where Twilight was holding a small glossy cardboard box that fit neatly in her hand, with a little red rectangle on the front. A box from the pile... the pile that was spread all over the floor between her desk and bed—

Twilight looked up at her with those large, beautiful, deep purple eyes. “Sunset, I…” She looked distraught.

Well, of course she was distraught! Dumbass! Quick, quick… “It’s… it’s not what it looks like.”

Twilight frowned, and maybe it was just the light but she looked on the verge of tears. “Are you… like, right now…?” Obviously uncomfortable with even the question—let alone the answer—she left the rest unsaid. But it didn’t need to be said, and Sunset’s momentary silence confirmed as much.

“Why… why are you in my room.” That’s all Sunset was able to come up with, and she said it so flatly it didn’t even sound like a question. Twilight dropped the box she was holding and stood up, brushing herself off.

“I’m… I’m sorry, Sunset. I was just… I don’t know, concerned, and—”

Sunset closed her eyes, and took a breath. She wasn’t sure if she was wobbling, but she felt like it. “Twilight, I think you should go.”

“Wh-what?” Twilight blinked. “But—physics—test—studying—you’re on drugs! I can’t—”

“Twilight!” Sunset repeated, a little louder than she intended. Her friend’s face paled. “Please!” She could feel tears streaming down her hot, hot, flush red cheeks, but she couldn’t do anything about that. She still hadn’t gotten that drink of water. Putting her hand over her face, she stepped aside.

But instead of leaving the room as Sunset intended, Twilight just stepped up to the door frame and started to wrap her arms around the girl.

Immediately, Sunset recoiled, stepping back into her bedroom. “No! Get the fuck away from me!” She choked on her words. Twilight looked like she’d seen a ghost. “N-no, wait, I’m sorry—” Sunset started to stammer, but it was too late. The lavender girl had already swept herself out of the hallway, and by the sound of it, she’d thrown her shit in her backpack as fast as possible and run out the door, slamming it behind her.

Just like that, Sunset was alone. Just like she’d asked for.

And she hated it.

Author's Note

Ballad of Big Nothing

Twilight Sparkle could taste bile in her throat.

Or at least that’s how she would describe the ugly, burning sensation within her to an onlooker if she’d had to; it was a phrase she remembered reading in novels for when a character was in a situation like this. But the more she thought about it, she realised that it had to be in her mouth she was tasting it—for you couldn’t taste things in your throat. Writers, she lamented.

Of course, she wouldn’t even be thinking about this at all but it was much better than the alternative—facing what had just happened. Which she knew she’d have to do sooner or later, but while standing—shivering—in the cold by the parking lot outside Sunset’s apartment complex wasn’t exactly the right time or place.

Twilight bit her lip. She didn’t know what to do, though. She didn’t want to call her parents, who she’d been planning on picking her up. But she knew that if her mom or dad came by then and there, she’d break down, and tell them all about it, and they’d probably never let her see Sunset Shimmer ever again. Or, worse, they’d demand to go in there. She shuddered—and not just because of the cold.

Without thinking, Twilight had been walking southwards along the block, and she came across a bus stop which, thankfully, was empty. She could take the bus… but the idea freaked her out a little. It’s not that she was afraid to do something like that on her own (which she wasn’t—she was in high school, that would be ridiculous) but more that she didn’t know where she would go. Home? Her brother’s? The library? She didn’t know any of the bus routes, either, though she could probably figure them out…

But instead she kept walking. Or, rather, at least from how she saw it, her feet carried her forward, down the block, across the street, to the next block. There was something a little freeing to the motion. It just felt like the right way to go, and she was just following that whim—something Twilight was honestly quite unaccustomed to doing.

Half a dozen blocks later, she realised where she had been walking. Across the street was a distinctive diner, one she’d been by once or twice before—including earlier that afternoon, when Rarity had dropped Pinkie Pie off for work. “Sweet Snacks Café” read the sign above the building, and it grew closer as Twilight approached from the crosswalk. From the sidewalk, she glanced through the window—but the place looked fairly empty. A bit odd, since it was—she checked her phone—five o’clock, just in time for an early dinner.

Shrugging, Twilight stepped up to the door and pushed it open—or she would have, had it budged. Grumbling, she looked down to see the embossed metal “PULL” on the handle, and, with a sigh, she did just that.

Immediately she was met with a rush of warm air from inside the diner, and she was glad to feel the door close behind her, sealing the cold out. She let out a final shiver as she looked around the diner’s interior.

It was decked out to look like the ’50s, or at least what she thought the ’50s looked like from movies her parents had made her watch when she was younger. In the centre, the countertop and stools flanked the kitchen; across the aisle, there was a row of electric blue vinyl booths. A jukebox at the opposite end of the room was plugged into the diner’s stereo system, cracking away at an upbeat, jaunty little number.

“Helloooo!” called a familiar chipper voice. “Feel free to take a seat at the counter or an open booth, and I will be right with youuuuu!”

Twilight laughed—a short, dry laugh, but a laugh all the same. It was funny… Pinkie Pie could always make her laugh. No matter how sad she felt, no matter how hurt, or broken, or depressed she was, Pinkie could always find something to smile about. It was admirable.

Stepping out of the way of the entrance, Twilight walked over to the corner booth over by the jukebox. She’d never been much a fan of the counter—she preferred to have her own space—and she always enjoyed the view the corner afforded. When she got to the booth, she took her backpack off, sliding it down the bench before sitting down next to it. Laying her hands out on the table, Twilight Sparkle closed her eyes, and breathed easy.

“Oh, hey, Twilight!” Pinkie’s voice called, rapidly approaching. Twilight opened her eyes to see a blur of poofy pink hair speed towards her on roller skates. “Fancy seeing you again, mmm?”

Twilight laughed once more. “Love the dress,” she quipped—though really, the pale blue thing looked great on her friend. Pinkie looked right at home working there at the diner. “How’s business?”

“Eh, a bit slow.” Pinkie looked around, brow furrowed, before looking back to her friend at the booth. “But that’s no excuse for me to be! Hee hee! Can I get you anything?”

“Oh, um…” Twilight bit her lip. “What… would you recommend?”

Pinkie put her hand to her chin, nodding slowly. “Well, I could getcha the classic milkshake,” she finally said. “Unless you want, like, some actual food.”

Twilight, despite herself, mock-gasped. “You don’t consider a milkshake ‘actual food’? Who are you and what have you done with Pinkie?”

Pinkie just winked. “Come on, Twilight, I’m trying to be profressional.” She did a twirl on her roller skates. “But for realsies, milkshake or no?”

“Yeah, that sounds nice,” Twilight replied. “Chocolate, if you’ve got it.”

Pinkie gave her a lighthearted scoff. “But the vanilla’s waaaay better!”

Twilight just shrugged. “‘The customer is always right’? Isn’t that what they always say?”

“If you insist!” In another blink of an eye, she sped away—leaving Twilight sitting there alone at the booth once more. The song on the jukebox had changed to one that sounded a little more modern and electronic, but still with that retro style. Though it was a fairly slow ballad, its melody was no less infectious than the last—and Twilight could feel herself humming along after only a few seconds. She glanced over to the jukebox, leaning out of her seat on the booth so she could make out the name… but to no avail, as the song’s name card was written in an illegible cursive scrawl.

Sighing, Twilight scooted back into the booth, but her eyes stuck to that wall behind her. Above the jukebox, adorning the space from head-height to ceiling were old vinyl records from a day gone by, nailed up by their centre hole. She could catch a few of the names of these, but none she recognised. Music, sadly, had never been a major interest of hers… but she could listen to Sunset go on and on about it when the girl got excited about some song or band. She wondered whether Sunset would have recognised any of these artists, would have maybe had some anecdote to tell about the first time she heard about them or how they were somehow connected to a plethora of other musicians.

Groaning, Twilight flopped her face onto the table. She didn’t want to think about Sunset, not now. She tried to focus on the thought of Pinkie skating back and forth between customers and the kitchen, twirling around and never losing her balance—but the girl’s thoughts kept coming back to Sunset. To what had just happened. And to what Sunset could possibly be doing at that moment.

“Helloooo? Earth to Twilight Sparkle?” The girl in question could hear a clink of a glass on the table by her head, and she looked up. Pinkie’s smile was warm as ever—though perhaps a little less in-her-face. “Oh, there you are! For a second, I thought we lost you… on the dark side of the moooon…!”

Twilight rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I’m here. Thanks, Pinkie.” She looked down to the milkshake on the table, which had a beautiful dollop of whipped cream on top and one of those red-and-white striped straws, just like in the movies. It was picture-perfect. “This looks really good.”

Pinkie just smiled wider. “Anything for a friend!” Then, suddenly as she stood there, the pink girl began to jitter. Not flailing her limbs or anything, but just a subtle vibration—kind of like a phone. “Oh, goodness, who could that be…?” she mused aloud as she reached into her dress pocket. Twilight watched Pinkie’s expression transform rapidly, from curiosity to excitement to… lips pursed? Concerned?

“Oh, hum…” Pinkie rested her chin on a hand, tapping her cheek with her fingers for a few moments as she gazed off into space. Then, she looked down to Twilight.

“What’s up?” Twilight asked. Milkshake in hand, the purple girl had already taken a couple sips.

“Well,” Pinkie started, “um, after school, I kinda-maybe-sorta told AJ and Dashie that they could come by the diner after soccer practice and I’d treat them to dinner and we could just hang out… and I sorta-kinda-maybe forgot aaaall about that until right now.” She flashed Twilight a sheepish grin. “But don’t worry!” she continued, seeing the uncertainty in Twilight’s expression. “I could say I’m too busy, and we can reschedule!”

Twilight took another sip of her milkshake, and then used the straw to plop a stray blob of whipped cream in her mouth. “No, no, that’s fine.” She paused. “So long as I’m not, like, a bother or anything?”

Pinkie’s eyes lit up. “Oh not at all! I just know they’ll love to see you here! Ooh, and I can leave it a surprise!” Her thumbs were quickly a blur, tapping frantically at the phone and trying to keep up with whatever Pinkie was thinking. “Aaaalright! Well then! I will be back in a jiffy, I’ve just got a couple orders to fill.” She started to skate off, slowly gliding across the floor. “They’ll be here in like five minutes, okay? Just call ’em over and ask about how soccer went.”

“Will do, Pinkie,” Twilight replied, smiling weakly.

“And remember that they don’t use touchdowns!” she heard the girl call, even after she was out of sight. Twilight just rolled her eyes, and took another sip.

...She’d have to make a mental note of that one, though.

“Hi AJ! Hi Dashie!”

The two girls had only stepped through the front door of the diner just moments before, and already they were greeted by the chipper voice of Pinkie Pie. “Hey, Pinkie!” Rainbow Dash said, grinning as she watched the apron-clad girl skate by. “How’re you doing?”

“Pretty swell!” Pinkie smiled. “I’ve got a little more work stuff, but then I’ll be right with you, m’kay?”

“Sounds good to me,” Applejack said.

“But don’t make it too long,” Rainbow added. “I’m dying of hunger.”

Even from the other side of the diner, Twilight Sparkle could see Applejack rolling her eyes. “I’m sure you’ll survive another few minutes so Pinkie can keep doin’ her job.” The girl turned to the right, only just then noticing her friend at the far table. “Oh, hey Twilight!”

“Twilight’s here?” Rainbow asked with interest. Twilight waved, and her friends started to walk up.

“Hey, girls,” Twilight said, trying to settle into something normal. She was still feeling anxious over what happened earlier... but hopefully this would help her take her mind off it. “How was soccer practice?”

“Pretty good,” Rainbow said, sliding into the seat across the table. “Or at least it woulda been if AJ weren’t such a cheating jerk!”

Applejack just rolled her eyes once more and, even though she had just sat down next to Rainbow Dash at the booth, she stood back up and slid onto the bench next to Twilight. “Apologies for Dash, she just ain’t used to gettin’ beat fair and square, so she’s a bit of a sore loser.”

Rainbow just frowned, crossing her arms. “I saw what you—”

“Rainbow!” Applejack cut her off, raising her voice. “We already spent the whole ride over talkin’ ’bout this, you ain’t gotta keep goin’ off about it!”

“Fiiiine,” Rainbow groaned, flopping her face down onto the table. “But I swear, next practice you are going to get it.”

Twilight, who was sipping away at her milkshake, smiled. “I didn’t realise you were on the soccer team, Applejack.”

“Well, I wasn’t, not until a couple weeks ago. Not until Rainbow needled me into it.” Applejack leaned her face on her hand. “And I’m not, like, on the team yet or anything. Just been doin’ practice and the like while the coach figures out whether I should stick to the JV team or what.”

Rainbow chuckled. “You’re probably gonna make onto varsity, if I’m being honest.”

Applejack raised an eyebrow. “I thought you said I was a cheatin’ varmint?”

Rainbow shrugged. “I mean, yeah. But even if you’re cheating, you’re a whole lot better than the rest of the team. Seriously, I carry like half the weight!”

“Uh-huh.” Applejack turned to Twilight. “So, what’re you doin’ ’round here? I thought you lived out east, with all the fancy-schmancy big houses.”

Twilight gulped. “I, uh, had an appointment in the area and decided to stop by and say hi to Pinkie before I went home.”

Applejack gave a knowing nod. “Ah, yeah, I can’t blame ya. She does make a damned good milkshake.”

“Speaking of whiiiiich!” called out their friend’s excited voice, approaching at high velocity. There was a loud clink as Pinkie Pie set two glasses down on either side of the table simultaneously, one for Rainbow Dash and one for Applejack. “Damned good milkshakes for the lot of ya!”

Rainbow Dash rolled her eyes. “What are you, British?”

“What she means is thank you, Pinkie Pie,” Applejack retorted, glaring daggers across the table. “Seriously, Rainbow, what’s gotten into you?”

“Mmmf.” Rainbow glanced out the window, into the darkness. “Probably just hungry.”

“Well, that’s something I can fix!” Pinkie Pie interjected, seemingly unfazed by the exchange. “Can I getcha anything?”

Rainbow didn’t look up from the window. “A burger and fries.” She paused. “Please.”

“Comin’ right up!” Pinkie Pie sped away.

Twilight held her breath, sliding further into the corner. She looked from Applejack’s frown to Rainbow’s blank expression. She couldn’t help but let out a quiet sigh, but if either of her friends heard her, they didn’t acknowledge it. She didn’t like to see her friends argue, but at least it was better than dwelling on...

Shuddering, Twilight took another sip of her milkshake. Applejack followed suit, leaning back into the bench. And Rainbow finally looked back towards them, picked up her milkshake, and gave it an unceremonious sip.

“Pretty good,” she remarked.

Applejack just chuckled. “Only pretty good? That girl’s milkshakes are always somethin’ special.”

“Take what you can get, farmer girl.” Rainbow took another sip before setting the glass on the table. “Ugh, I’m sorry. Really, I’m just in a bad mood.”

“Ain’t no thing, sugarcube,” Applejack assured her. “I know you’re stressed ’n’ stuff, but ya really don’t gotta take it out on me.”

“Yeah...” Rainbow let out a dreary sigh. “If only there were some way to relax...”

Twilight could tell her friend was hinting at something, but she wasn’t sure what. Applejack, for her part, just stared at Rainbow Dash. “On a school night?”

Rainbow laughed. “Why not?

Applejack moved her milkshake around with her straw, and then shrugged. “I’m not so sure that’s a good idea...”

“Why not?” Rainbow leaned across the table, stretching her arms out towards Applejack and making what Twilight assumed was her best effort at a puppy-dog face. “You know you want to...”

“What are you girls even talking about?” Twilight finally asked. Her two friends suddenly both looked at her bewildered expression.

“Knowing these two, probably just hotboxing in the barn attic!” came Pinkie’s voice from behind them, and all three of them watched as the pink girl sped up, plate held up high. As she reached the booth, she slowed to a stop, and set the plate down by Rainbow Dash’s head—which was still on the table. Rainbow’s eyes had settled on the burger on top, staring hungrily.

“Thanks, Pinkie.”

“Of course! And scoot over!” Pinkie was already sitting down next to Rainbow Dash, pushing the other girl into the corner of the booth. “So what’s up?”

Applejack shrugged. “I dunno. Practice was good. I’m not sure if the coach likes me, though.”

“Eh, she wasn’t that much of a dick to you,” Rainbow said between bites. “She’s just more of the tough love type.”

