Who We Are in the Dark

by NaiadSagaIotaOar

Rating: teen
Tags: Romance, Rarity (EqG), Adagio Dazzle, Tragedy, Equestria Girls, Sex, Sunset Shimmer
Length: 11522

Adagio, who everyone knows is an immortal sex goddess, is determined to give her girlfriend a perfect eighteenth birthday. If only she weren't secretly a virgin, it would be easy.

Adagio, who everyone knows is an immortal sex goddess, is determined to give her girlfriend a perfect eighteenth birthday. If only she weren't secretly a virgin, it would be easy.

Preread by Tethered-Angel and forbloodysummer.
Art by imDRUNKonTEA.
An entry for FamousLastWords' Two-Faced Charade contest.

Review by PresentPerfect
Review by PaulAsaran
Author interview

Published 2018-02-26 18:30:06 UTC
Last updated 2018-02-26 18:30:06 UTC

The Natural Beauty of Infidelity

A wide smile and gleaming, starry eyes on Rarity’s face all hinted at excitement and adoration in her heart as she spoke. Once upon a time, those signals would have been superfluous. Her feelings would have manifested as a festival of vivid colors and enticing scents, and her heart would have been bare even if Adagio had a veil over her face and wax sealing her ears.

But then, once upon a time, Adagio had a ruby hanging from her neck. The insights it revealed to her made even the most exaggerated of smiles subtle by comparison, but now those miniscule hints were all she had to work with. When she sat in that candle-lit restaurant, it was practice rather than instinct that made sense of it all and told her how Rarity adored her.

“ ‘…but the best gift of them all is the most beautiful girl in the world, and it’s my delight to say to you all that we’ve been dating for the last, best, three months of my life.’ How does that sound to you?”

“It’s your birthday we’re talking about, isn’t it?” Adagio sipped from her glass of water, gesturing to Rarity. “I wouldn’t mind a little more flattery, but you should say whatever you want to say.”

“I know, I know.” Rarity waved a delicate hand, still beaming. “I just can’t stop thinking about it, though. Honestly, you’ve no idea how hard it was to not spill the beans early.” She covered her mouth with her fingers when she giggled. “I think it’ll be worth it, though. Oh, that day is going to be a dream come true! Granted, a year or two ago I would never have guessed it’d be a queen sweeping me off my feet instead of a prince, but—”

“But you wouldn’t change a thing, would you?” Adagio smirked coyly. “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t either.” The secrecy, she could do without, but how could she turn it down when Rarity spoke of it like that?

Hints of rosy color seeped into Rarity’s pale cheeks. “No, indeed I wouldn’t. It’s… still so hard to believe, sometimes. That we’re here, together, after…”

And to think that it had all started by mending a dress. Such a silly gesture, in the grand scheme of things, but Adagio had worshipped the thing. She’d told herself, for weeks on end, that the night she wore it was going to be nothing but magnificent, but then… Well, not every dream got to come true.

That was what made the ones that did so special.

“Ah, Adagio?”

Rarity’s voice broke Adagio’s concentration. She blinked, and when she looked to the side there was a woman there. Light orange skin, with mulberry curls spilling down her back. She had a smile on her face, but it was so broad, so cheerful. That meant she was… a smile could mean anything, really. Rarity’s were all second nature to her by then, but other people had so much variety to them. Eyes were the next landmark to check, but in the dim light, when they were so small… oh, why couldn’t more people wear makeup like Rarity’s? Adagio frowned. It was so hard to pick the right words, not when she wasn’t sure what—

“W—well?” Rarity gave Adagio a little nudge. “What would you like to eat, darling?”

Of course. How obvious. Adagio cleared her throat, skimmed the menu in front of her, and picked something at random. As soon as she spoke, years of experience kicked in, and she was the most charming, collected woman in the restaurant. She honestly wasn’t sure what it was she’d ordered, but Rarity and the waitress—Adagio could have kicked herself for taking so long to figure it out—both nodded their approval.

“I’ll be right back with your orders!” Another smile. Cheerful? Just placating? It was obscured in an instant by a turn of a head before she could say for certain.

“Thank you, Saffron darling.” Rarity smiled, but hers was like an open book to Adagio, genuine and warm.

“Right,” Adagio said, once the waitress had left with their menus. Moments after that dreadful little stumble, and her voice was right back to its usual buttery smoothness. “Where were we?”

Rarity shot a look that might have been a glare if it were just a bit more forceful. “Everything alright?”

“Yes, of course.” Adagio made a gesture. “You’re just awfully distracting. More so than usual, even.”

“Well, I’d better be, with such stiff competition sitting right across from me. I really have to work if I want to turn any heads when I’m out with you.” Rarity’s voice and demeanor turned light and carefree for a moment, but then she cast another stern look.

Adagio muttered under her breath. It was hardly her own fault that people all had such different faces. “I’m fine. That was the first time this week.” A few months ago she could barely talk to anyone else.

Rarity was still looking at her. That meant she had to keep talking.

But really, the last thing Rarity’s perfect birthday needed was a girlfriend to fret over. No, there wasn’t any room for drama. Not then. “I’m fine,” Adagio repeated. “Really, I am.”

Rarity sighed solemnly, looking down and away. “I know, I know. You are fine. Most of the time. It just… breaks my heart whenever you look at someone else like they’re speaking another language.”

“I’m getting better.”

“Yes, you are. Nobody’s saying you’re not. But would you please consider telling someone else? I just know you’d get so much better if you had another person to practice with. Are you sure you can’t talk to your sisters?”

Adagio scoffed. “The fastest way to make any potentially embarrassing information common knowledge is to ask Sonata to keep it in good confidence, and I can’t imagine Aria giving me advice when she could laugh at me instead.” It felt cruel, speaking of them in that way, but it had been their choice to cling to the past. Moving out had hurt, but every day she got to see Rarity convinced her it was the right decision to move on.

Rarity opened her mouth, doubtless with words on the tip of her tongue ready to creep into the air. Before she could speak, a ringing phone beside Adagio cut her off.

