This Could Be Good

by mothman man

Rating: teen
Tags: Slice of Life, Sad, Romance
Length: 1826

Starlight and Trixie live for each other, but that can be tough when they both want to die.

Starlight and Trixie have both been broken for as long as they can remember, and it's been long enough for them to know that love can't fix everything. Starlight thinks it can still fix some things.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2017-04-11 20:35:47 UTC

Everything Will Be All Right

“I don't want you to go,” Trixie said, spitting the words out, so quickly they almost ran together. For once, Starlight thought, Trixie didn't want to hear herself talk. Trixie grimaced nervously, and directed her gaze to the floor. She and Starlight were sprawled on the bed in Trixie’s caravan next to a greasy purple bowl of popcorn, empty save for blackened kernels. They were surrounded by a royal blue fake-velvet canopy, all light blocked out, save for the softly flickering lantern that floated in the air above them.

“Trixie. That's okay! That's okay, I'm not going anywhere,” Starlight replied. She nudged Trixie’s cheek with her muzzle, and Trixie’s eyes flew open. The lantern shook, and the blue mare giggled.

“Wait! Was I not supposed to do that?” asked Starlight. Trixie buried her face in the pillow, shaking with laughter.

“No, no, I'm sorry. I am just not… The Great and Powerful Trixie has many foibles,” said Trixie. Starlight forced her face into a grin, but when she saw Trixie’s nervous blush, it settled into a real smile.

“So what you're telling me is, you get nervous,” said Starlight. Trixie kicked a pillow across the bed with her hind leg, and it hit Starlight with a soft “pumf”.

“Yes. Maybe. Yes,” Trixie mumbled. Starlight detected an underlying snarl of sarcasm in her voice, a sense of irony. But mostly it sounded like that favorite Trixie standby, fragile pride. Starlight batted her eyelashes, and Trixie raised an eyebrow and snorted.

“Come on, I'm allowed to introduce a little flair every once in awhile. As if you don't, right?” Starlight said. She rolled onto her back, and pointed her eyes at the ceiling. Trixie scooted a little closer, crumpling the fuzzy galaxy-patterned blanket underneath them.

“Oh, you,” said Starlight. Trixie grinned, and fluttered her eyelids.

“I don't just have flair, I have a flair for the dramatic,” said Trixie. Starlight bumped Trixie’s shoulder with her hoof, taking a quiet second to appreciate the blue mare’s soft, springy coat.

“Was there ever any doubt?” asked Starlight. Trixie giggled, the line of worry between her eyebrows dissolving, and lightly cuffed Starlight back. The air smelled thickly of incense, and the sickly sweetness of conjured smoke. The lantern was like an inconsistent moon behind a thick bank of clouds, thought Starlight. Then she wondered where she’d read something like that before.

“How’d I ever find someone like you?” murmured Starlight. Starlight took in the moment, the soft glow, the soft blankets, the warmth of her marefriend next to her. She wondered how she could possibly be someplace so good.

“The same way I did, by making an absolute fool of yourself,” said Trixie.

“Oh, Trixie. You know, if you could—” asked Starlight, before being cut off by Trixie’s coughing fit.

“If you could do it all again,” continued Starlight.

“Sorry… I’ve been using a new spell for the smoke. Er, what were you saying? Starlight felt a lump in her throat, as if she were trying to swallow too much without drinking enough water.

“I, um, do you want me to vanish this smoke?” asked Starlight.

“You can do that?” Trixie said, her eyes widening. Starlight took advantage of the moment to breathe in deeply, and she stretched her face with another intentional smile.

“Y-yes! Of course I can,” she said, and winked in a way that she hoped seemed flirtatious.

Starlight closed her eyes, and focused intensely on a shifting pattern in her mind. She focused on fixing the blur into a sequence of shapes and colors, and strained until they snapped into position. Until they formed a code. Starlight opened her eyes, and the smoke was gone. The flickering light looked like a dying lightbulb, and the little caravan felt like a locked closet. Trixie stared blankly at Starlight through the empty air, and Starlight looked at the tan wooden slats on the floor.

“If you could do it all again,” asked Starlight Glimmer, “do you think you’d do things right?” Trixie dipped her head down to look Starlight in the eye, and Starlight could see Trixie’s lower lip trembling. Starlight’s eyes stung as she turned her head away. She faced the lantern, and watched dark spots blink into her line of vision. It took her a few extra seconds to notice the tears building up in her eyes.

“You know, I… I wouldn’t,” said Trixie, “I wouldn’t even want to be alive if I didn’t have you.” Starlight didn’t look at Trixie, but she spoke. Her voice was choked, cracked, and it had all happened so quickly. She’d opened up the compartment inside her where she held all her guilt, and after it escaped, it had eaten through her in record time.

“When did it… I… when’d it start?” said Starlight. Trixie gathered her hooves under her, looking like she was shrinking into herself.

“When I stopped thinking I could change,” said Trixie.

“But you have changed. I know it hurts so, so badly to not have the ponies you love near you. I know what it feels like to need everyone to love you,” Starlight answered. She looked back down at Trixie, and scooted her hoof towards the other mare’s foreleg.