“Mmm.” Applejack sipped her milkshake.

Suddenly, Pinkie turned to Twilight. “Yo, what’s up, sugar booger?”

Twilight, who had been deep in thought, shook to attention. “Hm? Oh, sorry, I just was confused. What’s... hotboxing?”

Applejack snorted; Rainbow Dash burst into laughter. Pinkie Pie just smiled, a hint of amusement in her eyes.

“What?” Twilight asked, defensively. “Is this some weird sex thing?”

“Ha, no,” Rainbow said, wiping away a tear as she stopped laughing. “Outta the sex, drugs, and rock ’n’ roll, this goes squarely in numero dos.”

Applejack rolled her eyes. “Y’ain’t need to be all silly about it. Me an’ Dash are just gonna—”

“Get really high?” Pinkie Pie cut in.

“Hell yeah!” Rainbow said with a smirk and a nod. “I just got an eighth from Flutters’ cousin, and she says it’s the real good stuff.”

Applejack facepalmed. “She always says it’s the real good stuff, ya durn stoner.”

“Yeah but I have a good feeling about this one.” Rainbow waggled her eyebrows.

“Uh-huh.”

Twilight bit the inside of her cheek. “So wait, let me get this straight... you guys, uh, smoke cannabis?”

Rainbow let out another guffaw. “Of course you would call it that.” Even the silent-’til-now Pinkie Pie couldn’t help but let out a snicker, and Twilight bit further into her cheek.

Applejack, though, seeing Twilight recoil, let out a sigh. “Oh, don’t beat up on the girl, it ain’t her fault she’s a bit... sheltered.” She turned. “Yeah, Twilight, we do. And if that’s a surprise or makes ya uncomfortable, I’m real sorry for that and we don’t have to talk about it anymore if ya don’t want.”

Pinkie quickly composed herself. “Yeah, I’m really sorry for bringing it up.”

Twilight Sparkle gulped. “Erm... y-yeah, I think I’d prefer that. Sorry.”

“Meh, no big deal,” Rainbow said. She was already chomping down on the last bite of her burger, having swiftly demolished the thing. “Plenty of other fish in the sea to talk about.”

“That... I don’t think that’s how the saying goes,” Applejack remarked.

“Like hell it doesn’t!” Rainbow wiped her mouth with her sleeve. “So! About that lit paper...”

As Rainbow Dash launched a barrage of questions at Applejack (with occasional chiming in from Pinkie Pie, who was also in their World Lit class), Twilight Sparkle let herself zone out. She didn’t stare out the window, nor did she dwell on the events of earlier that evening. She just finished off her milkshake and... for the first time that day, she chilled. Although she wasn’t actively engaged in the conversation or anything, just the company felt nice.

It wasn’t ’til nearly an hour later that Twilight thought to check the time. She pulled her phone out of her pocket, and—

“Oh, crap!” Then: “Ah, pardon my language.”

Rainbow snickered of course. Rolling her eyes, Applejack asked, “What’s up?”

“I gotta call my parents about a ride home!” Twilight explained. “Dad was gonna pick me up from—er...”

“I can wait with you!” Pinkie offered. “I don’t live that far from here, and I was just gonna skate anyway.”

“Oh, yeah, we should probably head out too,” Applejack said, after a glance at her own phone. “’Specially if Dash here wants to...” She paused. “...come over ’n’ hang out.”

“You know I do, babe,” Rainbow Dash shot back in a dumb, husky croon—earning laughs all around, even from Twilight. Rainbow coughed, her face red. “Er, um, yeah. Yup. Let’s skedaddle.”

The four girls slid out from the booth and stood up. Pinkie Pie, of course, quickly hugged both Rainbow Dash and Applejack—and Twilight for good measure—bidding them goodbye as she skated across the diner to bring their glasses and Rainbow’s plate back to the kitchen.

“We’ll see ya tomorrow, Twilight,” Rainbow said, patting her friend on the shoulder. “You’ll be at lunch, right?”

“Yeah, should be,” Twilight said. “Hope you two have a good night.”

“So do I,” Applejack countered, exhaling sharply, hand on her hips. “Seeya, Twi.”

And with that, the pair walked off and out the double doors of the diner, leaving Twilight once more alone by the booth. She took this opportunity to call her dad, and, upon receiving confirmation that he could come pick her up at the diner, she thanked him and stowed her phone away back in her pocket.

...But for only a moment. It felt like only seconds later that Pinkie Pie reappeared and rolled up, no longer wearing her apron but still on roller skates, of course. “D’ja call your parents?”

“Yeah, my dad should be here in like fifteen minutes,” Twilight replied. “You sure you want to wait with me? Really, I’ll be fine...”

“Nah, I’m happy to keep you company!” Pinkie said cheerily. “You wanna sit down, ooooor...?”

“Yeah, sure.” Twilight led the way, stepping over to an empty booth right by the door with a clear view of the street in front. “I gave Dad the address, but I’ll need to keep an eye out to see if I need to flag him down.”

“Hee hee,” Pinkie giggled. “Is he bad at directions?”

“A little bit.” Twilight paused. “Or a lot, if you ask my mom. But he’s not that bad.”

“Mmm,” Pinkie hummed. A short silence fell between them. Twilight thought Pinkie looked oddly uncomfortable, like she wanted to say something but for some reason was holding off.

So Twilight Sparkle asked a question of her own. Even if she didn’t really want to... it was eating at her.

“Say, Pinkie...”

“Hmm?” Pinkie tilted her head. “Yeeees?”

“Not to go back to our conversation earlier, but... uh...” Twilight grimaced.

Thankfully, Pinkie seemed to get the message, smiling softly. “Oh, yeah, I guess I kinda figured you might ask about that. No, I don’t smoke weed.”

Twilight blinked. “Really? W-wait, no, I don’t mean to imply—”

Pinkie giggled. “No, no, it’s fine. Yeah... I don’t. Not that I haven’t tried it,” she added, “once or twice, a couple years ago. But it’s just not really my thing, y’know?”

“Er... I don’t,” Twilight replied, scratching the back of her head sheepishly.

“Oh yeah. Heh. I dunno. Like, I’m wacky and stuff, but I got even more jumbledy and kinda paranoid.”

Twilight just shrugged. “Good to know... I guess.”

Pinkie’s lips were pursed. “Any reason in particular why you’re asking? I guess I am a little surprised that you’re coming back to it even though it was making you uncomfortable before...”

“Well...” Twilight hesitated. “It kinda still is... but really, I wouldn’t have brought it up again if I couldn’t handle it,” she said, adding the last part at a flash of worry on Pinkie Pie’s features. “I just... I dunno. Curiosity kills the cat.”

Pinkie rolled her eyes. “Silly Twilight, that isn’t true! Opal’s been suuuper curious, and she’s still alive!”

“Opal?” Twilight said, confused. “Is that a cat?”

“Oooh, yeah. Opalescence is Rarity’s cat,” Pinkie explained. “I forgot that you don’t know her yet! I’ll hafta drag you over for a meet ’n’ greet.”

Twilight nodded slowly, and then felt the buzz of her phone in her pocket. She glanced out the window. “Oh, my dad’s here. Thanks again, Pinkie. For the milkshake, and letting me hang out with you guys, and—”

Pinkie blew a raspberry, cutting her off. “Sillier and sillier! You don’t need to thank me, I just like to do nice things for my friends! Now c’mon, let’s get outta here.” The pink girl leapt up from the bench, rolled over to the doors, and thrust both of them open in front of her.

Laughing, Twilight Sparkle stood up and followed her outside.

It’s going to be okay. It’s going to be okay. You can fix this. I know you can fix this you just have to talk to her, you just have to say sorry, you can—

But she knows, oh she knows, oh Celestia what if she tells somepo—body, but... what can we do about that now? The air pulls into your lungs, inflates them, you’re full of the world until have to let go, rinse and repeat, etc.

A weight pulls down like ice on a rickety roof and you feel prone to collapse. It’s night-time.

What time is it? It’s ten thirty. Sunset Shimmer rolls over in bed, stretches her arm out, moves it from side to side and watches the blur wash away the icky icky wrongness. She’s got to move, she can’t stay still; to stay still is to succumb. She sits up, throws blankets aside, and starts to shiver standing. Socks... where are the socks? Her feet clumsily work their way through the carpet and first to the dresser, though of course they’re not in the dresser, they’re under the bed. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why can’t you ever put away your laundry the day it gets done, when it’s so freshly warm you want to wrap it into a ball and hold it in your arms and pretend it’s companionship and love and affection and you really fucked it up with Twilight, didn’t you? Lost the plot and paid the price—make sure to file away that phrase for a song or something, lol. Where’s a pen? Sunset Shimmer steps over to where she assumes her desk is.

Lost the plot and paid the price. Lost the plot and paid the price. Lots the pot and paid the p—thirsty. Water? Did Sunset Shimmer get water? You can’t remember. Her mouth is so dry, cottonmouth, tongue big and desiccated—tessellated, succor—in her mouth. Mouth.

Something something paid the price. Something—okay, now Sunset Shimmer is reaching around in her desk drawer, looking for a pen. Paid the—oh, no, it’s gone. Not even worth trying to remember. Sunset Shimmer lets out a sigh and closes the desk drawer. Whatever.

But as her hand moves over the desktop (ha ha get it, not computer but actual top of the desk, aren’t we so hilarious), her fingers brush her phone. Her phone! She’s got to apologise to Twilight.

Twilight Spa—lost the plot and paid the price! Aha! She reaches back in the desk for a pen, and—lost the plot and p—shit, what was it again? Ugh, this isn’t worth it at all...

Her phone. Sunset Shimmer picks up our phone and even through the daze the light of the screen is almost sobering, drawing up the dregs of herself like moths to a flame. Contacts, Twilight Sparkle, tap tap tap tap tap. The last thing she sent you was a photo of some piece of homework but the letters are too blurry right now so whatever. Sunset Shimmer tap-tippety-taps out an apology: Hey Twilight, I’m really sorry about earlier, I’m probably not going to be at school tomorrow but maybe we can talk after school?

Of course she doesn’t want to talk after school but there’s no other real way out of it, no way to hand wave—Twilight will know what Twilight saw. Oh, the irony. Sweet motherbuckin’ irony. Don’t think about it too much and press send. Toss the phone back onto the bed—er, it was on the desk, but whatever—and then shuffle further into the carpet. It’s water time, baby. And then maybe some songs before bed.

Something like that.

Author's Note

Worried Now

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

Twilight Sparkle groaned, reaching an arm out to slam off the alarm clock beside her. Without a thought, she grabbed the edge of her comforter and pulled it up closer to her neck, letting out a deep breath. A minute passed.

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

“Dang it!” Twilight squeaked, her hand snapping out again from under the covers to thwack the device. In an instant, the purple girl bolted upright and let out a long sigh before throwing her legs off the side of the bed to the floor. As she stood up, Twilight’s hand wandered across her bedside table, shutting off the alarm and picking up her glasses. Her lips curved as the blurred smudge of a world in front of her came into focus. She stretched out her arms above her head for a moment.

“Mmmmffff,” she mumbled, tilting her neck. “Okay, let’s see...” She looked around, spotting her phone on the nightstand which she picked up and woke up with a button. There was a little notification that indicated she had a text, but before she could read who it was from or what it was, her thumb was already at work swiping and tapping to unlock the device. Her eyes scanned the screen, catching a familiar name in bold at the top, having sent her the most recent message.

“Sunset,” she murmured. Twilight tapped the name, and it was replaced with the message Sunset had sent her.

Hey twilghihr, im trslly sorryu avour ear;oer,im porvagly nor hoinh to;obe at shcppl tomoeoq maubw we can tlsk afrwe shool'

Twilight blinked, and shook her head—but when her eyes focused back on the screen, the message still read the same. No, that was exactly what Sunset Shimmer had texted her, warts and all. Well, it wasn’t quite accurate to call them warts when the whole thing was... how it was. Twilight took a deep breath, and closed her eyes.

She did more after I left.

Twilight didn’t know that for a fact, of course, but it was pretty obvious from... whatever that message was supposed to be. She put a hand to her temple, and tried to just breathe. To stay calm.

What am I going to do with her?

She stood there in silence for a moment, before suddenly remembering what time it was and what she was supposed to be doing. Grumbling, she flicked off the phone screen and slid the device into the pocket of her pajamas. Then, she opened her bedroom door, stepping out in the hall in the noble pursuit of Breakfast.

Twilight’s sneakers squeaked on the hallway floor as she ran. Oh, she wasn’t supposed to run—she remembered every time she’d seen other students reprimanded for the same thing—but the halls were almost empty, and she was running late. Even just thinking those two words was almost enough to make her stop and shudder, but she had no time for that; she just had to move. All would be fine—so long as she just kept going. She hoped.

Ducking past a bewildered student, she rounded a corner and, past the rows of lockers and a few stranded stragglers, the door to Twilight’s physics class came into plain view—and it was open! Cheerilee always shut the door at the beginning of class, right before taking attendance, so she had just enough time to get in before—

The door started to close. Twilight gulped but kept going; she had to get into class, she couldn’t be late. And it looked like she was about to make it too. And that’s when she smacked face-first into the window on the door with an unceremonious thud.

Seeing stars, Twilight stepped back, cradling her head with a hand. A moment passed and the door swung back open, and behind it was exactly who Twilight had wanted to see.

“Oh, Twilight! I am so sorry!” Rarity said, her eyes fraught with worry. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Twilight said, though she winced. “Don’t worry about it.”

Rarity did not look convinced, but she stepped aside to let Twilight walk into the classroom. Most of the students weren’t paying much attention yet—class hadn’t started, so many were on their phones, but Cheerilee at the front raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, Twilight, thank goodness,” the teacher said quickly, looking down at the attendance sheet on her clipboard. “Let me just mark you down as present...”

Twilight couldn’t help but laugh. She’d never been late at Canterlot High—nor Crystal Prep—and it felt kind of... weird to her that a teacher would help artificially preserve that. Still, she wasn’t complaining. She just shuffled past the eyes of her classmates—all on her, she was sure, though she couldn’t bear to look up at them—and settled into her chair on the right side of the room, right next to Rarity’s. As Twilight pulled her things from her backpack, Cheerilee up at the front marked something on her attendance sheet and set it back down on her desk, looking up to the class as she did so.

“Alright, so, with that taken care of... would someone like to volunteer to read the beginning of this chapter? How about you, Lily?”

“Ugh, okay. ‘Beep, beep, beep...’”

As their classmate began to read out loud, Twilight glanced over towards Rarity—who luckily was already looking her way, so she didn’t need to get her attention. But on her face, her friend wore the strangest expression. “Soooo...?”

Twilight blinked. “Erm... so...? Huh?”

“How did it go last night, with Sunset? I notice you’re late to class, and you are never late.”

Twilight grimaced, and at this Rarity’s face fell. “Maybe we can talk about that later. I still need to think about what exactly... happened.” Rarity perked up again, but let Twilight go on. “I did mean to ask, though... um, you said that Flash Sentry and Sunset used to date, right?”

Rarity blinked, and a grin started to creep onto her face. “Why but of course, darling, they were the talk of the whole school for months! Canterlot High’s cutest hunk dating... well, the queen bee!”

Twilight snorted. “Well, do you know where I might find him? I kinda wanted to talk to him about something.”

At this point Rarity’s grin was ear to ear. “Twilight... are you going to ask his advice on dating Sunset Shimmer?”

“What? No!” Twilight said, a little too loudly which earned her some looks—though, weirdly, Cheerilee turned a blind eye. “I mean... no, no, not that at all. Seriously, Rarity, I told you we’re not a thing.”

Rarity pursed her lips. “Alright, darling, but if you ever are... you know I just must be the first one to know.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Rarity smirked. “Delightful. As for Flash... most days you can find him at the skate park during lunch period. He, um, goes over there to smoke.”

Twilight blinked; this had caught her off guard. “Really?”

“Mmm, yes. Means I must be cautious when I go talk to him—don’t want to get that stench in any of my good linens, you know how it is.”

“Riiiight.” Twilight looked nonplussed. “Well, thanks.”

Rarity sighed. “Guess we shan’t be seeing you at lunch, then?”

Twilight Sparkle just smiled, sheepishly, as she finally turned to the book in front of her and, as she usually did, started paying attention in class.