Hissing under her breath, Adagio rummaged through her purse, already giving herself a silent lashing for forgetting to silence the stupid thing. When she saw Sunset’s name on the screen, she groaned. She’d meant to ask her to stop calling one day—not to say being around her wasn’t good fun, but it was hard enough to talk to her sometimes even without her voice being distorted and her face nowhere to be found.

Rarity craned her neck. “How about her? She’s clearly not too busy to talk.”

Adagio pouted at Rarity. “I am.”

“And you’ll be seeing plenty of me tomorrow to make up for it, won’t you?”

“Me and so many others. Dinner with your friends first, then all those other students packed into one room… no, I’m not wasting a second tonight. I’m fine,” Adagio said, turning the phone’s screen black and lifeless and hiding it from view. “Besides, you know how she can worry about her friends, and I don’t want anyone concerned about me the night before a day that’s all about you.”

Rarity closed her eyes, sighing heavily. “Darling, that’s… that’s so sweet of you I can almost overlook how stubborn you’re being.” She looked at Adagio, reaching out to touch her shoulder. “Just… tell someone. Please? For me?”

Adagio rolled her eyes but held up her hands. “Alright. But not tonight, and not tomorrow.”

“The day after tomorrow, then?”

“Yes. The day after tomorrow.”

The smile that crossed Rarity’s face as she pulled back was broad and gleaming and reminded Adagio of exactly why she was worth all the trouble. “That’s all I wanted to hear from you,” she said.

“I’m glad you’re satisfied.” Adagio lifted her glass to her lips again, swallowing another mouthful of water, then set it aside, looked into Rarity’s eyes, and smiled. “Now, let’s just stop talking about all that for now, shall we? We’re here to enjoy ourselves, after all.”

The nights had tended to seem far too short to Adagio in the recent weeks. Hours blurred by when she thought only minutes had passed. By the time she pulled her up outside Rarity’s house, she could hardly believe it was already over.

“Here we are,” she said. She stepped out, circled around to open the passenger door, and ushered Rarity into the night air.

“Already?” Rarity pouted as she stepped out, but the expression was so blatant that Adagio knew it to be feigned. “Tomorrow night can’t come soon enough, then. I did remember to give you that dress I made for you, didn’t I?”

Adagio nodded. “Best one you’ve made for me yet.”

Rarity chuckled, playing with her hair. “Can’t have the party of my dreams without my girlfriend looking the part, can I?” She giggled again.

Adagio might have rolled her eyes if Rarity hadn’t seemed so happy. “You’ll see me in it tomorrow, then.”

“Yes. Yes, of course.” Rarity started to turn towards her house, only to pause. “Ah, there… there was actually one more thing.” She breathed, clasping her hands together. Color came creeping back into her cheeks. “So, I was talking to my parents the other day, and they finally decided that this is the very last night of my curfew.”

Adagio felt her pulse quicken. She remembered a conversation from a few weeks ago—she’d been over, late one night, helping Rarity study; Rarity had been half-asleep at the time, and it just… slipped out.

In the present day, Adagio saw several things on Rarity’s face. Anxiety, for one, but also excitement, and the pair hinted at scandalous thrills running through the girl’s head.

The cold dread Adagio felt creeping up on her—Rarity could look so pitiful when she was disappointed, and often did such a poor job of hiding it, even to one as blind to that kind of thing as Adagio—never once made it to her face. She was calm on the outside, the very image of sensual elegance. “Is that so? You sound awfully excited.”

“I am! Don’t you realize?” Rarity slid closer, throwing her arms around Adagio’s neck. “After all this time, we can finally spend the whole night together!” She stopped herself, frowning. “Oh, that’s… not a problem for you, is it? I’d assumed it wouldn’t be—well, not much of anything, really, not for someone as… experienced, let’s say as you, but—”

“N—no, I’m… looking forward to it.” Adagio slipped her arms around Rarity’s waist, drawing her close, leaning down to whisper in her ear. “Just between the two of us, I’d be fine skipping the party and cutting right to the chase.”

Rarity’s eyes widened, and a shiver rattled through her whole body; those kinds of reactions, deep and full of desire, were always a treat to see unfold. She looked into Adagio’s eyes, helplessly enamored. “I always expect the best from you, and you’ve never once let me down, you know that?”

In the back of Adagio’s head, a resounding “not yet” rang out. On the front of her head, the sly smile that played on her lips came instinctually. “Only for a lack of trying, you realize. But you should go and get some rest. Can’t have a perfect birthday without a good night’s sleep.” Conventional wisdom said she had to stop there, but what was the harm in just one more coaxing? “I’d offer to keep you company, but let’s wait until we have a house to ourselves, shall we?”

And, sure enough, the look that came over Rarity’s face was delicious, almost shamefully so. “Yes, of—of course.” Rarity reluctantly slipped away, a vacant, starry-eyed gaze occupying her face. She cleared her throat, blurted out a little jumbled stammer, and hurried over to the doorstep, pausing with her hand on the doorknob to look at Adagio one more time.

Adagio blew her a kiss and winked. “Good night.”

With that, she turned slowly on her heel, slowly sauntered back around to the car door, and slipped inside, glancing out the window just in time to see the entrance to Rarity’s house pulled shut.

Then, finally left to herself, Adagio’s arms, that had been steady as sculpted marble around Rarity’s waist, turned to quivering jelly. She could hear her pulse hastening, feel her breaths turning haggard.

Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid.

A handful of words could have set it all straight, if she’d said them a few weeks ago. So why hadn’t she? Was poking a tiny hole in the image Rarity was so clearly infatuated with so severe a wound that it was worth so much grief to keep it covered? Was milking someone for a little more adoration worth digging the hole she was in deeper and deeper?

And now it was all too late, wasn’t it? Rarity’s expectations had been high to begin with, but weeks of speculation and wonder had evidently thrust them clear above the clouds, and Adagio had just about twenty-four hours to become a timeless master at an art she’d never touched in her entire life, or else Rarity’s dream would end with a crushing disappointment.

Stupid. So, so, so, stupid.