“Then when did it end, Starlight? Tell me, when did you stop feeling that way?” Trixie asked. Her mouth had into a scowl, and when she looked into Starlight’s teary eyes, it didn’t alter her expression.

“It never did, is that right?” said Trixie. “We’re rotten,” she said, “we’re just bad deep down on the inside. It doesn’t matter what amends I make, or who I’m with. If you used that time spell of yours to send me back to where I was, I’d do the exact same things.” Starlight put a hoof around Trixie.

“No, you wouldn’t. It’s not who you are on the inside, Trixie. It’s not the attention you need deep down, it’s what you actually do. I’ve seen what you do, and it’s not like what you did before,” she said. Trixie jerked away, and the lantern fell to the ground. It shattered in the corner of the caravan, and everything went black. Starlight couldn’t see even the faintest outline of her marefriend, and she could not longer feel her next to her.

But she could hear Trixie’s breathing, which was often interrupted by loud, wet sobs. Starlight stopped trying to stifle her own sniffling, and they sat like that for a good minute. Crying next to each other. When Starlight was about to break the silence, ready to apologize for bringing up such a sensitive topic, Trixie spoke instead.

“Why was I ready to die if you left me when we first met? It wasn’t only thoughts. I’d have done it,” said Trixie. Starlight thought back to one of the first friendship lessons she had received from Twilight, a thought she’d had to carry with her on days where she felt so frustrated and lost she couldn’t bring herself to move.

She remembered how sick she still felt, how crazy. How she felt like one wrong hoofstep could send her a million more steps backwards. How much it all just ached. And Starlight lit the tip of her horn. It was dim, but she and Trixie could see each other’s faces. Each one had puffy eyes, and snot dribbling from their noses. Starlight smiled.

“Because nopony changes all at once. It happens slowly. And I love you, so… I’m all right with giving you some time,” she said.

“Oh,” said Trixie. She breathed in through her nose, and Starlight could hear how clogged it was. Trixie stood up, and Starlight followed. They clattered through the narrow confines of the caravan together, now with their horns both lit.

“What exactly are we looking for?” asked Starlight.

“Tissues,” Trixie replied. Starlight nodded, and followed her marefriend for a moment longer before coming to a sharp halt.

“I can fix the lantern, if you want,” Starlight said. Trixie turned towards Starlight, and offered a small smile.

“The Great and Powerful Trixie may have a slightly better idea,” she said. Trixie strolled over to the window, and threw open the curtains before pulling the window itself open.

“Trixie, it’s… it’s night,” said Starlight, an element of sly humor creeping into her voice.

“Oh, Trixie knows,” Trixie said. Trixie’s horn glowed brighter and more intensely, indicating that she was casting a spell. As sweat beaded on the blue mare’s forehead, Starlight noticed that Trixie wasn’t shooting light out, she was funneling it in. Trixie whipped her head around, her hair swinging in front of her face. She was grinning from ear to ear as a giant, pulsating bright-white bubble exploded in front of her. The caravan shook, but instead of an explosion, Starlight heard a twinkling sound. The caravan was filled with stars.

“Oh my Celestia, Trixie, this is amazing!” said Starlight. Trixie’s mane was mussed, and her eyes were unfocused.

“Isn’t it? Isn’t it?” said Trixie.

“Yes!” said Starlight. She leaned in to kiss Trixie, and Trixie quickly kissed her back before pulling away.

“The Great and Powerful Trixie loves you very much, but she also needs tissues,” she said.

“Whoops! Right, sorry,” said Starlight. Trixie cast her gaze around, until she spotted a box of tissues that she levitated towards her.

“Excellent,” said Trixie, who proceeded to noisily blow her nose. She put the tissue down on the floor, and Starlight teleported it into a nearby wastebasket with a flash of turquoise light. Trixie laughed, and both the mares looked up at the stars on the ceiling.

“That constellation there is Ursa Major,” said Starlight. She looked at Trixie, but her marefriend seemed less excited, more lost in thought.

“Starlight Glimmer… if you could do it all again, would you do things right?” Trixie asked. Starlight breathed in deeply, sucking in the fresh breeze that emanated from the window.

“Trixie, I wanted to hear what you would say because I don’t actually know,” she said.

“As a matter of fact, I don’t think anypony really can. So… why did you ask this question?” asked Trixie, whose gaze was fixed on the Ursa Major constellation. Starlight knew what she was going to say before she even said it.

“Because I wanted you to tell me that I’m a good pony. One that’d never repeat her mistakes,” said Starlight. Trixie laid her head on Starlight’s shoulder.

“Starlight, dear, everypony makes mistakes. I enslaved a town, you enslaved a town, but everypony came out of it all right,” said Trixie.The artificial stars crisscrossed the floor with beams of white light, projecting constellations across Trixie’s furniture, Trixie, and Starlight’s own coat. Starlight felt the lump in her throat rise again, and watched the stars stay steady as she shook her head.

“Well, not to ruin the mood again, but maybe I didn’t start out all right,” she said. Trixie sighed.

“Me neither.”