Canterlot High had an open campus—meaning that when students weren’t in class, they could leave and return as they liked. But as Twilight Sparkle walked through the warm, unrelenting rays of the noonday sun, she was reminded of why she never took advantage of it; outside sucked. Not that she was completely opposed to the concept on its own, but as summer was approaching... a shut-in nerd like her wasn’t all that used to it, and with her pants and long-sleeved shirt she wasn’t exactly dressed for the weather. She made a mental note to reorganise her closet, soon; surely, her friends would want to be hanging out outside more, and she didn’t want to be melting all summer.

As she neared the far sidewalk, Twilight also noticed that very few of her fellow students seemed to be taking advantage of the nice weather. A few people she recognised had been standing around and chatting near the door, but as she stood waiting for the cars to stop at the crosswalk she couldn’t help but notice that nobody was walking around on the sidewalk near her, and in the distance she could only see a few people dotting the parking lot, standing by their cars. All of this left her mind as she crossed the street, however; her destination was in sight.

Twilight had never been to the skate park, only seen it from afar the few times she’d visited that neighbouring playground as a child. It looked somewhat out of place there—a weird, old relic of a decade or two ago, sticking out like a sore thumb next to the recently-renovated school and the more modern homes with clean-cut lawns that lined the opposite side of the street. As she crossed and grew closer, Twilight could see wide swaths of tall, illegible graffiti letters hugging the curve of the concrete bowl as it dipped down into the earth.

But the one thing she couldn’t see was anybody skating. There were no whoops of joy, no wheels clacking as they rolled down the side—just the thrum of cars passing and students talking in the school behind her. Twilight’s head swerved around as she approached the side of the bowl—and, as she reached the edge, that’s when she saw him.

Flash Sentry sat cross-legged at the bottom of the basin, wearing that same stupid sports jacket he always did, and he wasn’t alone; across from him, with her legs stretched out in front of her, sat a girl with a slender frame. Her long, pastel-pink hair reached down her back all the way to the edge of her spring-green skirt. Both teenagers had cigarettes, Flash’s held between his fingers and Fluttershy’s on the concrete beneath her spidered hand. Their twin plumes of smoke rose up above, into the air.

Flash looked up in Twilight’s direction as she approached, and his eyes lit up in recognition. “Hey, Twilight!” he called, grinning. “How’s it going?”

Immediately, the girl across from him jumped, loudly meeping. Fluttershy’s head jerked around to look and her eyes grew wide upon seeing her purple friend. “T-Twilight. Um... hi.”

“Uh, hey guys,” Twilight managed to get out. Her cheeks felt hot from the sudden attention. “I’m... I’m fine, how are you?”

“Pretty good!” Flash said, cheerily. He took a drag of his cigarette, and Twilight squirmed as she watched him exhale. Fluttershy just stared at Twilight, clearly mortified. “How come you’re out here, anyway?” Flash asked. “I didn’t realise you skated!”

Twilight let out a nervous laugh. “No, I don’t. Too dangerous. Actually, I, uh, was looking for you.” Upon seeing the light blush on Flash’s face, though, she quickly added, “N-not like that! I just wanted to talk to you about something, something I had, um, questions about.”

“Heh, sure.” Flash’s smile quickly shifted to something a little more nervous. “Should I come up there, or...?”

“Alright if I come sit down there?”

“Yeah, sure thing.” Flash tapped the ground next to him.

“Be careful coming down,” Fluttershy said. “It’s kind of sli—”

“AAAH!” Twilight’s loud cry cut her off; the girl’s sneaker had slipped on the slope, sending her running down the concrete faster than she could handle. Fluttershy shrieked, scooping up her cigarette from the ground as she gracefully moved out of the way. Flash leapt up, too, but instead he moved quickly in front of Twilight, reaching his arms out and bracing himself.

THUD!

For a moment, Flash’s legs threatened to give way—but they held, and he was able to steady Twilight enough to let go within a matter of moments, before it became awkward.

As she stepped away, Twilight could hear Flash murmur under his breath, “We’ve gotta stop bumping into each other like this...” She rolled her eyes but didn’t press it, and with a shrug she sat herself down on the concrete. Flash did the same, sitting down close but not too close. But the pink-haired girl, cigarette still burning between her fingers, remained standing.

“Say, um... Twilight, you just need to talk to Flash, right?” Fluttershy asked, gazing with inquisitive eyes over to her friend. Upon Twilight’s nod, she continued: “I was thinking that maybe I’ll just leave you two to it, and I, uh, could go run an errand.”

“Sure thing, Flutters, why don’t you go do that?” Flash said, and Fluttershy’s lips curved ever so slightly into a smile.

Then, Twilight watched as her friend slipped her backpack on and nimbly climbed up the side of the bowl, soft footsteps pattering her past the faded green graffiti and out of view. “She seems... on edge.”

Flash sighed. “Yeah, she... she didn’t know how you’d react. To seeing her smoke, I mean. She’s been worried about it for ages.”

“Oh.” Twilight gritted her teeth. “Yeah, I... I didn’t know.”

“And it bothers you, yeah?” Flash phrased this like a question, but he meant it as a statement; Twilight could see from the lines of concern on his face that he could tell. “And I’m assuming you don’t like seeing me do it, either.” He sighed. “I can put this out, if it would help you feel more comfortable.”

“N-no, you don’t have to!” Twilight said quickly, as Flash had motioned to extinguish it on the concrete. “I mean, I don’t mind, just do your thing. I don’t want to interrupt.”

Flash’s eyebrow raised.

“I mean, yeah, of course it bothers me,” Twilight continued, “but that’s something I want to get better about. I have to... accept that people are going to do what they want to or have to do. And it’s not like I didn’t know what I was getting into here—Rarity told me where you were, and why.”

Flash had raised the cigarette once more to his mouth and he pulled it away, releasing another puff of smoke but carefully turning his head so it wouldn’t blow towards Twilight. “You just didn’t know that Fluttershy would be here, did you?”

Twilight gulped. “Yeah, uh, I didn’t. N-not that I have any problem with it, but... it caught me off guard, I will admit. I just want what’s best for my new friend... you know?”

Flash Sentry chuckled. “It’s funny how much like her you are.”

Twilight blinked. “Like who? Fluttershy?”

“No, the other Twilight.” He paused, tapping his chin. “Not that you aren’t different, ’cause you totally are,” he hastily added, “but that need to care for your friends, to help them, to see them through to what’s right... that fits Twilight to a T.”

Twilight Sparkle still wasn’t sure how to feel about this other Twilight—and how she knew Flash felt for the other girl. But, after a few uncomfortable moments, she was able to mumble something like, “Thanks, I guess.” Flash just nodded, and an uneasy silence settled between them. Twilight watched as the last of Flash’s cigarette burned, and then he finally crushed the butt on the ground.

“I’ll pick it up, I promise,” Flash assured her. “I always do—Fluttershy reminds me if I forget.” He paused. “So... why exactly did you come down to talk to me, anyway? Just got the urge to hang out?” he asked, snorting.

“Oh, uh...” Twilight shifted nervously. “Actually, I kinda wanted to talk about... Sunset.”

Flash’s brow rose, his eyes widening; she’d obviously caught him off guard. “Oh, yeah? What about her?”

Twilight brushed a lock of hair from her face. “Well, you two used to date, didn’t you?”

“Rarity tell you that, too?” Flash looked a little irritated, but upon seeing Twilight nervously biting her lip, his features softened. “Sorry, sorry. It’s not by any means a secret, and things are pretty okay between me and Sunset now, but... I dunno, I never really liked Rarity getting all up in my personal stuff like she has a habit of doing.”

“She just mentioned it offhandedly a while ago while me and the girls were hanging out as a group, she didn’t really—”

“Haha, no, it’s fine, really,” Flash assured her. “Why do you ask, though? Does somebody have a little crush, maybe...?”

“No!” Twilight, flustered, shot him a dirty look as Flash snickered. “This is serious. Big time.”

“Okay, okay,” Flash said, waving his hands in front of him. “Gotcha. I’ll stop messing around. Serious time.” He stretched his face muscles, and then settled into an oddly stoic look.

Twilight took a deep breath. “Thanks. Okay. Uh... hum, let’s see. When—if you don’t mind—when did you start smoking?”

If Flash was surprised by the question, he didn’t show it; he merely leaned back with his hands splayed out behind him on the concrete, holding up his relaxed frame. “God, that’s a good question... guess it woulda been around eighth grade or so? Maybe the summer right before?”

Twilight goggled. “That young?”

Flash gave her a nervous laugh, and raised a hand to scratch his head. “Yeah... looking back I wish I hadn’t, but it was kinda one of those things where all my friends were trying it out. They got me into it, and once I started I didn’t stop.”

Without thinking, Twilight went on. “Where’d you get them?”

“Eh, there was always a way. Bum smokes off older kids who didn’t give a shit, or one of my friends would steal from their dad or something. Most of those friends ended up going to a different high school, so it was a bit rough for a bit... but I managed here and there. Then, in the last year... Fluttershy.”

Twilight gasped. “You got her smoking?”

Flash blinked at that. “What? No, haha, but we did end up kinda becoming friends because of it over the last coupla months, hanging out here and talking. She already did, though I never actually figured out where she got them from before. But then she turned 18 last month, and it got easy.”

“Oh, I see.” Twilight nodded slowly; she was still shaking a little with anxiety, but she was calming. “Wait, are you not 18, then?”

“...Couple more months.” Flash grinned, but then his smile faltered. “But, uh... what’s this gotta do with Sunset, though?”

Twilight took a deep breath. “Did... did Sunset ever smoke?” Twilight asked, the words tumbling out quickly.

“No,” Flash replied, “or at least not that I ever saw. Obviously I did around her sometimes, and sometimes it seemed like she wanted to, but that’s the one thing she never did. Never asked, either.”

A knot was forming in Twilight’s stomach. “The... one thing?”

“Yeah, uh...” Flash scratched the back of his head. “For a while there, I was doing all of the big three, and she was right there along with me. Sex, and drugs, and rock ’n’ roll. N-not anything that bad, I swear,” he added quickly, upon seeing Twilight’s mortified expression. “Just weed and beer mostly—the guys I was in a band with were all into that stuff, and then I was too. And Sunset would come to practices and stuff, so... yeah.”

Twilight nodded, slowly. “Was it, like... for a long time?”

“I mean... not really,” Flash replied. He bit his lip between sentences. “We practiced every weekend we could, and she was there for most of them, but... it was really only a few months. And me and Sunset broke up not long after that, too.”

“Hmm,” was all Twilight had to say to that, and Flash watched as the girl across from him pulled a finger through her hair, twirling it around. “Did it ever get... I dunno, out of hand?”

Flash shrugged. “I’m not really sure what you mean by that, I guess. I mean, yeah, sometimes she got a little too drunk, and I remember once having to hold her hair back as she... well, you know. But nothing really out of the ordinary.”

“Okay,” Twilight said, her expression unreadable. “Thank you, Flash,” she said, looking at him more directly. “I appreciate it.”

“Why are you asking, though?” Flash asked, looking legitimately confused. “Like... is something up? With Sunset?”

“N-no,” Twilight lied. She coughed. “Not... as such.” She let out a deep breath, and then recomposed herself. “Well... okay, no, I’m worried about her. I’m... not exactly sure what’s going to happen, not yet, but... I want to help her, and I’m just trying to work out how.”

Flash Sentry let out a long, drawn-out sigh, before his face turned into a frown. “That... that makes me pretty worried, not gonna lie. It's been a long time since Sunset and I dated, but she’s still a friend, you know? I want... I want what’s best for her.”

Before she quite knew what she was doing, Twilight reached out a hand and took Flash’s in hers. “I’m going to make sure she’s okay. I promise. I... don’t quite know everything right now, but I’m going to work to do what’s best for Sunset.”

Flash gulped, nodding slowly. “Thank you, Twilight. I... yeah, I dunno. Give her my best, okay?”

Twilight smiled. “I will.” Letting go of Flash’s hand, the purple girl stood up and brushed herself off. “I’m gonna go back to school so I’m not late for my next class, but... thank you, Flash.”

Flash’s cheeks reddened. “Ah, really, it’s no trouble. Happy to talk to you, especially since we haven’t gotten much of a chance to since you started going here. And I just want the best for Sunset, you know?”

“I-I do,” Twilight said, gulping. She looked up, forward, out of the skate park. “And I hope I can help her get there. I’ll see you around, okay?”

“See you around,” Flash said, though Twilight was already moving toward the edge of the bowl—but she looked over her shoulder to give him a nod and a smile before carefully pushing herself up on the concrete. Within a minute or two, she was out of sight.

Sunset Shimmer could taste bile in her throat.

Well, not bile exactly—she’d tasted bile, and it was much more acrid than this—but all she could think of as she lay there with her eyes shut was how off everything tasted. Lazily, she moved her tongue around—but when that didn’t seem to do anything, she let out an ugly, weary groan and opened her eyes.

The room wasn’t dark, not quite; the faint rays of light that assumedly were the sun did their best to filter through and poke around her curtains, to little avail. But even in the low light she could see where she lay—not on her bed, looking over at the window, but staring up from the carpet. That explained why her shoulder blades hurt like hell, at least, but not how this had happened; she couldn’t remember ever have woken up on the floor before, and she couldn’t remember how she ended up there this time. Though she did have some pretty good guesses.

“I swear to Celestia,” Sunset let out, though her lips were cracked and her throat was raspy. She moved her hands in front of her face just to prove she could move them at all, and she could—so she let them fall. “Uugggghhh... what am I doing...?”

The world didn’t reply, of course, so the girl just lay there for an indeterminate amount of time staring up at the ceiling. She could almost make out shapes in the spackle, but not quite... they just sat there, above, swirling around randomly like porridge.

Almost unconsciously, Sunset reached her hand out to her side, grabbing a hold of her phone. She brought the device to her face—cutting off her view of the ceiling—and clicked it on. She winced at the light as it shone right on her face, but pressed on. With a few taps, she unlocked the device, and she was staring at the last text message she’d sent.

“Oh, fuck,” Sunset murmured. “Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck...”—she glanced up at the corner of the screen, noticing that the clock read 1:13pm—“...oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck. Fuck!” The last one she yelled, and it reverberated all around the walls of her room.

Sighing, Sunset Shimmer took a deep breath. And as she lifted herself up, pulling herself to stand upright, her joints and muscles ached. Her teeth gnashed as she stood there in the almost-darkness, but somehow she willed herself to take one step... and another, and another, and another. She didn’t want to, not at all, but she had to move, and quick—for in just a few short hours, Twilight Sparkle would be there once more, and Sunset would have to have answers.

Answers she wasn’t sure she had.

Author's Note

Dancing in Heaven

The water pooled warmly around her feet but she could hardly notice as the whole world spun dizzyingly, turning into blue glass walls. It tasted like the airport, so Sunset knew it was the airport—and the thrum of busy-busy filled the air like a flick had been switched. Somehow it was like she had never left, and she nestled into her space in the shower stream and felt warm even as the cold nipped at her bones. And the girls (the girls!) were around her, sort of at least.

“I’ve been kind of wondering... well, kind of thinking about what you know I’ve always been thinking about, taking time to, well, and I guess it’s not really the sort of thing you wouldn’t really know, but then again...”

Twilight’s sparkling-grape voice was always soothing, spidering out with a wingspan wide enough to clasp around her arms and hold her securely, even as her skin crawled. Her shuddering silhouette seemed less friendly but sometimes them’s just the breaks.

“...but it takes one to know one, you know, and I guess I think that maybe, possibly, it could be the case that... well, I’m just thinking out loud, you know, but—and not to get overly into the specifics about this sort of thing—I guess I just... well...”

Somewhere unseen, Rainbow Dash laughed in some marbled synecdoche, and Twilight stopped and got all bashful like she does. Red cheeks bloodied her vision, and the water covered her feet completely by now. Sunset blinked as the airport blinked, and somewhere in the back of her head there were sensations like needlepokes all over, trying to lull her down, but she wasn’t having any of it. Applejack spoke next, in honeyed candor.

“Well, sugarcube, if you’re so focused on tryin’a do this sorta thing, I guess all I can say is that before ya look before ya leap, might as well spend a few minutes on, uh, I dunno, plannin’ out the whole thing ’n’ whatnot, just so ya got it all there...”