But what was there to be done about it? Problems gleamed like the brightest mirrors, doubly so with the benefit of hindsight, but solutions had no such luster.

She pressed her fingers to her temple, breathing deeply, trying to clear her head. What was done was done. If she could just stop getting so worked up over it—

Well, the way things were going, she’d probably spontaneously immolate. That seemed just as likely as her ever finding any tranquility that night.

Thudding against the back of her seat, she groaned, letting her head loll and her body go limp.

Her eyes idly dragged over to her purse, and she groaned again when she remembered that—because the night simply wasn’t ever going to get any better, was it?—she had a phone call to return.

She hated those things. All that garbling, all that baffling detachment… she couldn’t imagine how humans had put up with those things for as long as they had.

Hating something else would at least give her a different outlet, though. That could only be a good thing, couldn’t it? She leaned over, fumbled with her phone, and eventually held it to her ear.

“Hi, Sunset. This is Adagio. You called me earlier?”

“H—hi.” Sunset’s voice came through the speaker, mangled and muddled and obfuscating in all the worst ways.“Yeah, that. I… it’s, y’know, not that important, I guess. Sorry, you’re not busy, are you?”

“I was.” Adagio rubbed at her forehead again. She was never sure how to properly pitch her voice over the phone, so it always sounded cold and lifeless to her ears. “Did you need something?”

“ ‘Need’ might be a little strong. Besides, you’ll be at Rarity’s party tomorrow anyway, right?”

Adagio frowned, pinching at her nose. “So there was something you wanted to say, then?” She didn’t like having to clarify like that, but it was better to be certain when she didn’t have a face right in front of her.

“Yeah, kinda. It, um… like I said, it’s not a big deal, but it’s a little… complicated, I guess.”

Just her luck, she picked the one night someone had a whole lot to say to her. But at the same time, when she noticed her thoughts drifting back to the Rarity situation… “Could I come over, then? I’d like to talk face-to-face, if that’s alright with you.”

“Sure, yeah! I’m not going anywhere tonight, so just stop by whenever.”

“I’m on my way, then. See you soon.” She all but tossed her phone back onto the car’s floor, making one last mutter to herself. At least she’d calmed down a little bit.

If she chose to be optimistic, though, maybe some time with Sunset was exactly what she needed that night. It probably wasn’t going to be that big a deal anyway. No, just a quick jaunt over to take her mind off of things so she could relax. Didn’t that sound wonderful?

The drive wasn’t a long one, but neither was it as relaxing as she might have hoped. She still found her thoughts drifting back to Rarity periodically, whether she willed them to or not. By the time she arrived at her destination and came to a halt, she still hadn’t reached the calm she wanted.

That worried her. The way she’d stumbled a little with the waitress… no. No, she wouldn’t do that again. “It’s Sunset,” she whispered, leaning back, closing her eyes, rubbing at her brow. “Just Sunset. You’re fine. Relax.”

She stepped out of her car, shoving the door closed, leaning against it and breathing. Giving her head a shake, silently scolding herself for making such a fuss about it all, she made her way up towards the house. She could forget about Rarity for a little while. The notion left an uncomfortable feel when she tried to indulge it, but she told herself that it was just for a few hours. When the sun rose again, she could let Rarity back into her thoughts.

But for now? Now she just needed some distance.

When she reached Sunset’s doorstep and still felt warmth in her face, she came to a pause, breathing one last time to calm herself. She couldn’t have Sunset worrying about her, after all.

And so, when she knocked on the door, she fancied herself the very image of serenity.

Then the door opened, and there was Sunset. Bright eyes, gleaming smile, relaxed posture… but then she frowned. It was such a small thing, that frown, but then those eyes darted about, flitting over Adagio for a moment. “H—hi,” Sunset said, pausing to clear her throat. “You, um… look nice. Nicer than usual, I mean. What’s the occasion?”

Adagio paused, glancing down at herself. She didn’t really look that different, did she? Sure, she might’ve been a tad more careful with her makeup that morning, but… what did that have to do with anything?

And what was that look on Sunset’s face? There was something about it, some strange, formless little something that she could feel but not see, and…

No. No, that wasn’t the time. She shook her head as discreetly as she could, and focused on Sunset’s face again. She could do it. She was fine.

Smile meant happiness—probably. Frown meant… confusion? Nervousness? No, couldn’t be either of those things. Why would it be?

She could feel her pulse quickening. When she looked a third time, it was like a shroud had fallen over Sunset’s face—vague features popped out at her, but only murky details.

“Adagio? Is everything alright?” Sunset shifted slightly where she stood, and the sudden movement and sound made Adagio gasp softly, and that made Sunset frown again. “Are you okay?”

“Y—yes, I just—” Adagio’s tongue fumbled aimlessly for a minute. She took a long, deep breath. She was fine. She could do it, just… “Sorry, would you mind if I…” She looked past Sunset into the house. “… went to powder my nose for a moment?”

Sunset hesitated only for a moment, biting her lip, before stepping aside and waving Adagio in. “Sure, yeah. Take your time. I’ll, um… I’ll be here when you’re done.”

“Thanks.” Adagio hurried past Sunset, darting into the bathroom as quickly as she felt was appropriate, pulling the door shut behind her. Once she was alone, she pressed her fingers to her temples and resisted the urge to pull her hair out.

The… Rarity thing, it must have had her on edge, more flustered than she’d first thought.

Rarity wasn’t there. She was as far from Rarity and all that as she could be. There wasn’t anyone else in the world, as far as she was concerned. Just her. Just Sunset. Nobody else mattered.

But Sunset had noticed her little stumble. She’d want an explanation or something, wouldn’t she? Maybe she wouldn’t say that out loud, not if a different topic were to be pursued, but she’d be thinking it.

Adagio sighed. She felt like a mess, like the whole night had conspired to tear her down as much as it could. But, when she looked into the mirror again, it was oddly reassuring to see how perfectly put-together she still was. If one only looked at her from the outside, in that one static moment, one would never think there was a single problem vexing her.