It was all just noise, it’s all white noise, apophenia reaching out to tangle garden paths together out of nothing. Words choke and die in her throat. She could feel blustery blue rattling around in her stomach, even long since dissolved—an ugly construct of her ugly, stupid head. Icky, sticky, she moves her hands and brushes Twilight and the rest away and the airport leaves; it doesn’t fragment, it still exists somewhere out there, but it’s gone away, she’s made it go away. Sunset Shimmer is alone just how she should be, and the water is up to her ankles because the fucking drain won’t drain—it’s called a drain, it has one job—and her brain is on strings pulling her downward like a marionette that still can fight, but for how long? The air still tastes like the airport but she can’t think about that now so she wipes away the lather and also tries not to think too much about splotches of paint and elsewise that dot the shower wall as she presses the water off and the thick cold goosebumps her flesh.

The towel is little, bitter comfort, but it’s all she has.

Of course, it’s super funny-cutesy when all you can feel is states you’ve never been to below you, and you accidentally tell someone online that you thought they were God when they showed up on the chatroom one day, and the songs sound muted and drained of colour, and when walking around it’s all stumbledy-jumbledy. Not a weight holding you down but everything’s a little more two-dimensional than usual as you try to slip the hall and it feels like a train leaving the station and it’s more like you’re phasing from place to place, now that was funny, even funny ha-ha. And it’s still funny sometimes but also it’s never enough—maybe once you go out so far into the waters, everything behind seems just like a blur with a smudge brush, or something like that. And that’s why you fucked around and found something else, didn’t you, except this way you’re really melting your head for sure, taking scissors to your wings, not even poetic like ichor—you’re just losing it.

If you make too much noise, the neighbours will hear, and they’ll find out you’re all alone, and they’ll call someone. Celestia’s spell is strong, but not that strong; it can break, and if it does it will be all your fault and you’ll be detained and they’ll ask questions and the whole thing will go to shit. Maybe you can escape and go be a horse again but you don’t want to be a horse anymore, and why would you, anyway? And how could you face her? What would you say? What would she say?

Sunset Shimmer sat with knees-locked-to-chest against the wall, on the carpeted floor. It was dark, probably outside too but definitely inside with the curtains closed with their corners taped to the walls, and dark means spiders. Not real spiders—at least not usually, though sometimes those appear too but usually she could tell them apart—but the dark distant forms quivering with no legs and all legs at once, twitching around but never able to find purchase in her sallow skin. Never the same size, never the same shape, and she knew they weren’t real, she always knew they weren’t real, but they felt like some strange trace of another world, though she could ignore them if she tried so she did and they faded into the background.

But Sunset still shivered like she always did, locked there immobile in unmatched sock and pajam. It’d be nice to say her brain moved slow like through molasses but it didn’t; it moved quick, like it always did, but some pathways were just out of reach and she was slipping and sliding on the ice forward quickly because the Zamboni followed close behind, wiping everything over again and then it was gone. Sometimes it’d leave a sliver of something she could snatch up with a closer look, but even then it was frozen and slippery and might just fall back out of reach again. Headphones pressed against her ears like they usually did and the bass notes thrummed from a black hole inside her chest, even as the song was in the wrong key and just got deeper and deeper, slower and slower, all the while at the same pitch and speed. Something noxious and hypnotic rippled through her veins, pulling her downward.

“Sunset?” she heard a familiar voice call from the front of the room. Blinking and rubbing her eyes, she looked up past the rows of desks with students’ eyeballs putting her under the microscope, and up to Miss Cheerilee. She suddenly felt very, very small, an insect in amber. “Do you have any thoughts, maybe?”

“I...” She gulped, and her throat was completely dry; the sick lull pulled at her cheeks. “Yeah. The green light... it represents the future Gatsby wishes he could have. But for him, it’s always just out of reach.”

Cheerilee beamed, though all Sunset could see was the faint lines of age teasing at the teacher’s skin, and something about her eyes seemed hollow and gone, like the window to the soul got shut. “Exactly, Sunset, thank you. As you can see...” she droned on, but Sunset’s eyes drifted from the teacher’s face and up the screech-blackboard to the corners of the room where even in the light the false spiders started to twitch out and around, blossoming out of dusty cobwebs, not the other way ’round like they’re supposed to.

Class passed and most of it Sunset’s eyes were on the clock, watching the hands tick on faster toward freedom, to the lunch hour. She was supposed to see the girls but maybe she could get out of it; they were used to her not showing up at that point, and she was used to coming up with bullshit excuses at this point. Cheerilee kept talking about the book, and the not-quite-spiders kept moving around, sometimes in sync with the cadence of her words. Sunset didn’t get called on again, but once or twice she caught a worried glance from the teacher—but she just kept sitting there with her lips pursed and her gums dry and her eyes as wide open as she could muster, which was maybe too wide but whatever. The bell rang a couple minutes before the clock hit the fifty, and Sunset slid her shit back into her bag and stood up and walked between the desks like all the other kids, and she walked up to the doorway and she hit her head.

The hit was loud and it kind of hurt but she didn’t make any noise, just rasped somewhere low in her throat. Sunset wasn’t even that tall anyway so she wasn’t sure how she could have hit the frame, if that's what she hit, but she just kept walking and if anypony noticed, well, they didn’t say anything, thank goddess. She just kept walking and tried her best to ignore the thick bramble of voices that scratched at her exposed knees, poking and prodding and trying to push her brain out of her skull, but she wouldn’t let them.

Her beeline was towards the bathroom; she just needed to sit down. Sure, she’d been sitting in class but there had been people and someone in the teenage F.B.I. would have said something for sure if she lay her head on her desk and closed her eyes, so of course her old friend the stalls was her destination where she could sit and stare at the ceiling and think about how this used to be tile factory before they turned it into a school and wonder what used to happen in this part of the building and if anyone died there.

“Hey, Sunset!” called a cheery pink voice and, oh no, Sunset turned her head to see one of her friends standing right there across the hall, voluminous pink hair falling every which way in a semi-controlled cavalcading waterfall. “D’ja have a good lit class?”

“Yeah...” Sunset croaked. “It was... lit.”

Pinkie Pie giggled her saccharine giggle—not sugary, but like that weird aftertaste from a sugar-free energy drink that lingers in all the wrong places in your throat—and Sunset felt a hand on her shoulder blade. “What a pun! But it’ll take a lot more than that to dethrone the Queen, heehee.”

Sunset just smiled, weakly, and she followed along with the light push of her friend as they traced the same path as always through the hallways to the cafeteria. Her head finally felt empty, free of noise, which was kind of fucked because it was the exact moment she needed it to not be, but she’d gotten piss-poor at the timing on these things or otherwise just didn’t care. Future Sunset’s problems were never any business of hers... it was always all about the moment. Her arms were so cold and they felt fat and big and maybe they were or maybe that was just her head fucking with her again. She never remembered to check after.

As the hall opened up into the larger room with tables, Sunset’s blackout tunnel vision narrowed and all she could see was the big round one across the way with the rainbow of girls sitting around it, unpacking their lunchboxes and clearly chatting up a storm by the looks of it. Pinkie did all the hard work steering around people moving around like ants in the dirt and soon enough they were moving into chairs and, well, Sunset was finally sitting down, so that’s something.

Still couldn’t put her head down on the table, though, or else—well, actually, maybe it’d be okay, let’s find out, oh it’s not cold but it is flat and hard against her cheekbone but that’s fine, it’s enough, she doesn’t need much. She couldn’t see any of them, either, her gaze facing away from the table into the blurry throng of people.

It took her a second to realise that everything’d gone quiet, but once she noticed it got loud again. “You okay, Sunset?”

It was Twilight who spoke, of course; it was always Twilight.

Twilight, Twilight, Twilight.

“Yeah, ’m good. Tired.” Her jaw hurt.

“Oh, yeah, I’ve barely been getting any sleep either,” Twilight went on, apparently oblivious. The rest of the group went back to their own conversations, buzzing, buzzing “I’m getting super close on this project in my independent study, and, well... when the end of something I’m working on is in sight, I basically just keep working until it gets done.” She laughed—grape sparkles—and somewhere in the back of her head or throat or stomach Sunset felt a pang of regret.

For what? What she was doing was stupid, yeah, but it was her stupid, her decision, her own fuck-up to live and own. She felt bad for Twilight, and the rest of her friends. She felt bad for what would happen if they found out, how they would feel—which was why they couldn’t find out. It didn’t matter if Sunset was hurting herself, but she couldn’t—she could fucking not—hurt her friends, not after everything they did for her, not after all the support, not after the love and the friendship and just everything. She couldn’t do that to them. She couldn’t hurt them again.

A presence got closer. “Sunset... for real, what’s up?” No, Twilight, it’s okay. It’s fine. Please, don’t. All that lies ahead is hurt. There is nothing for you here.

“I’m... I... I don’t know,” Sunset lied. The words were getting harder to produce—she was so cottonmouthed and desperate like a fish out of water. “Don’t worry about. Just... just feeling weird.”

“Okay,” Twilight said, though Sunset could tell she didn’t sound convinced, no not at all. “But if you do need anything, you know you can talk to me, right?”

Sunset gulped, at least as much as she could. “Yeah. Thanks.”

Yeah. Thanks.

Sunset could feel or at least imagine Twilight’s gaze boring holes in the back of her skull, lobotomising something essential from her being, though it probably wasn’t Twilight at all and it was just, well, you know. The table was still hard against her face.

Yeah. Thanks.

A minute passed, and another. The girls were still talking, God bless them, and Sunset’s head receded backwards into itself. Her jaw quivered, and it wasn’t ’til then that she noticed how hard her teeth had pressed together, how sore it was. She lifted a hand to lazily rub at the side of it—but as she pulled it away, she stared at her fingers. Maybe she was just seeing things—wouldn’t be the first time—but they looked nasty, swollen, inflamed. Were they always so crooked? It was like they weren’t hers; she knew all the blemishes and oddities of her own hands, and these just weren’t them.

Maybe they weren’t. Maybe none of this was. Maybe she was living someone else’s life, slipping in and fucking it all up.

She’d done it before. That’s exactly what happened when she showed up at Canterlot High. Why not again? The girls thought she’d changed—and Twilight never even knew her then—but had she, really? Wasn’t she just taking all of that anger, all of that resentment, all of that hunger to make someone hurt, and channelling it back inwards towards herself?

Sunset lifted her head, and as she tried to right it it nearly just fell back down on the table but she kept trying and finally got it almost just about right, at least good enough. Applejack was looking her way with an eyebrow raised, but nevermind that. “Sorry, girls,” Sunset choked out, and as the words started she realised she should have planned this, should have figured out what she was going to say or else maybe she’d slip and fall on the ice. “I’ve... I’ve gotta go. I’m, um. I. Bathroom. Catch you on the flipside.”

It sounded so stilted, so fake—each word a construct holding up the lie, and so transparently too. No one would believe it—no one should believe it—and they’d call her out on her bullshit and under the pressure she’d bend and break and wither away and d—

“Seeya, Sunset!” said Pinkie, from beside her, and Sunset closed her eyes with a wince and managed a toothy smile for the girl, the least she could do. In a moment, Sunset had her backpack on her back and she was up and gone and the girls kept talking and it almost felt like she was back there with them but she wasn’t and her boots squeaked on the tile and she hated how they squeaked but they wouldn’t stop squeaking. It was the type of thing she would have given someone shit for back when she was giving people shit, probably smashing some kid against a locker with a sickening rattle of the metal and she’d make her take her boots off and Sunset would take them and throw them in the dumpster behind the building just because she could.

Sunset was sick, and Sunset was stupid. There was something wrong with her. Something deeply, deeply wrong. In a stall she sat with her boots up on the seat and she closed her eyes and hallucinated cracking open a bottle of cough syrup, breaking through the plastic seal and picking at the paper one under the lid with her fingernails. She hallucinated the icky chemical red stain that often lingered on her fingertips because even though she never really saw the liquid outside the brown bottle she often got just a little on her fingers because it was unavoidable and her hand often slipped. She knew it was a hallucination the whole time this time though and when she was about to drink and gag she cracked an eye and it vanished in an instant like if the drain in her shower suddenly started to work.

And then she closed her eye again and let it happen, again, the same way, the way she’d done it a hundred times, the images burned into her retinas permanently, the repeating frames of a gif looping unto themselves. She shuddered, not from the cold that picked at her skin but the deep internal shudder that made her lurch and nearly fall over onto the floor. Somewhere above the bell rang to signal the start of the class she wasn’t going to, and the sound of the bell echoed around in her skull for minutes after, washing away the cough syrup in a sonic tide and leaving Sunset feeling even more exhausted than before.

She looked back at her hands, the ugly swollen things that probably belonged to someone else, that were grafted on when she wasn’t paying attention. She didn’t want to look at her hands but it was hard to not; she kept flicking back and forth between focusing on the detail of the skin, every pockmark, and it swimming around in disorganised diseased particulars. She just wanted to shed the sick skin, the ugly gross awful itchy everything wrong and she just needed to fall asleep, her eyelids weren’t really heavy per se but that stupid itch not on her skin but in her bones and marrow, deep into the core of her being, that she was the itch the whole world was trying to scratch, to euthanise, to put to sleep. She was the anathema. She had to go.

The temptation was there to just fall back and slip out of consciousness right there, head back on the wall and such, but she knew she’d do it too long and if she didn’t fall then someone would fucking find her and everyone—everyone—would find out and that would be it. So she didn’t and she stood up and sometime later past the ochre-dripping sun and the needlepricks of the breeze on skin she was home and rolled up in the quilt like a joint and she muddled out past the dry suck between her teeth and into something heavy, sick, violent, fictional, colourful, gone.

Gone.

So far gone. Why did she even kid herself?

So far gone that she couldn’t come back. How could she?

She was all on her own and she was so far gone that she didn’t have the words and that’s all there was.

She was gone.

Gone, fucked up, somewhere far in the back of her head, pushed around and not in control.

Why?

Why did she do this to herself?

Every time she had a choice, and every time she made the wrong one.

Every time she fucked the whole thing up.

Everything faded, bled through, sucked down into the mud like an action movie with a shaky camera to show that things aren’t really OK anymore and that it’s serious now.

She didn’t like the way the fluorescent lights felt on her skin; even though her arms were covered by the hoodie sleeves and her forehead was covered by messy bangs it still found its way between her fingers and tracing along her cheeks and jaw. She felt exposed, like every sick sallow detail could be seen by any of the other shoppers, by the rest of the neighbourhood, by the whole entire world. She couldn’t see them but it made her eyes feel even more sunken back into her skull, bags of deep purple sitting like smoke on the water—pfft.

Sunset’s boots squeaked on the confetti tile as she turned the corner into the aisle. The Aisle. The same one she always walked directly to—sometimes as fast as she could as if running away from her own conscience, at other times slowly when she was more clear-headed just in case anyone was watching and might see it as suspicious. Which they probably weren’t, and nobody would do anything even if they were, but she couldn’t help but be anxious. It always made her anxious, skin crawling not just over the current moment but in anticipation of what was to come. Sixty, seventy, eighty minutes from now when she was home and she’d swallowed and spun away the time before the chill started to set in to her bones.

Three-quarters of the way down the aisle, past the bottles of shampoo and lotion and whatever the hell else—she didn’t really pay attention anymore, now that she knew where to go she just ran on autopilot—is where she stopped. And staring her straight in the face were little cardboard boxes among a few small white plastic bottles, both with distinct pastel blue on their labels and packaging. Sleep aid. 50 mg diphenhydramine, 16 or 48 softgels or something, it was different for all of them. Those were better than the bitter little pills to swallow—especially the pink ones, the allergy-marketed ones, the generic Benadryl which going down somehow felt even worse.

Sunset reached up a hand to grab a bottle, but she stopped short at the sight of her fingers just inches away. She knew they were her fingers—they were attached to her hand, after all, and when her brain sent the signal they moved—but they looked knobby and wrong. She knew her hands, having had them her whole life, and something about the way the skin folded and hung together just looked unfamiliar. They bent in odd ways away from each other and if she didn’t know better she’d have thought she was looking at a corpse.

So, Sunset lowered her hand. She closed her eyes a moment and took a long, deep breath. Not now. Not tonight. Her fingers would come back—they always did—but she needed to give them time. She opened her eyes once more, and turned away from the shelf.