She could do it. Just make it through the night without slipping up again. She’d have to say something to Sunset, but… well, she could figure that out as she went. Nobody said she had to open up about everything.

Breathing deeply, she turned and twisted the doorknob. She could do it. She was fine.

When she stepped back into the living room, Sunset was there, waiting for her.

“Okay, ready to tell me what’s going on?” Sunset’s smile was small, and her posture relaxed. That meant she was… happy? No, not quite that; she wouldn’t be happy to see one of her friends struggling. Welcoming, though. Inviting.

The ease with which those insights came helped rein in Adagio's nerves. “I guess.” She nodded slowly, moving to join Sunset on the couch. Once there, she bit her lip and let out a long sigh. She couldn’t tell the whole truth, not just yet, but… Sunset would worry about her more if she said nothing.

Symptoms, then. Symptoms, but not causes—those could wait. She let out a small, dry chuckle, peering down at her hands and fidgeting with her fingers. “It’s going to sound so silly, isn’t it?” she murmured, more to herself than Sunset.

“Maybe. Maybe not. And if it were really silly, it wouldn’t be bothering you, would it?”

“I guess not.” Adagio breathed. She’d be fine. She knew she would. “I’m… in love.”

There was a pause, ever so slight. “Oh! Wow, that’s—” Sunset laughed, chuckling softly, but when Adagio looked at her there was something just a tiny bit off about her smile. Maybe it wasn’t as bright as she’d expected, but then maybe surprise had dampened what might have been a joyous reaction.

And it passed quickly. “That’s great, isn’t it?” Sunset shifted her posture slightly, leaning against the back of the couch and facing Adagio more directly. “Anyone I know?”

“Yes, actually.” Adagio nodded, giggling softly, picturing Rarity’s face. The image made her smile, and combined with Sunset’s air of lazy calm, she felt her worries melting away. “She’s been nothing but kind to me, the entire time I’ve known her.”

Those worries came creeping back quickly. Rarity wanted to make the announcement herself, didn’t she?

No names, then. She could manage that.

“It’s a her?”

“Y—yes.” Adagio frowned. “What are you—”

“Oh, just, you know…” Sunset laughed again, and her cheeks looked a tad redder than before. “Trying to have some sympathy for all the poor guys you’re going to disappoint when they find out.”

Adagio chuckled, shrugging and tossing her hair. “Ah, well, spend a few hundred years breaking hearts… it’s a difficult habit to change.”

“I bet.” Sunset leaned in a little. There was faint twinkle in her eyes, something… in between curiosity and hope, Adagio decided. “So, you have to tell me who it is now, right?”

Adagio gave a coy smirk in return. “And ruin the surprise?”

“Fine, be that way.” Sunset backed away, holding up her hands, but her smile remained a playful one. “Okay, so you’ve got some secret crush. What’s the problem?”

“It’s…” Adagio glanced away. It surprised her how natural she felt it would be to slither her way out with a lie. Old habits indeed, but she liked to think she’d moved on from all those. “It’s a little complicated. Isn’t it always?”

“It wouldn’t be worth doing if it were easy, would it? Have you talked to her?”

“Yes. Yes, I have. Tonight, actually.”

Sunset frowned at first, but then her face brightened. She shifted a little bit closer. “Okay. And…?”

“Well, she puts me on such a high pedestal.” Adagio paused, remembering vividly the starstruck looks and dreamy sighs and nervous, girlish giggles that seemed to flow without end from Rarity when they were together. “In her eyes, I’m charming and glamorous and gorgeous and all these things—”

“Can you name a person who’s met you and thinks you aren’t?”

Adagio chuckled. “Fair point. But, the thing is, this person…” She sighed, leaning against the back of the couch, looking up at the ceiling. “Oh my goodness, it sounds so stupid the more I think about it.”

“Hey, it’s okay.” Sunset slid closer, touching Adagio gently on the shoulder. “I mean, if it’s really bugging you then it shouldn’t really matter whether it’s stupid or not, right?”

“You make it sound so straightforward.” Adagio looked not quite at Sunset, quirking her lips and shifting uncomfortably where she sat. “No, she… doesn’t know I’m a virgin.”

“What? Really? All this time, you’ve never… not once?” Sunset paused and cleared her throat. “Ah. Hmm. I can see why that’d be a problem.”

“You’d never guess it looking at me, I know,” Adagio drawled, then sighed again. “But this person, I’ve heard her talking about me. About what it would be like to… I’m sure you know where this is going.”

Splashes of color bloomed on Sunset’s cheeks. “Ah. Yeah, that’d, um…” She looked away, towards the ground, rubbing anxiously at the back of her neck. “I can see how that would bother you. But, you know, I—” She blinked, squeezing her mouth shut, then looking back to Adagio’s eyes. “This person, whoever she is, if she’s worth being with, she’ll understand, right?”

“She would. I know she would. It’s just that she’s done so much for me…” Mended dresses, nights that might otherwise have been only desolate, beautiful faces that had once been masses of brambles and hidden thorns… all those things and more drifted through Adagio’s mind. “I badly wish I could give her the perfect night I know she wants, and I can’t. I—I wouldn’t know how, I’d be awkward and haphazard and… ordinary.” And how was that right, that an exceptional girl who’d done remarkable things got an ordinary reward at the end of her night?

Sunset started to move, and opened her mouth, but then she frowned, and went still and silent; her sudden melancholy was a riddle Adagio couldn’t see through right away, and just when she thought she might have unraveled it, it was yanked away and earnest, straightforward kindness took its place.

But what had that been, that came before the soft, kind-hearted smile Sunset now wore? Sadness? That was what it looked like, but what place did sorrow have in Sunset just then?

Or was it just concern? That didn’t quite seem right to Adagio, but she couldn’t fathom anything else.

“You’re not ordinary. I hope she can recognize that. But I guess I can kinda see where you’re coming from,” Sunset said, at last. Her cheeks still red, she dipped her eyes away from Adagio’s. “Well, um… I mean, if you’d like, I could give you a few pointers, but—”

Adagio frowned. “You’ve…” She blinked twice, trying to process it. Sunset, of all people? In all the times they’d seen each other, she couldn’t once remember a time she’d seemed interested in another girl. That way, at least.