A few steps down, and Sunset crouched. Here in front of her face were several other cardboard boxes, most with orange or red on the packaging. Cough relief. Delsym? Too expensive, and though the polistirex went down smoother it just felt blah and numb. DayQuil? Not concentrated enough and too saccharine-sweet, no way she could get enough down without puking. No, the generic brand Robitussin, the “Adult Cough Relief” with no other active ingredients besides the dextromethorphan because those’ll fuck you up good and proper in ways you don’t mean. 354mg per bottle, enough to hit the second plateau.

And they were on sale, two for $5.99. A steal. She couldn’t not buy two! So she found the boxes in her hand and her feet shuffling away down the aisle and towards the self-checkout and scanning the barcodes. Oh, how she used to get something else, maybe a candy or a bar of soap or a package of Chapstick but most of the time now she didn’t unless she really needed that stuff which she didn’t. She never saw anyone she knew at the store, though maybe the cashiers recognised her and knew what she was doing, though she also didn’t know how much other people knew about this stuff. And it wasn’t illegal, anyway. Maybe she had a cold. Maybe she was just stocking up.

Ugh.

She could almost feel their weight in her purse as she crumpled up the receipt and threw it into the trash can, ridding herself of the itemised list of her sins. The walk home wasn’t that long, maybe twenty minutes, but it seemed a lot shorter because she was so used to it so her head tuned out every block, every tree, every building, and all she could think about was the bottle she’d soon be opening and the fake-cherry red liquid that’d make it even more of a blur.

The stairwell felt darker than usual, and Sunset felt uneasy; it was almost like there was a presence, just behind or ahead of her, watching her every move. She kept stopping to look back around the corner—but there never was anything there. She was happy to reach the fourth floor, and quickly shut the door behind her as she spilled out into the hall.

When she reached her hand in her purse to rummage for her keys, her fingers had to push past the cardboard boxes and just the tactile reminder sent a small wave of nausea into her stomach. But her fingers found the metal and pulled it out, the key went into the lock, and soon she was inside with the door shut and standing in the darkened apartment. The only light was the orangey one over the kitchen sink, casting odd shadows over the parts of the living room it could reach.

Sunset took a moment to take off her boots and slide out of her jacket, hanging it up on the rack with the others. Setting her purse on the kitchen counter, she stepped over to a cupboard and pulled out a glass. Or, well, a clear plastic cup. As she filled it with water from the tap, she looked and grimaced at the piles of dirty dishes in both sides of the sink basin. She’d do them... another night. When her head was clearer.

She downed the glass of water in one gulp and filled it back up, this time setting it on the counter by her purse. Yawning, Sunset reached up to one of the cabinets and pulled out a box of generic store-brand Cheez-Its which she also set on the counter. Then, her hands wandered over to the purse and slipped inside, pulling out one of the two boxes. They made short work of the outside and soon she was breaking through the plastic seal and picking at the paper one under the lid with her fingernails. She could see the icky chemical red stain that often lingered on her fingertips because even though she never really saw the liquid outside the brown bottle she often got just a little on her fingers because there was a little bit on the paper seal.

She put the seals and the small plastic measuring cup from atop the lid into the empty cardboard box. And then, pinching her nose tight, she lifted the bottle with the other hand and tipped it, swallowing as much as she could before the flavour could quite register.

It wasn’t as bad as it used to be, that’s for sure, but it was still pretty god damn gross even with her nose pinched and she tried not to think about the overwhelming sense of grossness sliding down her throat because otherwise she was gonna puke and oh Luna she shouldn’t have even thought about puking either and—okay, she stopped, she set it down, it was maybe half full still and she reached a hand over to the crackers and shoved a handful in her mouth and some water to wash it down and get the taste out of her mouth. It seemed almost designed to linger there, to make her want to evacuate it but she did her best to think about anything else. The songs she’d soon be listening to, the schoolwork she wasn’t doing, her friends somewhere out there hopefully safe and happy and having a good time.

Not too much water and it was already mostly washed away and she took the plastic bottle and took another gulp—another half of what was there, less than before. It was worse this time, and the next time when she’d washed it away again and thought she got back to normal it was even worse again, and this time she gagged and could almost feel like she was going to throw up. But she didn’t, and soon her stomach mostly settled, and the whole bottle was gone except for a thin film of liquid that swirled around the bottom when she moved it. She thought about drinking that, too, but the taste wasn’t worth what it’d do—not worth psyching herself up for the gulp.

It was all so stupid, wasn’t it? That’s what Sunset thought about, at least, as she moved her purse over to the small table in the living room, hanging it up on the ear of a chair and letting it dangle down near the floor. In an instant she could commit herself to the next several hours, just a simple decision, and no way to take it back. She didn’t used to know how to decide—found it too easy to get hung up on the possibilities, on the details, on the what-ifs—but she taught herself in the art and soon she was taking the road more fucked up.

She kept going, treading on her socks down the hall to the bedroom and stepping past the pile of boxes she really needed to take care of. On the other side of her bed, there was a pile of clothes—used, distinct from the dwindling pile of clean clothes at the far wall under the window. But it was with the dirty clothes that her pajamas were, right at the top because she’d known she was going to wear them again. As she slid out of her street clothes and into the purpley PJs, she thought her head was getting a little wobbledy... but it was hard to tell if it really was or whether it was the placebo. It was always hard to tell, to begin with at least.

And that’s why she tried to keep her mind off it. Alone at the edge of the universe humming a tune, Sunset spun between her desk and her bed, plucking up her laptop from one and moving it to the other. The dark purple comforter was messy, bed unmade, so Sunset shoved it aside to set the laptop directly down on the sheet. She sat down cross-legged in front of the device, tapping the button to wake it from sleep, and then adjusted her pillows to support her back against the wall. Once she’d moved the laptop onto her outstretched legs, she leaned over to pick up the headphones from the floor where they lay on the edge of the pile of boxes.

Sunset tried not to think about what lay beside her as she plugged the headphones in and let the “Godless” acoustic guitar strums fill both her ears, a wash of sonic colour. Her head was already maybe feeling a little loopy? maybe? ’cause when she turned her head a bit everything kinda bobbed and the guitars sounded a little waterier than usual—flanged, of course, of course. She closed her eyes and saw nothing in particular but that nothing in particular felt kind of funny and when she opened her eyes again she decided maybe she was tired of treading through this song and didn’t want to hear this album so she went and actually just put it on shuffle so she wouldn’t have to think too much about it because having a lot of things to think about was becoming kind of weird and untenable.

Sunset wandered around on the internet a little bit. She saw a few posts by her friends—Rarity, Rainbow Dash, Pinkie Pie—on Twitter, but she made sure not to like them or anything else or they might see she was online and try to message her. It took all her might to keep away from the direct message indicator that said she had two unread, because she could never remember if Twitter had read receipts. She couldn’t take any chances.

So she scrolled past these, these and others. Funny videos, memes, selfies, little personal slices of life... something about it seemed so very profound, the fact that all these people were tuned into the same channel, sharing little bits and pieces of themselves. And Sunset, well... she was the detached observer. Not just here on the internet, lurking but not interacting, but it seemed that way with the world at large. She was the outsider, and... well, did she have any real impact? It was hard to tell. Maybe at one point she had, months and months ago, but now she’d pulled away and was smearing the days together with a smudge brush, blurring away traces of her presence.

Sometime after skipping the third punk song, an itch in the back of her head was pulled forward and cracked its eggshell, gooping out into the centre of her cranium to simmer and scramble. The itch was a memory, knowledge, and it pushed her to move—so, off of her legs the laptop went, and whoa the whole world and everything went all out of sorts, akimbo, how she imagined it was like for a spacecraft to drift aimlessly in the vacuum. But unlike the ship she righted herself and everything settled besides the cherry pit in her stomach.

Step by step fluid motional she got downways the hall and stopped in front of the kitchen sink where she leaned down, opened the cupboard door, and started rummaging around in the trash. Yeah, kinda gross, but she could wash her hands right there when she was done and she knew what she was looking for, anyway. Her little raccoon claws paused as they slipped along the smooth plastic, and then she knew she had it and pulled it out. Both her hand and its precious cargo went under the faucet and got a rinse, and then with a quick towel-dry she looked down at the pastel blue.

There were still six gelcaps left, but Sunset had been so sick with herself last time and worried that she might go overboard that she threw it away, even in the trash can and not in the pile. She’d intended to take the trash out to the dumpster in the morning but of course she forgot and so here she was, all high up on cold meds and fishing her sin out of the garbage. She poured them out into her hand, one two three four five six, and stared at the deep blue something for a moment before she dry-swallowed them one by one.

On the second one, she gagged, but she just stopped and kept going.

After the fourth one, she paused to drink a glass of water.

When they were all gone, she let out a long sigh and replaced the bottle in the trash. The cupboard door closing reverberated through the room or at least through her head.

And the water pooled warmly around her feet but she could hardly notice as the whole world spun dizzyingly, turning into blue glass walls. It tasted like the airport, so Sunset knew it was the airport—and the thrum of busy-busy filled the air like a flick had been switched. Somehow it was like she had never left, and she nestled into her space in the shower stream and felt warm even as the cold nipped at her bones. And the girls (the girls!) were around her, sort of at least.

“Everything’s fucked, everything’s fucked, everything’s so fucked.”

Their voices were filled with nothing, barely words seeping through the cracks in her skull and this time she didn’t mumble back nonsuch replies but rasped through the cotton that something was wrong. She pushed in the knob and the water ceased its friendly fire but the fucking drain was still slow to drain so she stood there with the water at the base of her ankles for a moment. Her knees were about to collapse but she had enough forethought to maybe not do that or else she might crack her head for real for real and that’d be a shittier way to go so she pulled herself unsteadily down into a cradling-herself position.

Sunset Shimmer sat with knees-locked-to-chest against the back of the bathtub, staring at the faucet on the far end and trying not to think about the fact that she both was still there but also her head felt like it was folding in unto itself. Pressure, pressure, pressure. She closed her eyes for a second and in that second lived a whole entire life burrowed deep within a sort of hive world with a wife and a daughter and a meh kind of job every nine to five and she remembered the fluffy pancakes with just the right amount of butter on top they made every Sunday night to usher in the week and remind themselves that even through the routine there were these little moments and when Sunset Shimmer opened her eyes, all she saw was the far wall where the grimy faucet pointed straight towards her.

And in a few seconds, she forgot all that too—it just slipped her mind, fell out, and crawled away.

It was Sunday, she suddenly recalled, and tomorrow would be Monday, and tomorrow would be school, and oh goddess there was probably homework she should have been doing, stuff she in theory gave up on the moment she downed the bottle but that still lurked around at the back of her mind because of course why not, it was still possible. In theory.

But she wasn’t even sure if she’d go, now; what was the point if she hadn’t done her work, and why wander around half-dead out of her mind alive as a zombie when every day is exactly the same and the needlepokes keep needlepoking at her brain, asleep and awake too. And then when she spilled out of class onto the front drive among the other students, it’d be the same thing again, and Sunset would watch it all entropically unfold like an umbrella outward just like that.

The smart thing would be to go straight home after school.

The smart thing would be to go to bed and sleep this off.

The smart thing would be don’t go to the store again.

The smart thing would be don’t go down the pharmacy aisle.

The smart thing would be to put the box back.

The smart thing would be to tell the cashier to take it away.

The smart thing would be to drop the box in the trash outside the store.

The smart thing would be to drop the box in the trash outside your apartment.

The smart thing would be to drop the box in the trash inside your apartment.

The smart thing would be don’t open the box right now.

The smart thing would be don’t have any more than a couple.

But what incentive do you have to do the smart thing?

Why not do the stupid thing?

Do you really want to be in your head right now?

It’s not like it’s an accident; it’s not like you don’t know what you’re doing.

Every time, you make the conscious decision, and you reaffirm that decision every step of the way there and back.

It’s all you can think about.

It’s your own damn fault.

It’s your own damn fault.

It’s your own damn fault.

It’s your own damn fault.

It’s your own damn fault.

⠀

Author's Note

All the City Water

She hadn’t expected the bus to be this... peaceful.

Yet Twilight Sparkle couldn’t appreciate it, not now. As she sat alone in one of the rows of seats in the back, hand clamped forcefully on the bar atop the seat in front of her, she was trembling. A fitful anxiety squirmed under her skin, and it wasn’t because she really wasn’t used to taking the bus, especially not to this part of town, and especially not alone. It wasn’t because some of the characters who lined the seats on the other side of the bus were seedy-looking and gave a sheltered girl from the suburbs pause. It wasn’t even because she hadn’t told her parents anything besides that she’d be a little late home from school and would take care of getting home herself and she knew they’d have plenty of questions for her when she got back.

No, Twilight trembled because she was scared for (or of?) her best friend. Every couple minutes she’d pull her phone back out and wake it to look back over her text messages. The last ones, after Sunset Shimmer’s nearly-incomprehensible one from last night, were sent by Twilight at 12:43pm.

Hey, I’m just worried about you
Is it still ok if I meet you at your apt after school?

That was a few hours ago, and she still hadn’t gotten a reply—and of course, that was worrying Twilight sick. Sure, Sunset had been able to send her a message the night before—sort of—but there was no telling what she could have done the next morning when she woke up.

If she woke up.

Nope. Twilight gulped and banished that thought from her mind as best she could; that wasn’t going to be helpful. She had to focus on what she was doing, where she was going. It was going to be okay, and that was her promise to herself. She tilted her head to glance out through the grime of the window and saw a familiar store, letting her know she was about ten minutes out from Sunset’s place.

Biting her lip nervously, Twilight woke her phone again and tapped out another message.

Umm... I’m gonna be there in 10-15 minutes, lmk if that’s not ok

She felt kind of bad, still going over that way without Sunset’s express confirmed yes-we’re-still-on permission... but at the same time, she was really worried by the fact that her friend wasn’t responding. If she got there and Sunset told her to go, then of course she would—but not until Twilight made sure she was okay.

The rest of the ride on the bus passed uneventfully; Twilight merely watched the people getting off and getting on with each stop, idly guessing at where they might be going. Really, she was just trying to keep her mind off all the possibilities of what was going to happen very soon, with only a mild degree of success—but that had to be enough. A block out, she could see the top of the apartment building peeking out from behind another, so Twilight pulled the cord and soon the bus came to a stop. As she stood up and stepped down from the raised portion in the back, she offered a meek wave of thanks to the driver before walking out the back doors. She tried to ignore the eyes she felt boring into the back of her head as she went.

She was the only one who’d gotten off at the stop, and in another moment the bus was gone, sweeping a few dry leaves from the street in its wake. A shiver went down Twilight’s spine as she stood there by the metal pole, and she wasn’t sure if it was because of the breeze or because she was quite literally facing what she’d been dreading all day.

With a deep breath, Twilight steeled herself—and then she started walking the block, over to the apartment building. It felt like she was moving through molasses, even though her heart beat hard and fast in her chest; she couldn’t get there fast enough. The groundswell of anxiety pushed her forward, though, and soon she had walked through the front doors and into the lobby.

It looked the same as before; of course it did, it had only been a day. Weathered tiles, a mess of cobwebs by the ceiling, a weird probably fake plant in the corner. Actually, maybe it was a rubber plant; Twilight had never paid all that much attention to botany so she couldn’t be quite sure, but it did look kind of like the one at her aunts’. She shook her head as she entered the stairwell, and started the long trek upwards.

The walls of the shaft felt closed-in and claustrophobic, somehow shrouded mostly in darkness despite the frosted-glass windows at each landing that seemed to give off an unearthly glow with how they scattered the sunlight. Her heart pounded more and more the higher she climbed, and the stairs seemed unending. Until they weren’t, and she found herself standing at the fourth-storey door. Even as anxious as she was, there was still a little relief in opening that door and leaving the stairs behind her.

It was easier this time since she knew where she was going, which one of the doors that all looked the same was Sunset’s. And in a moment that was where Twilight came to a stop, before the 419, staring at the peep-hole.

Twilight stood stock still for an unknowable amount of time—a minute? five minutes?—just a step away from the door, thoughts swirling and stomach churning. The more she stared at the door, the more the grain of the wood seemed to gestaltzerfall apart—until she shook her head once more. No. She had to get herself together, and she had to talk to Sunset. Raising a hand, she rapped lightly against the door with her knuckles, three times.

Thirty seconds passed—then a minute. The door did not move... and what’s more, Twilight couldn’t hear anything coming from within. She frowned, took another breath, and knocked again, this time a more forcefully. There was no way that anyone inside could have missed it.

And again, after a minute, nothing. Not even the sounds of shuffling. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone, tapping it on—but there was still no reply from Sunset.