Sunset let out a nervous chuckle. “Uh… few times, yeah. Nobody from the school, just… y’know, people.” She waved her hand. “But, really, there’s no substitute for experience, you know?” She paused again, and her eyes dipped down, wandered… lingered, somewhere below Adagio’s face. Then they went wide, snapped back up to meet Adagio’s, and Sunset cleared her throat. “You’ll… be better at it the more you practice and all that, right?”

Again Adagio frowned. Had Sunset just—no, that wouldn’t have made any kind of sense. Why would she have—she knew that she fancied someone else, didn’t she?

But that way she’d just looked at her… it had been appreciative. Admiring, like a connoisseur examining a piece of sensual artwork. That look, she knew.

“Sunset, did you… did you just ask to—”

Sunset froze suddenly. A stream of half-formed sounds stumbled out of her for a moment, and she pulled back abruptly. “Oh, I didn’t—” She held up her hands, biting her lip again, but then she paused, gave Adagio a long look—her eyes didn’t quite stay focused that time either, but rather seemed eager to meander. “I mean…” Sunset pursed her lips, sighing and shrugging. “Look, Adagio, you’re… really hot, and, you know, I wouldn’t say no. But—if you’ve got your eye on someone else, I would never want to get in your way.”

Adagio blinked. This time it was her eyes that moved as if of their own accord, gliding down from Sunset’s face and seeing what the other girl had to offer. But then her thoughts leapt to Rarity, and she stopped herself, because she couldn’t. Of course she couldn’t.

But what was the alternative? If she said no, then… just thinking about ending Rarity’s birthday with such an awkward letdown made her heart hammer away in her chest.

Did she need to, then? Maybe, on some level.

But she couldn’t. Not with someone else. She was committed to Rarity, and—and Sunset knew that, didn’t she? Or she knew that her interests lay with someone else, at least, and she’d just said that she’d never get in the way. So if she’d suggested it…

Then it had to have been something physical. Nothing more. A union of flesh with the hearts kept distant from one another. One night, no more, nothing bleeding into the day, all in exchange for… maybe not quite the night of Rarity’s most lurid dreams, but as close as what seemed within reach.

Sunset groaned, rubbing at her temples, bowing her head. “Oh my gosh, I can’t… okay, can you just forget everything I just said? I’m sorry, it’s just… some stupid thing…”

Adagio paused, chewing on her lip. “No, that…” She drew in a deep, long breath. Nerves ran rampant through her, hitching her breath and heating her cheeks. Through it all, though, she managed to find a calm. She was doing what she needed to do. Nothing more.

She reached out, touched Sunset’s cheek, and nudged it until their eyes met. “That actually sounds just about perfect to me.”

“But your…” Sunset paused, frowned, and tilted her head. Her mouth hung open for a moment, and then, slowly, bent into a grin as her eyes brightened. “Oh. Wow, I…” She chuckled. This time, it was a light, giddy sound that escaped her lips. “O—okay, sure. Yeah, I’m down.” She looked Adagio over again, less abashedly this time, then slowly moved forward. A long breath made her body shiver, but when she put both her hands on Adagio’s shoulders, she brought nothing but heat. From the fingertips pressing into Adagio’s skin through her dress, and the slow breaths caressing her face and the eyes that slowly started to smolder…

It was exhilarating. Every second of it. Whatever tension, whatever fears Adagio might have had, they were quick to leave her. Maybe, in some ways, it would be better to break away, but when it just felt so good to relax and go along with it…

Was that how she made Rarity feel, earlier that night? Was that the kind of thrill that came with being swept away by a more experienced lover?

“In that case…” Sunset glanced over her shoulder at the stairs, and had a coquettish grin on her face when she turned back to Adagio. “Why don’t I take you upstairs, get you out of that dress and show you a few things?”

Adagio could hear her heart racing, and faint traces of fear mixed with the excitement, but she eagerly embraced it all, leaning against Sunset, looking at her with half-lidded eyes. “Lead the way.”

Adagio awoke, caught up in a delightfully lazy haze. She was dimly aware of disheveled bedsheets haphazardly draped over her, barely reaching up past her waist. A soft golden glow of morning sun winked at her through a window. Naked skin touched against hers; legs intertwined with her own, an arm looped around her shoulders. When she laid her head down, she could faintly hear a heartbeat, and feel the slow rises and falls of another chest.

She laid there for a little while, silent and still. The rest of the world may as well have been frozen in time, she cared so little for it all.

Suddenly, she felt the body pressed against hers shifting and stretching. A slow breath of air caressed her face, and shining eyes of vibrant teal fluttered open in front of her.

“ ‘Morning, sexy,” Sunset sighed. Her lips shaped into a soft smile. “How was it?”

Invigorating. Satisfying. It felt like an itch that had been plaguing Adagio for as long as she could remember had finally been soothed. “Wonderful,” she murmured.

“I’m glad.” Sunset laughed. It was a light, relaxing chuckle. “You really hit your stride towards the end there, you know.”

Adagio smirked. The praise, small though it might’ve been, still made her pulse quicken in a good way. “Don’t sound so surprised. You were a good teacher.” Her thoughts turned back to Rarity, just then. The prospect of… spending a night with her, it didn’t seem nearly so daunting. She lifted her head a little, craning her neck until she saw a clock on a nightstand. “But… we have a party to be getting to, don’t we?”

Sunset followed her gaze, then smiled coyly. “Not for a few hours, we don’t.” Her eyes dipped down from Adagio’s, and one of her hands started to wander, snaking down towards Adagio’s hips, pressing them together a little more closely. “Plenty of time to squeeze a little more practice in.”

“You…” Adagio’s breath hitched. She felt that electrifying thrill coming back, the same ragged breaths and racing pulse that Sunset had gotten out of her the night before. “You make it sound so tempting,” she gasped.