Twilight’s stomach dropped. Cautiously, she put her ear up to the door—still nothing. She let out a sigh and leaned her back to the door, laying her head against it.

“Sunset? You in there?” she called with a hand against her mouth, hopefully loud enough for Sunset to hear but not to disrupt the other tenants. She didn’t want to attract too much attention or else she might get kicked out of the building or something. “Sunset, please, it’s Twilight. I understand if you don’t want to see me right now, but please just let me know you’re okay. Please.”

It felt as if all the air was being sucked from the room as the minutes ticked by with no reply, and the last vestiges of Twilight’s composure started to crumble. Why wasn’t Sunset coming to the door? Why wasn’t she responding to texts?

A deep, dark answer to these questions lingered in the back of Twilight’s mind, one which she tried to shove away again once it started to rear its ugly head. But it was no use; Pandora’s box had been opened and the grim reality of the situation began to set in. She couldn’t help but picture Sunset in there, haphazardly splayed across her bed, lying completely still...

Twilight let herself slide down the door, tears welling in her eyes as she reached the floor and pulled her knees to her chest. She tried not to cry, she really did, but her mind was racing—what could she do? She didn’t know Sunset was... not okay, but how could she find out? Should she call 911? She’d never ever done that before but... what else was there? Her hands were shaking, barely able to hold onto herself, trembling, trembling...

Somewhere ahead of her, she heard a door open, and footsteps. Twilight hoped that they would just pass her by, that whomever they belonged to would ignore her and just go about their business—but as the footsteps grew louder, she realised that wasn’t the case; they were coming straight towards her. She kept her head down, but a presence soon loomed above.

“Twilight?” came a familiar voice from in front of her. Twilight gasped, and looked up to see a fiery-haired girl in jeans and a leather jacket. She held an orange twelve-pack of pop with one arm, and a jet-black purse was hanging along her other side.

“S-Sunset?!” In an instant, Twilight leapt to her feet, throwing her arms around the girl before her. Sunset flailed a little, almost losing her balance, but she recovered in time to put an arm around Twilight.

“You alright?” Sunset asked after a moment, clearly concerned.

“Y-yeah.” The purple girl was still trembling. She sniffled, pulling away from the hug and brushing herself off. “I’m just glad you’re okay—you weren’t responding to texts or anything, so I tried knocking and calling for you but you—well, I guess you weren’t here, obviously, but I got worried that you...”

Sunset blinked in surprise, and her free hand quickly tapped around to her pockets on her jacket and pants before momentarily diving into her purse. “Ah, crap, I must have left my phone in the apartment,” she said, shaking her head. “I guess the last time I remember having it was this morning, before I went out.” Her features softened. “I’m really sorry, Twi, I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

“Heh, well...” Twilight shrugged her shoulders, gritting her teeth. “I couldn’t exactly... not worry after yesterday.”

Sunset winced, and now the pain in her eyes was visible. “I’m really sorry for that too; that was so unlike me and I was way outta line and—”

“Maybe we should take this inside,” Twilight cut in quickly, gesturing to the door beside her. “I just don’t wanna make too much noise... you know, the neighbours and all.” She bit her lip.

Sunset nodded. “Yeah, this’d definitely be better with a little privacy.” She reached back into her pocket and pulled out a keychain with a couple keys, idly spinning it in a circle around her finger before slotting one into the lock. “Come on in,” Sunset said as she swung the door open and walked through, sliding off her jacket and setting it on the rack. Twilight followed close behind her.

Unlike the lobby, the apartment wasn’t quite the same as it had been the day before. Where the carpet had looked a little grimy and the kitchen sink had been filled with dirty dishes, the place now looked freshly vacuumed and the dishes were gone, the kitchen counter and sink having been wiped clear. What’s more, the curtains on the living room window were pulled back, casting the room in a warm, natural light—even if the view of the parking lot below wasn’t all that much to speak of. Twilight closed the door behind her as she entered, and she stood aside watching Sunset as she set the pop on the counter.

“You want a Fanta?” Sunset cracked open the cardboard and pulled out a can. “I’m gonna put a couple in the freezer for a few minutes just to cool ’em down quicker.”

“Uh, sure.” Twilight laughed nervously as she watched Sunset open up the freezer and set a pair of pop cans inside. “So, um... how have you been today? We missed you at lunch,” she lied. Well, it wasn’t quite a lie, because the girls probably had; Twilight just hadn’t been there with them.

Sunset glanced back over to where Twilight stood, an eyebrow raised. “I’ve been... fine. Just kind of getting myself together, preparing for... this.” She paused, looking contemplative, then added, “Whatever this is.”

“I-I don’t really know, either,” Twilight managed to get out. “I just... you’re my friend. I want to be here for you.”

In reply, Sunset simply nodded, her expression inscrutable. Once she’d put another few cans in the fridge, she started to walk out from behind the counter over to the small table across from the sofa where they had been studying the day before. She took a seat in one of the chairs, the one closer to the window. “You can sit on the couch if you want—it’s super comfy.”

“Thanks.” Twilight slipped off her shoes by the jacket rack and shuffled across the room in her socks, lowering herself into the worn plush upholstery. “Oh, wow,” she murmured as her body sunk into its depths.

“Toldja,” Sunset said with a wry smile. “Real nice place to lie down and just... space out.” She visibly cringed as she said those last few words, and turned her head away toward the window.

Twilight nodded, shifting on the cushion. An uneasy silence settled between them, and neither of them seemed to want to make eye contact. A minute or two went by.

It was Sunset Shimmer, still looking towards the window, who broke the silence. “So, um... I guess I’ll just start, again, with an apology. Last night I was... really stupid. I know I really screwed up, and I never should have yelled at you.” She paused, sighing deeply. “It was all me, I just freaked out, I should have thought more, and—”

Twilight reached forward, taking Sunset’s hand in hers; immediately, the redhead flinched and jerked back. Twilight took a deep breath, pulling her own hand back as well.

“I-I’m sorry, you just startled me,” Sunset stammered. “I didn’t mean...” She reached her hand out towards Twilight, back to where their hands had met.

Twilight stared at Sunset’s hand for a long moment’s pause, and then reached out to take it once more. “It’s okay,” she said quietly. “Go on.”

“I don’t really have anything else, I just...” Sunset’s features hung low with genuine concern. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

Twilight squeezed Sunset's hand. “I know. But it’s...” She paused, thinking. “It’s not really about me right now. It’s about you.”

Sunset nodded, slowly, though her eyes averted Twilight’s. “I guess.”

“So, um... how... how did this start?” Twilight asked. “If that’s not too much to ask.”

“The, uh, the stuff?” Sunset asked, stealing only a glance to confirm Twilight was nodding. “I... well... it’s... it’s kind of complicated.”

“I talked to Flash,” Twilight blurted, and then as Sunset flinched she realised maybe she shouldn’t have said that. “I mean—he didn’t say that much, I just wanted to—”

“No, no, that’s fine,” Sunset said, finally looking directly at Twilight. Her gaze was sombre, but there was no malice in her eyes. “Should’ve expected that... I didn’t give you much to go on and I know you were worried.” She exhaled. “Makes it a little easier on me now, I guess. Did he tell you what... uh, what we did?”

“Kinda, yeah,” Twilight confirmed, trying her best to look apologetic. “Again... he didn’t say much, but... he said you did... stuff... for a few months with him.”

Sunset sucked in her cheek, but she nodded. “Yeah. Something like that. A lot of time hanging out with him and his dumb bandmates. Probably just kept me there ’cause I was nice to look at, and got me high so I wouldn’t get bored. That was... every week or two for a few months.” She didn’t say any more for some time, and Twilight wondered if she’d said anything wrong. But then she started again: “And that really was it. Once I broke up with Flash, I didn’t think there was going to be anything more like that.”

“O-oh,” Twilight found herself saying. “So it came out of that?”

“Kind of.” At this point, Sunset wasn’t looking at her, not really; though her hand still rested in Twilight’s, she stared past her towards the wall. “As I said, I didn’t plan on doing anything else like that. I wasn’t about to ask any of our friends about it—how could I, after everything they’ve done for me? I felt like I’d be letting them down.”

Twilight hummed. “But don’t, like Applejack and Rainbow...?”

Sunset bit her lip. “Okay, yeah, maybe you have a point there. They wouldn’t mind as much as I thought, but... I would, I guess?” She shrugged. “Weird hangups around asking anyone else about that sort of thing.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Twilight said, slowly nodding. “I... well, I can’t imagine wanting to do those things, but I also can see how that would be really awkward to ask.”

“Yeah,” Sunset said. “But I still... I still wanted to do that sort of thing, I guess. So I did a little looking around on the internet, and well... I figured out what this stuff would do to me, and I read enough to know what wouldn’t kill me.” She looked back down to the floor. “I mean... I don’t know, it’s just a thing to do. It’s dumb, and maybe not the safest thing to do, but... I’m not trying to really hurt myself with it or anything. Just a way to screw around.”

“I think I’m starting to understand that,” Twilight murmured. Sunset actually looked at her, raising an eyebrow; at that, Twilight added: “I mean, not for myself, but... I’ve been talking to our other friends.”

“Like Applejack and Rainbow?” Sunset asked knowingly.

“...Maybe.” Twilight sighed. “I’m having to unpack a lot of stuff my parents told me and my brother over the years, but I guess now’s as good a time as ever to figure all this out. I don’t quite get it still, of course... but it doesn’t freak me out as much anymore, the idea that my friends would want to do that kind of thing.” She looked up to Sunset. “I mean, not to say that what you’ve been doing is okay with me, but... I’m not going to hate you for it or anything.”

Sunset gave her a wry smile at that, nearly laughing. “Hate me? I guess it’d be fair to. I’ve been... pretty awful.”

Twilight was quick to respond. “No, really, I’m over last night—”

“I mean to me,” Sunset said, cutting her off. This time she really did laugh, a dry laugh that Twilight hadn’t heard in some time. “I did say it started as, y’know, just something to pass time. School was boring and I didn’t want to be a burden on our friends by making them hang out with me or anything, and I guess I was just trying to... mix things up a bit.” She sighed. “It sounds silly when I say it like that, doesn’t it?”

Twilight pursed her lips. “I’m not here to judge, only to listen. And to help.”

“It kind of spiralled out of control from there, though.” Sunset’s hand tensed. “I dunno. I’m not good at doing that sort of stuff just a little bit, just every so often. I just kept doing it and doing it, even when... even when I don’t want to that much, or when it makes me miserable.”

“Why?” Twilight asked, tilting her head.

“I...” Sunset started, but she let that trail off into silence. “I guess I’m... not totally sure. I mean, on some level I definitely still want to, for all the same reasons, but... I guess I just got used to it.” She brushed a lock of hair to the side with her free hand. “I still spend most of my time here, cooped up alone in the apartment. At this point I’m just... so used to doing it. Using up all my time that way.”

Twilight nodded slowly. “I don’t quite understand, not completely. But I think to some extent I do.”

Sunset laughed again. “Not everything makes sense, Twi. Even for myself I don’t know if I could say that this does.”

Twilight Sparkle smiled a feeble smile. “Still...” She hesitated, and in that moment squeezed Sunset’s hand. The redhead, for her part, gave her own smile back. “Sunset?”

“Yeah?”

“I, uh...” Twilight swallowed hard. “I want to ask you to do something. I just don’t know if it’s too much.”

“Shoot,” Sunset said, eyebrow raised in curiosity.

“You need to stop,” Twilight said, the words slipping out a little quicker than she’d meant. “I... I feel silly saying this, like I’m being too harsh on you or something, but... this is really bad for you. You really need to not do this anymore.”

There was a certain sadness in Sunset’s eyes, but it didn’t make Twilight doubt herself for a second—nor did it seem intended to make her. “You’re right, I know you are,” Sunset admitted. Her head hung low, red and gold locks hanging over her face. “And I really want to, too. I’m just scared it won’t be that easy, I guess.”

Twilight squeezed Sunset’s hand again. “It might not be. But I’m right here with you, and the rest of our friends will be, too.” She put her other hand to Sunset’s, clasping the other girl’s hand between hers. “I know it’s not necessarily our responsibility to, but... we can spend more time with you, all of us. You don’t need to feel like you have all that lonely time to fill by yourself.”

Sunset took a long, deep breath and didn’t respond for a minute. “I’m... maybe this is dumb, but... I really don’t want the other girls to know. About this, about any of this.” She gazed at Twilight, her eyes pleading. “I might be able to talk about this eventually, but... right now I don’t know if I can.”

“That’s okay,” Twilight affirmed with a nod. “I wouldn’t ask you to talk about this with anyone else, not if you’re not comfortable with it.” She looked at Sunset, and gave her as much of a smile as she could muster. “But I do want to help you spend more time with me and the rest of our friends, if that can help you.”

Sunset nodded. “I know you’re right. And... I’m willing to try that.” She closed her eyes, relaxed, for a long moment before opening them once more. “Yes, Twilight. I’ll stop.”

“Thank you,” Twilight murmured, allowing herself to smile. “And if you’re ever feeling the urge, well... we’re only a couple texts away.”

Sunset finally smiled too, and her face seemed to take on an irradiated glow as sunlight streaked in from the window beside them. “Thank you.” She let go of Twilight’s hand, and stood with her arms outstretched.

For a moment, the purple girl was confused; then, with a moment’s realisation, she stood too and met Sunset’s embrace. They stood there, locked together, for a seemingly unending amount of time, but Twilight didn’t want it to end; she wanted to hold on and not let go of Sunset, never again.

“Oh, shoot,” Sunset said, after some time had passed.

“What’s up?” Twilight replied, still holding her friend close.

“Fanta.” Sunset laughed, pulling back. “Hopefully they haven’t frozen.”

“Oh, yeah.” Twilight shuffled nervously as Sunset stepped away, over to the kitchen. “Oh, um, Sunset?”

“Yeah?” Sunset had the freezer door open, and the burst of cool air could be felt across the room. “Oh, good, they’re fine.”

“Do you...” Twilight searched for the words. “Do you have any more? Of the stuff you were doing, I mean.”

Sunset turned back towards the room, pop cans in hands and elbowing the freezer shut behind her. “No, I don’t. Never really kept any around.”

“What about those boxes in your room?” Twilight asked.

Sunset’s smile faltered. “Those were all empty, actually, I just got too lazy to take out the trash. They’re all gone now—I cleaned up earlier before I went out.” She outstretched an arm towards Twilight. “Fanta?”

“Thanks,” Twilight mumbled, taking the can. “Oof, that’s cold.”

“Heh, yeah, guess I left them in there a little too long.” Sunset pulled the tab on her can and it made a loud fizzing sound. She took a long swig. “Good stuff,” she added, wiping her mouth.

Twilight Sparkle looked down at the can in her hand. “I, um... I don’t know how to open it.”

Sunset blinked, and then clearly tried to stifle a snicker.

Twilight’s cheeks went red. “I—my family doesn’t ever really—”

“Hey, it’s fine.” Sunset smiled. “Just pull that metal tab up. Make sure not to pull it off, though.” She took another sip.

Twilight fiddled with the can for a second, and then she got the fizzing sound too. “Oh, thank goodness.”

Sunset reached over to pat her on the back. “See? You got it easy.”

“Y-yeah.” Twilight looked down at the hole in the metal, gulped, and brought it to her lips to take just a sip. “Eugh!” she exclaimed, face screwing up.

Sunset laughed. “That bad?”

“It’s... it’s just so sweet, jeez.” Twilight shuddered. “Not like a normal sweet, either—some weird sickly chemical sweet.”

Sunset shook her head, still smiling. “I think I know what you mean...”

The door to Sweet Snacks Café chimed, and the two girls walked quickly inside from the cool evening breeze. Both wore leather jackets, insulating them from the cold; Sunset had lent Twilight a spare one. The purple girl hadn’t understood why Sunset kept laughing on the way there, until she saw her reflection in a store window as they passed; then it was giggles from the both of them all the rest of the way to the diner.

Twilight let out a sigh of relief as the door swung closed behind them, leaving the cool outside air behind them. Inside it was a bit more full than the day before, mostly at the counter, but still the same cutesy atmosphere with an old-timey tune resounding through the chatter.

“Ooh!” Sunset exclaimed, lighting up. “Joe Jones!”

Twilight blinked, shaking her head a little with a smile. “Jeez, how do you remember all this music?”

“Hey, the music of this world is friggin’ amazing, I’d have a hard time forgetting it,” Sunset shot back, grinning. “Besides, ‘You Talk Too Much’ is a classic.”

“Helloooo!” called a familiar chipper voice, before they could say any more. “Feel free to take a seat at the counter or an open booth, and I will be right with youuuuu!”

Sunset rolled her eyes. “Oh, Pinkie, never change.” It was her who led the way; Twilight followed dumbly behind as they weaved past the counter and over to the booth in the corner by the jukebox. “This booth’s my favourite,” Sunset said as she turned and slid in to the far side, where Twilight had sat the day before.

“I do like that it’s out of the way,” Twilight replied, sitting down opposite Sunset. “Secluded.”

“That’s a good word.” Sunset hummed.

“A-ha!” Pinkie Pie was upon them in rollerskates, pulling to a halt in front of the jukebox. “Now what do we have here?” She posed dramatically in her baby blue outfit, putting a hand to her chin.

“Heya, Pinkie,” Sunset said, tilting her head with amusement. “I just checked my watch.”

Pinkie’s eyes narrowed. “And what’d it say?”

“Well...” Sunset paused, raising an eyebrow. “Between you and me... it said that it’s burger time.”

Pinkie Pie gasped a loud gasp, pulling back so hard and fast that she nearly fell over, arms like windmills as she tried to steady herself. “Burger time!” she repeated, once she could stand upright. “That’s one of the most important times! I’ll be right on it. And...” She turned, giving Twilight a little bow. “For the lady?”

Twilight opened her mouth as if to speak, but was cut off by Sunset interjecting, “Hey, what about me? Why don’t I get to be ‘the lady’?”

Pinkie rolled her eyes. “The leather jacket, sil—oh.” Mid-sentence, her eyes had followed Sunset’s gesture over to Twilight. “Whaaat? Oh my goodness! You girls are, like, double trouble!”

Twilight blushed. “If it’s okay, I’ll, uh, I’ll just have what she’s having.”

Pinkie gave her a curt nod and a curtsy. “I’ll be back in a jiffy!”

“Thanks!” Sunset called after her. “Clover, that girl’s a handful and a half.”

Twilight smiled. “She’s pretty silly... but she always makes it work. Somehow.”

Sunset nodded, and a silence settled between them. Not an awkward or uncomfortable one—nor really a silent one, given the hubbub of the other patrons of the diner and the cheerful music the jukebox added as a backdrop—but something warm, friendly, and just okay. After a moment, Sunset turned her head to glance out the window, and Twilight followed suit. It wasn’t quite dark outside but it was getting pretty close, sitting somewhere delicate between the two girls’ namesakes.

Twilight sighed, her breath casting a light fog on the window. Yesterday had been rough, and this whole situation had been even rougher for Sunset for far longer. But maybe—just maybe—things were well on their way to getting better.

Author's Note

Dazed and Awake

Sunset Shimmer yawned, stretching her arms out above her head. Then, she flipped over her phone on her lap and glanced at the time—not even six o’clock. She groaned, leaning back into the sofa and letting herself sink further into its comfy depths, wondering why she’d even agreed to ride along with Rarity in the first place. Not that walking herself would have been that much better, but at least it’d give her something to do instead of just waiting.

And Sunset hated waiting. She hated doing nothing, being left to stew in her own thoughts; she’d usually rather play some game on her phone, or be texting back and forth with a friend, or just browsing mindlessly through a website. But for some reason, right now, none of that seemed appealing. It all just felt kind of off.

Thankfully, that’s when her phone buzzed on her lap. She flipped it over to see she had a text from Twilight Sparkle, and her lips curved.

You excited?

Sunset rolled her eyes, and quickly tapped back a response.

I mean yeah but Pinkie throws a party practically every other weekend
Should be fun tho

I guess you’re right, she just made this one sound like
Idk
More of a big deal
Like it’s not going to be just us girls

Sunset bit her lip. You nervous?

Maybe a little

I’m sure it’ll be fine
Pinkie wants all her friends to have fun after all

Yeah I guess
How are you feeling?

Fine, though I guess I’m tired of waiting
I mean I’m glad Rarity offered me a ride I’m just like
I dunno

Oh yeah
I’m mostly just waiting around here before I gotta go too

Sunset smiled. In good company I guess

Mhm

She didn’t know how to respond, so she simply didn’t; after a minute of staring at the screen, she flipped the phone over once again. She’d see Twilight soon enough—and everyone else, too. It’d be nice to see all of them outside of school, as she hadn’t in some time, yet she was feeling a little apprehensive as well. It’d been a while, to say the least. Not that she didn’t think she’d fall back into it easily once she got in the swing of things, but... that didn’t make her any less nervous.

The phone on her lap buzzed again, and Sunset flipped it over.

>Sorry I’m a bit early but I’m outside

And please do hurry, I’m not sure I’m allowed to park here

Sunset shook her head and laughed. Be out in a sec. A deep breath, and then she stood. She slid into a leather jacket once she reached the doorway, and once her keys and wallet were securely in her pockets she was out the door.

The evening air was crisp, a gust of wind brushing Sunset’s hair back as the apartment building’s doors opened. She stepped out into the mostly-empty parking lot, and noticed a car waiting beside the sidewalk with its engine on; as she approached, its window unrolled.

“Sunset! It’s been so long!” Rarity called from the driver’s seat.

“What are you talking about?” Sunset said with a smile, leaning down to look at her chauffeur. Rarity was dressed in style as she always did for these sorts of things; her light blue dress, most likely an original creation, complimented her eyes and they both seemed to shimmer in the sunlight. “I talked to you at school today, remember?”

“Yes, yes,” Rarity said, “but it’s been so long since we’ve spent any time together.” She patted the empty passenger seat beside her, beaming. “Come on in, the water’s fine.”

Sunset rolled her eyes. “Alright, alright.” She opened the unlocked door and slid inside, clicking the seatbelt in place over herself. “How’re you doing tonight?”

“Oh, splendid,” Rarity replied. “Just marvellous.” She was posed oddly, arms outstretched with both wrists over the top of the steering wheel. “Positively smashing.”

“Smashing?” Sunset tilted her head. “Okay, that one’s weird, even for you. What’s up?”

“Oh, nothing, nothing. Just excited for this party, that’s all.” She paused, for a moment looking lost in thought. “Really, though, it was nice to hear you could make it to this one. It’s been what, two months and twice as many parties you’ve missed?”

Sunset blinked. “Oh jeez...”

“It’s not that big a deal or anything,” Rarity went on, staring out the front window. “I think poor Pinkie Pie was just starting to worry that you might not like her parties...”

“I-I love her parties!” Sunset protested. “I... I know I haven’t been around a ton lately, and that’s on me. And I’m trying to fix that, starting now. I’ll make sure she knows it, too.”

Rarity looked back to her, a glimmer in her eye and a wry smile on her lips. “Thank you, darling. I don’t mean to make you feel bad—quite the opposite in fact, I’m glad you’re coming along. I just wanted to make sure you understood.”

“Oh, I do,” Sunset assured her, embellishing the statement with a grimace. “That’s what I mean—I’ve only really been thinking about myself lately, and I really want to work to change that.”

“Glad to hear it,” Rarity said, and with that she pulled the vehicle out of park and they started moving down the block. “Say, one more thing.”

“Yeah?” Sunset quirked an eyebrow.

Rarity didn’t even look up from the road. “Are you and Twilight dating?”

A beat. Then: “What?!”

Rarity giggled—or perhaps cackled—as they sped off.

Once they reached Pinkie Pie’s house, Rarity had been forced to park on the street nearly a block away, as both Pinkie’s driveway and the surrounding curbside were all filled with various other cars. Rarity had glanced in the rear view mirror and requested a moment alone so she could touch up her makeup; Sunset thought it looked fine, but she obliged and went on ahead.

The sun was already hanging low in the sky, casting Pinkie’s family home in an almost cinematic light. Sunset had taken a liking to Pinkie’s house from the few times she’d been there; even though the small slate-coloured bungalow seemed like it could barely contain the energy of four sisters, something about that made it all the cosier. As she approached the car-filled driveway, she heard a shrill “SUNSET!” and before she knew quite what was happening the party’s rambunctious pink-haired host had snaked her way through the cars and ran up to gave her a big hug.

“Hey, Pinkie,” Sunset said with a laugh, wrapping her arms around her friend. “How’s the party?”

“Great now that you’re here!” Pinkie gave her a final squeeze before pulling away. “Well, it was great before you got here too, ’cause since when have I ever thrown a not-great party? And everybody seems to be having a super-duper good time, and I’m sure it’ll be even better now that you’re here! Thank you so so so much for coming!” She beamed. “C’mon!”

Without waiting for a reply, Pinkie grabbed Sunset’s hand and whisked her up the drive. Sunset laughed again, forced into a run so she didn’t fall over. They paused at the porch, where two girls in their year—Lyra and Bon Bon—were sitting on the porch swing, leaning into each other with a light blush spread across both their faces.

“Talk to you girls again later, I gotta bring Sunset inside!” Pinkie said cheerily, and without waiting for a reply she pulled Sunset into the foyer and through the entryway, into the small dining room, whose curtains were drawn to let in some of the natural evening light. There was loud thumping music in the other room—the living room—beside them, but Pinkie didn’t pay it any mind; she let go of Sunset’s hand and did a silly twirl, and then stood stock still in front of the table, face screwed up in confusion.

“Oh, hey, where’s Rarity?” Pinkie asked. “Wasn’t she driving you?”

“Heeere!” came Rarity’s reply from over by the door, making Sunset jump a little. “Apologies, darling, I just needed a moment.” The girl stepped up to Sunset, putting a friendly hand on her back. “Didn’t make it that far in, did you?”

“I was just getting there,” Sunset said, glancing wryly over to Rarity. “I don’t know where anyone is yet, though, and Pinkie seemed like she wanted to show me something.”

Pinkie perked up. “Oh, yes! Snacks!” She stepped aside and gestured dramatically to the dining room table before them, on which a variety of bowls were laden with various chips, dips, and carrot sticks, alongside a tray of chocolate chip cookies. At the back, next to a bunch of red plastic cups, was a big glass bowl filled with a pinkish liquid. “And my secret-recipe Pinkie punch!”

“Oh, don’t mind if I do.” Rarity stepped around the table, taking a plastic cup and scooping liquid into it with the ladle in the punch bowl. “I am parched.”

“I could go for something to drink, too,” Sunset said. “But, um, would you happen to have some kind of pop? I’m not all that big on punch.”

Pinkie visibly deflated a little, but she nodded all the same. “Yeah, we’ve got some Dr Pepper in the fridge...”

Sunset bit her lip. “Do you maybe have something... less caffeinated?” She grinned nervously. “I’m really sorry if this is too much trouble, I—”

“Don’t worry about it!” Pinkie said, her smile regaining its lustre. “I’ve got, um, let’s see...” She tapped her chin. “Oh, my mom’s got some bottles of Diet Squirt, is that okay?”

“That’d be wonderful,” Sunset said, watching as Pinkie turned to open the fridge and rummage inside. A moment later and Sunset had a cool bottle in her hand. “Thanks, Pinkie.”

“Of course!” Pinkie grinned. “A good party lets everyone have fun, however they wanna!” She reached over to grab a few chips before moseying over to the guac.

“Well, I love the punch, Pinkie,” Rarity said, taking another sip for the show of it. “Do you know where Coco is?”

“I think she’s over in my room with Suri, they said they wanted somewhere quiet to chat.” Pinkie hummed. “You should go check on them! I gotta go back outside, I think a few people might trickle in. Sunset!” She turned to face the redhead, who’d opened the bottle and was taking a refreshing gulp. “Everyone’s in the living room if you wanna say hi! And again, thank you for coming!”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Sunset shot back, smiling. “I’ll go see what’s up with the girls.”

The three parted ways, and Sunset headed over to the short hall leading to the living room. She grinned as she saw Rainbow Dash leaning against the wall there in the far corner, deep in conversation with Applejack about something or other. The athlete's hair was newly cropped short, something that must have happened between the end of school and this evening hour.

"So I see you finally came out," Sunset remarked as she passed the pair.

Rainbow's head flicked immediately towards her, pupils small as pinpricks. "W-What? I-I don't know what you mean!"

Sunset shook her head, laughing. "Sorry, what I meant to say was—nice haircut." She accentuated this with a wink, earning a deep blush from Rainbow and a straight-up guffaw from Applejack. Before she had to bear the consequences, Sunset turned, whistling to herself as she strolled into the living room.

A room which held quite a few more people than Sunset had been expecting. Sure, Pinkie’s recent parties that she’d attended had more than just the girls, but there was a difference between inviting over a few extra friends and... whatever this was, with teenagers filling up the chairs and sofas and huddled on the floor. In the centre of the room were a few people she barely knew playing Rock Band on the TV on the far wall, though most of the people in the room seemed to be barely paying them any notice—glued to their own little groups, their own conversations. Of course, she’d missed more than a few of Pinkie’s little get-togethers, so maybe she was just late to finding out they’d become a bit bigger than before.

Sunset’s eyes scanned the room, looking for a trace of her friends—but strangely enough, she didn’t see any of them. A few people smiled or nodded with recognition at her as she entered, but of course they recognised her, given her... past.

She shuddered, and tried not to think about that. But she wasn’t sure where exactly to go, trapped in a weird limbo of being known but not knowing anyone. She turned, considering just leaving to rejoin Pinkie—but that’s when she spotted a familiar face in the corner of the room, curled up on a dark purple armchair and apparently deep in conversation with another figure standing beside her.

“Twilight!” Sunset said with a step to the side, hopefully loud enough to get the other girl’s attention but not so loud as to interrupt anyone else. Twilight’s head turned, and her eyes lit up at the sight of her friend.

“Hey, Sunset!” the purple girl greeted her, reaching a hand out in Sunset’s direction and wiggling her fingers lazily. Twilight wore her typical Crystal Prep-lite outfit, hair up in a bun as always, and she held a red plastic cup in her other hand. As her fingers met Sunset’s, the latter girl noted that Twilight seemed more relaxed than she’d expected; even she was more at home here than Sunset. As Twilight let go, Sunset looked up at the glasses-clad boy beside her who she’d been talking to, giving him an inquisitive look.

“Hey there,” he said, smiling awkwardly. He adjusted his collar, avoiding her gaze. “The name’s Micro Chips.”

“Sunset Shimmer,” she replied.

“Heh... I know.”

Sunset winced. Of course he did—who wouldn’t? “What’re you kids up to?”

“Puh-lease, Sunny, I’m eighteen years old.” Twilight giggled an uncharacteristic giggle. “Basically an adult already.”

Sunset raised an eyebrow. “Suuure you are.”

“Twilight here was just telling me about a project she did a few years ago with ARM processors,” Micro Chips explained, taking a sip from a cup of his own.

“Ah, yes, arm processing. I had to do a lot of that when I came first through the mirror.” Sunset winked, and Micro Chips raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. Twilight just laughed—a really genuine, unrestrained laugh.

“I’m really glad to see you here,” Twilight added, after a clear moment of thought. “You know how worried I was about coming, but... it just feels okay. And Micro Chips is really nice to talk to.” She reached up to take his hand, squeezing it.

“Y-you too,” he said, a blush spreading across his cheeks. Sunset, for her part, snickered.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” Sunset said, giving the both of them a cordial smile. “That sort of stuff goes over my head, and I think I need a breath of fresh air, anyway.”

“Okay!” Twilight nodded forcefully. “Talk to you later, Sunny. Actually, speaking of, I should get some more punch...” She stood, making her way over to the hall and disappearing out of sight.

With a friendly nod to Micro Chips, Sunset Shimmer stepped away herself, within a moment already slipping between the Rock Band kids and another group on the sofa. Her sights were on the sliding glass doors on the far wall, leading out to a modest backyard that looked pretty empty, from what she could see. She’d been out there a few times before, with at least one goofy inflatable-pool party to her name, but in that moment it seemed like the perfect refuge.

Once she weaved past her classmates, it was but a moment until she had the sliding glass door open, pulling past its screen to let herself out into the fresh evening air. It wasn’t until she was out there that she realised how stuffy and cramped the living room had felt; here, though, once she got the screen and glass door closed, she could stretch her arms out and really, truly breathe.