“I do my best.” Sunset looked at Adagio with half-lidded eyes, then chuckled again. Her hand came to rest on the small of Adagio’s back, and she drew Adagio closer still by the shoulders. “But this is nice too, isn’t it?”

It was a strange blend of simultaneous relief and disappointment that Adagio felt just then. “Yeah. Yeah, it is.” She let herself relax again, resting her head on Sunset’s shoulder, biting her lip. She hated not knowing what to expect, or whether or not things were supposed to go the way the were. Centuries of experience, and still she was flying blind.

But if she had to describe how she felt just then, “dissatisfied” was the last one she’d think of.

And they did have plenty of time, didn’t they? Sunset, she must have… wanted to savor the experience, right? She knew that she likely wasn’t going to get another moment like that one, so it was natural that she’d want to draw it out, wasn’t it?

So what was the harm in indulging her?

“You know…” Sunset’s voice came softly, barely louder than a whisper. “I’m really glad that you came over last night.”

Adagio frowned. There was something about the way Sunset spoke, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. She shifted a little, so that she could see Sunset’s face more directly. “Is… is that so?”

“Yeah.” Sunset’s cheeks started to color, and she made a nervous little chuckle. “It feels so silly, now that I’m looking back at it, but…” Her smile turned to a tender one, and she brought one of her hands up to gently cup Adagio’s cheek. “I’ve wanted this for a little while now.”

Before Adagio had time to figure out what all that meant, Sunset shifted. She swiveled slightly so that she laid on top of Adagio instead of beside her. Her lips first brushed against Adagio’s, all soft and warm like a pillow of sunlight tickling her face, then they lowered and turned into a honied brand—sweet and delicious and enticing while the contact persisted, but when they lifted they left little but dread and unanswered questions.

“I love you, Adagio.”

Adagio blinked. Once.

Twice.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Is something wrong?”

Adagio finally finished scrambling back into her panties—stupid things always managed to get bunched up, no matter how smooth her legs were—and turned around. Sunset was still sitting on the bed, frowning. Her face was… oh, what was that face she was making? Confused, was that it? Maybe a little bit desperate? She looked smaller as well, far less composed than normal—but that was probably just because she was still naked. Yes, probably that.

“Ah, um…” Adagio tried to ignore the flustered heat in her face and the anxious nerves lurking in the back of her mind ready to pounce. She couldn’t remember a time in her life she’d felt more out of her depth. Turning back away, she glanced down and suddenly let out a relieved little sigh. Dipping down, she snatched up her bra from under the bed.

From the look on Sunset’s face, she probably wasn’t doing what she was supposed to, but what other option was there? Sunset had been an anchor of sanity amongst the whirlwind of hitherto unfelt sensations that was the night, but clearly that guidance didn’t spill over so much into the morning.

“N—no, no,” Adagio blurted, shaking her head, ready to slap herself. She darted over to her wrinkled dress, fussing with it and trying to remember how it was meant to be put on. “Look, I just—I need to go and… you know—” she made a vague gesture with one hand “—fluff my hair. It’ll look horrid if I don’t get an hour with it. But…” she racked her brain for any glimmer of insight. “… I’ll call you? Or you’ll call me?” No, that was stupid. “Call me a cab, I mean. Can you call a cab to pick me up on the street in ten minutes?”

There was a pause. “Didn’t you drive here?”

Oh. Had she?

Yes, yes she had. Stupid. What was she thinking?

“Right. You’re right, I did.” Adagio finally managed to jump back into her dress—she was fairly certain it looked blatantly disheveled, but whatever, she was technically modest if one ignored the undergarment dangling from her hand. “Um… no cab, then?” She nodded, more to herself, shaking her head to try and clear it.

When no response came right away, Adagio flitted over to where her shoes lay, squeezed into them, and clambered over to the door. “I’ll… see you at the party?” She looked back over her shoulder, felt a small dreadful pang when she could barely figure out what Sunset’s face meant, and hurriedly backed out the door. “Right. Goodbye!”

If her own thoughts were a scourge, her back would have been a canvas of red by the time she made it out to her car. Every word she’d just said came trickling back into her head, and at once she knew both that they were terrible choices and that she hadn’t a clue what else she could have done.

A part of her said she shouldn’t have been so surprised. Braving new ground was exactly what Sunset had offered to help her with, and every anchor had to be stowed eventually.

She breathed deeply as she placed her trembling hands on the wheel. Fine. It was all fine, that’s what she told herself. The next morning, she’d—well, Rarity wouldn’t surprise her, at the very least, not like Sunset just had. No, she’d made it past the part she’d needed to, learned what she needed to play her part in Rarity’s perfect birthday.

That was… that was worth a little embarrassment, wasn’t it?

Her thoughts crept back to Sunset’s face. Something about it haunted her, something she couldn’t put words to, and then a sinking uneasiness coiled and churned in her gut. She hated not knowing.

But what was there to be done about it? Sunset, she… she was just… Those four words she said would’ve had so much importance if Rarity said them, but Sunset? No, she wouldn’t have meant them that way, would she? Not if she knew that the one she’d said them to longed for another.

Adagio pressed her fingers to her temple, growling a curse under her breath. Everything was fine, she told herself. That look on Sunset’s face, whatever it was, it wasn’t a look of pain. It couldn’t have been.

Confusion. That must have been it. Sunset had expected a different response, and hadn’t gotten it. It was like she’d… held out her hand and not had it shaken. Or something.

“Just focus on the party,” she murmured to herself, strapping herself in, gripping the wheel, and breathing. She had a few hours to get ready for dinner, and Rarity didn’t want a nervous wreck, did she?

A warm shower, two hours straight of fussing with her hair and makeup—it had all been perfect the first time, of course, but some days that just didn’t seem good enough—and a clean dress had done wonders for her by the time she stepped one stiletto-clad foot in a door and scanned the tables until she saw Rarity. Nobody else had shown up yet, of course. They were early, both of them.

She could do it. Just a few more hours of being as perfect as she could be, that was all it would take. Rarity would get her party and a close approximation of her night, and at the end of it all she’d fall asleep in Adagio’s arms with that unique, wonderful satisfaction of having seen a dream come true.