And for a moment, she did just that, standing there on the concrete of the porch with her eyes closed and soaking in the light ambiance of her surroundings—when she heard familiar voices to her left, speaking softly. Sunset opened her eyes and turned her head, and she saw twin plumes rising through the air—and two forms beneath them, huddled together and sitting cross-legged on the grass against the side of the house.

Sunset smiled, and she took a loud step on the concrete towards them, hoping they’d notice—and it clearly worked, as they both looked up. The smaller form—Fluttershy—shrank into the larger—Flash Sentry—and let out a meep. Sunset laughed.

“Hey!” Flash said with a grin, waving her over with his free hand. “Was wondering if you’d show up.”

“Who, me?” Sunset pointed at herself as she walked over. “’Course I would, why wouldn’t I?”

Flash gave her a look. “I dunno, been a while since you showed up to a Pinkie party.”

“I had five dollars riding on you missing this one,” Fluttershy mumbled, blushing. She took a reluctant drag of her cigarette, her eyes trained squarely at the ground.

Sunset did a mock gasp. “Even you, Fluttershy? Jeez, okay, I get it. Well, I’m here now, so you guys can stop heckling me.”

“Never,” Flash shot back, grinning even more. He patted the ground next to him. “Why don’t you sit down? I assume you came out here because it’s so dang loud in there? There’s way more people than the last one.”

Sunset nodded. “It’s... a lot more than I was expecting, yeah. Though I’m glad people are having fun.” She crouched, attempting to sit down gracefully next to Flash—but ended up falling backwards into the house with a loud thunk. “Ow...”

“You okay?” Fluttershy asked, peering over with concern.

“Yeeeah, I’ll be fine,” Sunset said with a wince. “So how are you two lovebirds doing?”

Flash snickered; Fluttershy’s blush grew, and she pulled her shoulder away from his. “W-we’re not like that,” she said quickly, eyes wide in horror.

“She’s only teasing.” Flash lightly elbowed Sunset in the side. “Right?”

“You never know.” Sunset winked.

Fluttershy extinguished her cigarette and stood up. “I-I need to use the bathroom, I’ll be right back.” She sped off, leaving Sunset and Flash there alone in the cool of the evening.

“She’s skittish, that one,” Flash said, a wistful lilt to his voice.

Sunset turned to look at him. “Yeah, it can be hard not to mess with her a little. At least now she knows I’m doing it as a friend instead of trying to make her feel bad.”

“Mm, yeah.” Flash put his cigarette to his mouth, and turned away from Sunset to exhale a cloud of smoke. “I try not to do it too much. She’s still pretty sensitive about it, even when she knows it’s coming from a good place. I guess nobody really likes to be the butt”—he crushed his cigarette against the house foundation—“of a joke.”

“Noted.” Sunset suddenly felt very awkward; it was like the light breeze had suddenly shifted directions. “Is... something wrong?”

Flash looked back at her and shook his head, though the look on his face remained blank. “No, no, I’m fine. A lot going on in my head, a lot I still haven’t quite figured out yet, but... yeah, I’m good.” He paused, taking a deep breath. “What about you? I don’t want to pry, but...”

Sunset felt a pang in her chest; somehow, she knew this was coming. “Twilight told me she talked to you.”

Flash nodded. “Yeah, but she didn’t say very much. Or really anything at all, she just was really curious about smoking, and whether you had, and then we got talking about the few times you got high at band practice...”

Sunset laughed. “Good times.”

“They were, weren’t they?” Flash smiled, and then it faded as quickly as it had appeared. “But some other stuff Twilight said got me really worried, and I just... I don’t know. For real, are you okay?”

Sunset bit her lip. “Well... yeah, I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Sunset...” Flash sighed. “You missed a bunch of these parties, and I heard you missed a bunch of school recently, too, and I know you, I know when you’re hiding something.” In that moment, she could see genuine worry lingering at the corners of his eyes. “Like, you don’t even have to tell me what it is... I just really need to know that you’re okay.”

Sunset took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment. “Alright,” she said upon opening them. “Yeah, I mean—Twilight wasn’t lying, I definitely was... not in a great place, not being very nice to myself. Not in danger,” she added, “but being pretty stupid all the same. But please, please believe me when I say that right now, I’m totally okay.” She reached up to take his hand between hers, staring him dead in the eye. “I had a good long talk with Twilight, and I’m doing a lot better.”

Flash exhaled and nodded, slowly. “Okay, good. Thank you, Sunset. Again, like... you don’t owe me anything, and I really don’t want to be all up in your business...” He paused, rubbing his cheek. “I just want you to be safe.”

“And I’ll be safe,” Sunset assured him, flashing a half smile. “Safe as I’ve ever been.”

“Now that’s got me scared,” Flash remarked, that knowing look returning to his eyes. “Not for you, but for everyone else.”

“Heh,” she exhaled.

Somewhere around the corner, there was the sound of a door opening and shoes squeaking on the grass. “AJ, I swear, if you don’t stop making fun of me I’ll—”

“You’ll what? Don’t forget I’m the only gal between the two of us who knows how to roll a joint.”

“Dammit, don’t—somebody might hear!”

A chuckle. “Really? Out of everything, this is what you’re embarrassed about? You’re more of a puritan than I thought, Dash.”

“Ughhh, be nice to me!”

“Sit down and I’ll be real nice to you. Hehe.”

Flash looked to Sunset with a glint of amusement in his eye, and the two shared a quiet chuckle. Then, silence fell between them, a silence interrupted only by the intermittent sounds of a lighter clicking.

As she sat there in the fading evening light, Sunset felt an urge somewhere within her to say more, to tell Flash the whole story, everything she’d done with the grisly details and all. It would be so easy, just to let it all pour out, breaking through the dam—and he’d probably just sit there with his arm around her shoulders as she cried, and he’d tell her it was all okay. She really didn’t know why she wasn’t saying more—maybe she was too embarrassed, or felt like it was too much of a burden to put on him, or just didn’t want Fluttershy to come back and hear. But these all seemed like excuses, and Sunset hated making excuses, especially with something like this.

She gulped, and opened her mouth. “Flash, I—”

Suddenly, the side door of the house opened, and a pair of teenagers spilled out onto the porch. Sunset squinted and was able to make out that boy from before—Micro Chips—and he appeared to be doing his best to steady a wobbly-looking girl. “Hey, Sunset!” he called.

“Wait, is that Twilight?” Flash breathed from behind her.

Sunset’s heart skipped a beat. “Okay, hold on, I got this.” She pushed herself up, brushing her jeans off as she walked over. “What’s up?”

“Heyyy Sunset,” Twilight cooed, and as Sunset stepped into the light shining out from inside, she could see the girl was positively flushed. “I feel kinda weird...”

“She’s...” Micro Chips grimaced. “Well, I don’t want to say it, I don’t think—”

“What’m I?” Twilight’s eyes went wide. “What’s up?”

Sunset looked from Micro Chips to Twilight and back again, and she could feel her jaw pulling back with concern. “It was the punch, wasn’t it?”

“Think so, though it definitely wasn’t supposed to be.” Micro Chips sighed. “I’m feeling it a bit too, but not like she is... I dunno, she was kind of getting uncomfortably touchy and I figured I should go find you since you two seem close.”

“...Yeah, thank you for that,” Sunset said. She reached out an arm, taking Twilight’s hand. “How about we go sit down somewhere quiet?”

“Hmm, how come?” Twilight said, her head swooping over to face Sunset. “What are you guys talking about, why won’t you tell me?”

Sunset bit her lip. “Twilight, um...” She squeezed Twilight’s hand, and leaned in close to her ear. “You’re kiiinda tipsy.”

“Well, yeah, I am tipping around a little,” Twilight said loudly, quite matter of fact. “But I don’t know what that has to do with anything.”

Micro Chips facepalmed. “You’re drunk,” he exhaled.

Twilight’s eyes widened, and she gasped. “I’m what?!”

“I don’t waaanna be drunk,” Twilight Sparkle whined drunkenly. Her back was leaned against the white tile wall in front of the toilet; her glasses were off, on the sink counter, and her hair was frazzled from her fingers which couldn’t or wouldn’t stop anxiously leafing through it.

“Well... I can’t really do anything about that, just gotta give it time,” Sunset replied, bemused. Her finger traced a circle on the floor tile beside her crossed legs. “And some more water. You want me to refill your cup?”

Twilight’s eyes seemed unfocused for a moment, before snapping back as she nodded. “Yes please.”

As Sunset grabbed the cup from Twilight and stood, she thanked her lucky stars that her friend had been able to restrain herself from freaking out too bad once she was informed of her current state; that could have gone a lot worse, all things considered. After Twilight had calmed down a bit, she mentioned she was a bit nauseous, so Sunset had steered her over to a bathroom—the one Pinkie and Limestone shared—just in case. Plus it seemed to be doing Twilight good to get away from the loud and hectic rest of the party.

Once the cup was full, Sunset handed it over and Twilight gulped most of it down in just a few moments. Wiping her mouth, Twilight set the cup on the ground by her leg before looking back up. “I... I feel really... strange.”

“I know,” Sunset said, sitting back down. “It’s a weird woozy feeling, especially your first time. Not really like anything else.”

“No, I mean...” She sighed. “I didn’t ever want to... you know. Drink.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Sunset frowned. “I’m really sorry.”

Twilight quickly shook her head. “It’s okay, it’s not your fault—”

“It might not be my fault,” Sunset cut in, “but it definitely isn’t okay.”

“Okay, yeah,” Twilight agreed. “I mean, it’s not as earth-shattering as I thought it would be, it’s not like my whole life has changed, I just... I dunno. I didn’t want this to happen.”

“Yeah. Believe me, more than anyone... I get it.” Sunset took a deep breath, avoiding Twilight’s gaze. “It’s a weird, shitty, messed up feeling, to be thrown into that when you didn’t want to.”

“Mhmm...” Twilight trailed off. She reached her hand out to Sunset, and after a moment, Sunset took it; they sat there for a moment with their hands locked together, squeezed tight, before Twilight let go. “You’re really good at this. Talking me through this, I mean. I... I wish I’d been better for you.”

“What do you mean?” Sunset asked.

“I dunno, last week, I... I guess I’m worried I wasn’t there for you enough, that I just don’t know enough to be helpful for you.” Twilight looked oddly calm, oddly reflective. “Are... are you okay, Sunset?”

Sunset snorted, nodding slowly. “Yeah, yeah I am. You asked me to text you if I had the urge, and... well, I haven’t. I’ve been okay.”

She sat there uncomfortably a moment as Twilight’s eyes wandered, looking her over. But then the other girl’s expression changed; her lips curved, and her eyes leaned into the smile. “Thank you.” She paused, taking a long, deep breath. “Ugh. I still can’t help but feel like this is my fault.”

“How would it be your fault?” Sunset asked.

“I should’ve paid more attention, I guess.” Twilight gave a nervous laugh. “I mean, it’s a high school party with a bunch of people I don’t really know. What’d I expect?”

“That doesn’t make it any more right,” Sunset pointed out.

“Maybe not.” Twilight took another deep breath. “I dunno. I’ll be fine.”

“You sure?”

“Mhmmm.” Twilight smiled, a goofy not-quite-sober tug upwards on her lips. Which, a moment later, straightened back out. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

Sunset blinked. “Uh, yeah? Shoot.”

“Well, actually, nevermind.” Twilight coughed. “I just realised maybe it wasn’t appropriate.”

This made Sunset tilt her head; she really wasn’t sure what it could be. “No, really, go for it. I can’t imagine anything you’d ask that wouldn’t be.”

“Hmm, okay.” Twilight paused for breath. “Is this... is this what it felt like? The drugs you were doing?”

The question blindsided Sunset, and she felt a nervous twitch in her chest as she realised what Twilight was asking. “Um... n-no. Not really. I mean, sort of?” She hummed nervously as she tried to find the words, doing her best to ignore Twilight’s strangely blank look. “It’s... it’s hard to explain.”

“Oh, okay.” Twilight’s expression remained hard to read. “Did it make you feel kinda warm? ’Cause I feel kinda warm.”

Sunset frowned, shaking her head. “No, I... I felt cold. In my bones, it felt like... in the marrow.”

“Hm, okay.” Twilight breathed again. “Sorry if that was weird, I just... I got curious.”

“Oh, no, that’s... it’s fine.” Sunset wasn’t sure what more to say so she didn’t say anything, and a silence fell between them, somewhere between awkward and companionable. Twilight finished the last of her water and then closed her eyes, and Sunset watched as she breathed steadily. They both sat there for a few minutes in relative quiet, with only the distant music from outside lingering in the background.

And then, a couple minutes later, the bathroom door swung open suddenly, and Sunset nearly fell backwards onto the floor. As she steadied herself, she looked up to see the poofy pink hair of their hostess.

“Twilight!” Pinkie exclaimed with a gasp. “Are you okay? Flash told me what happened, and I’m just—I’m so sorry!” She practically leaped over Sunset, somehow gracefully sliding into sitting on her knees, and she took Twilight’s hand before the purple girl had time to protest. “I really didn’t want this kinda thing to happen, especially not under my watch...”

Twilight just shook her head and laughed. “Thank you, Pinkie. I know it didn’t have anything to do with you... and after talking to Sunset, I think I’m gonna be okay.”

Pinkie looked back, her head peeking over her back so that her eyes met Sunset’s. “Oh, hey Sunset! How’re you doing?”

“Good, I think,” Sunset replied, her lips curved. “Or, at least, good if Twilight is.”

“I’m surprisingly okay!” Twilight replied emphatically. “At least for now. I dunno. It hasn’t really registered yet. I’m sure I’ll be freaking out more tomorrow.”

Sunset watched as Pinkie took Twilight’s hand. “Well, don’t you worry your silly head about it! I’ll sit with you here if you want—the party’s winding down, and Rarity’s seeing everyone off.” Pinkie grinned, or at least Sunset was pretty sure she did; the squeak she made was unmistakable.

“That... that’d be nice actually,” Twilight managed. “I’d call my dad to come pick me up, but... I don’t really want my parents to see me like this. They’d be really upset if they found out.”

“I getcha,” Pinkie said, nodding. “And that’s totally fine! We can go watch a movie or something until you feel better, and I can get you some soda or something!”

“Heh, maybe just water,” Twilight replied. “But really, Pinkie... thank you, too.” She paused, looking over Pinkie’s shoulder, and her amethyst eyes met Sunset’s. “You wanna stay, too?”

Sunset bit her lip. “I... I actually kinda think I should be getting home, if that’s okay. I was kinda hoping to walk back, and I wanted to go before it gets too dark.” She stretched out her arms and then stood up, stepping back into the open doorway.

Twilight’s smile faltered for a moment, but she recovered quickly with a nod. “Okay! I should be fine here with Pinkie, anyway.”

“Hopefully more than fine!” Pinkie agreed, giggling. She let go of Twilight’s hand and turned, standing up in front of Sunset. “And again, thank you so much for coming! It really was good to have you here!” Grinning, she leaned in for a hug, which Sunset returned with open arms and a smile of her own. “You’ll be at the next one, right?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Sunset assured her. She held the hug a moment longer before pulling away, and she waved to Twilight once more before stepping out of the bathroom and through Pinkie’s bedroom.

As she walked down the hallway to the foyer, she hummed a simple tune to herself over the sounds of the Rock Band kids still going in the other room. She could hear a trademark Rarity screech at them as she walked out the front door, but she paid it little mind as she slid between the cars on the drive in the faint porchlight and onto the sidewalk, finding herself finally free of it all.

It was dark, with only a sliver of the moon and a few stars overhead, and in this part of town the streetlights were few and far between. Barely any cars passed by, even on this main road, and each one that did sent a shiver down her spine. She kept looking over her shoulder, couldn’t help herself; even though there wasn’t anyone there, maybe someone had been hiding in the shadows, or had turned in from a side street, or anything—rationality couldn’t save her from paranoia. But she went on, because some things are more important.

Once she’d spied the white glow of her destination, she walked even faster, hardly holding back her impulse to break into a run. Then, at the doors, she stopped. They slid open, but her knees locked up and she just stood there, staring inside at the near-empty store and its blinding overhead lights which gave the aisles an unearthly liminal aura.

As she stood there, she remembered something she was told, not long ago. She pulled her phone out from the side pocket of her leather jacket; that she stared at for what felt like even longer, daring herself to turn on the screen and tap out her salvation.

Instead, she stowed the device and walked inside. When she left once more, not ten minutes later, it was with the weight of her sins pulling down at her side.

Author's Note