Somewhere in the back of her head, all those faces Sunset had made and all those strange things she’d said lingered, nagging at her like little weights trying to drag her down into dreary depths.

The breathless, starstruck look that Rarity greeted her with cast them all aside. “Darling, you—” Rarity made a fawning little giggle, craning her neck, making a gesture.

Carefully putting an alluring smile on her face, Adagio twisted and turned, letting Rarity see the dress from different angles. “You look surprised,” she said.

“I didn’t think it would look that much better in person. I expected it’d be… striking, stunning, not… breathtaking.”

Off to a good start. Adagio felt her heart flutter as she sat beside Rarity. “It’s a special day, isn’t it? I didn’t want to look my best, obviously, but I think this is as close as I could get without stealing the spotlight.”

Rarity nodded vacantly, dreamy eyes wandering. “For once, I don’t think I’d mind if you had.” She reached out idly, running her fingers over the fabric, tugging at the neckline, seeing how it all fit.

Adagio cocked an eyebrow, making sideways glances towards the door. “Careful, now. If your friends see you touching me like that, you might ruin the surprise.”

There was a noticeable hesitation before Rarity drew back, pouting and sighing. “You’re right, you’re right.” She looked Adagio over again, and sighed wearily. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to restrain myself that long.”

Catching a glimpse of a distinctively well-worn hat outside the window, Adagio abruptly straightened, nudging Rarity away. “You’d better get a move on it,” she said.

“Howdy, Rarity,” Applejack said, grinning and waving cheerfully as she made her way over, cocking an eyebrow as she met Adagio’s eyes, then eying Rarity. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

Rarity looked to Adagio a bit too quickly. “What? No, no, it’s fine. We just… both thought we’d come a little early, that’s all.”

“Uh-huh.” Applejack fingered a chair, but didn’t pull it out just yet, instead peaking back at the door over her shoulder. “I’m just saying, if you’d like me to leave you two alone for a spell—”

Rarity groaned, rubbing at her forehead. After a moment, she breathed deeply and looked up at Applejack. “Was it that obvious?”

Applejack shrugged. “You do spend a lot of time together.”

Adagio frowned, studying Applejack carefully. She was just about to ask what was going on when Rarity shook her head, sighed and looked at her. “I suppose we might as well just tell them all now, then?”

Tell them all… the realization didn’t come quickly, but it came just the same. Adagio gave a nonchalant shrug. “If you’d like.”

Rarity let out an exasperated sigh, then transitioned into a light giggle. “Oh well. It was a nice bit of fun while it lasted, wasn’t it?”

Applejack chuckled as she sat down. “How long?”

“Three months,” Rarity said. “Oh, I had this whole speech planned and everything…”

Adagio leaned over and touched her shoulder. “You’ll still surprise most of them.”

Rarity shot her a fond smile in reply. “That I will.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to be left alone? Nobody else’s—” Applejack craned her neck. “Oh, wait, there’s Twilight.”

Sure enough, Twilight hurried inside, as awkwardly cheerful as ever as she came over to join them all. Adagio resisted the urge to grimace. Two other faces to keep track of could get confusing enough, but three? And more?

But she had to do it. She could fade into the background a little if necessary, try to keep to herself. Rarity understood, of course. She always did.

The other girls arrived one by one in the next few minutes. Fluttershy, then Pinkie, then Rainbow Dash…

Then Sunset.

She looked… haphazard, in a word. It was far from catastrophic—a few strands of hair that clearly weren’t where she wanted them to be, hints of bags under her eyes—but Adagio noticed those first few discrepancies and more soon followed.

“H—hi, guys,” Sunset said. She smiled quickly, but the way she looked at everyone except Adagio was impossible to miss. “Sorry, I’m not late, am I? Just… you know, busy morning and all that.”

Adagio felt her pulse quicken. Sunset didn’t make it too obvious, but she seemed nervous, and that made Adagio wonder. Had she done something wrong? There was something about the way Sunset acted that she knew meant something important, but for the life of her she couldn’t put it into words.

She gulped, leaning forward a little to look at Sunset. “Is something wrong? You… don’t look well.”

Sunset looked at her, briefly. “Oh, it’s… it’s nothing, really.” She waved her hand, chuckling softly. “Just a little tired, that’s all.”

Adagio couldn’t help but think that there was so much more to it than that, but long before she could ever voice anything, Rarity cleared her throat and shifted all the attention to her.

“Well, in that case, since you’re all here, there was something I wanted to tell you all. I was thinking about saving it for the party proper, but…” Rarity pointedly looked to Applejack, gesturing to her with a hand. “Someone convinced me to take the leap early.” She breathed deeply, and Adagio’s heart raced. Everything would be perfect. It had to be. “Now, I know this might come as a surprise to some of you, but, these last three months have been nothing but wonderful, and…” She looked to the side, cast a fond smile towards Adagio, reached out and touched her hand. “I think I have my girlfriend to thank for that.”

Adagio averted her eyes just slightly, then frowned. Everything was supposed to be perfect. It had to be.

And, indeed, much of it was. She saw a few smiles that weren’t quite surprised but more than happy enough to make up for it, one or two wide-eyed faces… everything about it made her heart flutter for a single moment.

But why did Sunset look like she’d just struck by lightning?

She didn’t say anything, not right away. Her mouth hung open, and her eyes glued themselves to Adagio—not her face, though, just her general location—and her face turned pale.

And then, finally, she looked straight into Adagio’s eyes, and Adagio saw a wounded heart she could neither fathom nor deny.

“Why didn’t you tell me that last night?”

Silence. Dead, desolate silence fell over the table, like Sunset had opened a door and pulled them all into a graveyard. Adagio stared, trying to make sense of it all; Sunset’s question was a simple one, but her voice and face turned it into something jagged and mystifying.

“Last night?” Rarity’s brow knit and furrowed. “What do you… Adagio, what’s she talking about?”

Adagio could hardly manage to move. She just stared at Sunset, peering at a face that had grown so tangled and twisted so quickly, pleading for it to give her more answers. The right words were there, somewhere. They had to be. Even if she had done something wrong, there—there must have been something that she could—

A hand shook her shoulder. “Adagio?” Rarity, once she’d closed her gaping mouth, stared back at Sunset, barely failing to conceal a faint tremble of her hand as she waved it. “Girls, give us the room, if you wouldn’t mind.”

Worried looks and helpless, wordless shrugs were exchanged all over the table. Applejack was the first to respond, standing up, silently ushering the others to do the same.

“Alright,” Rarity said once the three of them were alone. Her voice was strained, wavering slightly, but the cracks in her composure were kept small and easy to miss. “Tell me what happened, both of you.”

Adagio looked between the two other girls. One glimpse at Rarity’s face conjured images of broken dreams, fantasies shattered so suddenly and so forcefully that there was little hope for them to be mended.

When she looked back at Sunset, she saw something similar. Fears and doubts came bubbling back to the surface, oozing up from the deepest reaches of her mind. She looked back and forth, heart racing, caught between a face marred by incomprehensible anger wrought by a sin she couldn’t name and a face so far removed from the starry smiles she wanted to see that it brought her pain to behold it.

What was she supposed to say? What was she supposed to do?

“Adagio?” A hand came to rest on her shoulder, its touch subtle but still calming. Rarity looked over at her—the face she wore was like a book written in a cipher; the form, she recognized, but specifics eluded her. There were hints of compassion, perhaps, but they were small and fragile-looking. “Start from the beginning,” she said, carefully and slowly. “We had dinner last night, remember? You dropped me off at home, and then you left. What happened next?”

“I—” Adagio’s breath hitched, and she fought to calm herself. Whatever it was she was supposed to be, hysterics probably weren’t a part of it. “I was… after we finished talking, I called Sunset back,” she murmured. Each word was a labor, but Rarity nodded as if encouraging her, and that made it all easier. “I was just so nervous, I didn’t want to be alone just then.”

Rarity frowned, and Adagio could say with certainty that it was predominantly confusion that came over her. “But… I don’t understand. What were you so nervous about?”

She paused. The words she wanted to say stubbornly refused to pour out—she still clung to pieces of that perfect night she’d wanted for Rarity, perhaps.

So Sunset said them for her. “She was afraid to tell…” Sunset squeezed her eyes shut, and a noise somewhere between a sigh and a growl crept out of her throat. “She was afraid to admit she was a virgin.”

“What?” Rarity frowned again, but then shook her head and sighed. “Oh, Adagio, if you’d only just told me that, then I would have…” All of a sudden, her face tightened, turned icy cold, and whipped to face Sunset. “I’m sorry, did you say ‘was’?”

Sunset shifted in place, eyes turning away from Rarity.

“You did, didn’t you?” Rarity drew in a sharp breath. “Adagio, did you and Sunset—”

“Rarity, I—” Adagio slid farther away from Rarity, hanging her head. “One night,” she whispered. “You’ve done so much for me, I just wanted to give you one night. One night where everything went exactly the way you wanted it to, and… and the more you talked about what you wanted, the more I thought I couldn’t give it to you.”

She looked up, feeling a few first tears welling up in her eyes, too terrified to quite meet Rarity’s face but at least facing in that direction. She had to try, didn’t she? If… if there was anything, anything at all left of the day Rarity had wanted, she had to try and find it. “I thought I was just doing what I needed to do.”

When she looked up at Rarity’s face, finally, she shrank back—it was anger, then, that she saw, and that it was a sad kind of anger hardly dulled its edge; she could feel it slicing into her heart, bleeding her dry of hope. She buried her face in her hands, sobbing softly.

“Slow down, Adagio.” Rarity’s voice reached her ears, quiet and more cold than warm, more sharp than soft. “You called Sunset. What happened next?”

Lifting her head, Adagio looked to Rarity and Sunset, and reminded herself that she had to try. “She—she said there was something she wanted to say to me. She didn’t say what it was, just that it wasn’t anything urgent. And I didn’t want to talk over the phone, so I drove over.”

Rarity looked over to Sunset, who gave a small nod—she’d withdrawn in her seat, folded her arms over her chest, a maddeningly indecipherable expression on her face.

That look made Adagio want to retreat further in her seat, but she remained where she sat. “But then when I got there, she had this odd look on her face, and I just… didn’t know what to do, I froze again.”

Sunset shot her a piercing frown. “What was so odd about it?”

“Probably nothing,” Rarity interjected, leveling a glare at Sunset, her voice taking on a sharp, icy tone. “Not to you, anyway. Her gem let her sense how other people felt. When it broke, she lost that, and suddenly had nothing to work with but faces she’d never learned to read.”

“What?” Sunset snapped her eyes to Adagio. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because you’d worry,” Adagio murmured, casting another pleading look at Rarity. “I didn’t want someone worrying about me on a night that was supposed to be for her.”

She glanced back to Sunset; to her relief, she saw harsh anger fading slightly, turning into something more troubled than wrathful. It still wounded her to see it, but she counted it as an improvement. “But when I froze, I knew you noticed, so I had to say something.”

Sunset didn’t say anything. Silently, she dragged her gaze between Adagio and Rarity—the latter, Adagio noted, she seemed to regard more critically.

Rarity, after a moment, clenched her teeth and let out a faintly exasperated sigh. “And what did you tell her?”

“That I was in love with another girl.” Adagio frowned. The phrasing sounded natural in her head, but odd once it was in the air. Was that the wrong thing? “I didn’t… I didn’t say it was you, or… anyone, really, but…”

“Just keep going,” Rarity said.

Adagio nodded. “And then I told her that I was worried I’d let you down because I was…”

“A virgin, right. What happened next?”

“Then, Sunset, she gave me this look… I’m not really sure how to describe it. More of a stare, I think. And she said she could give me advice, but then she said that” —there was the feeling of wrongness again, of the words she chose sounding different as they left her mouth, subtly cruel instead of impartial— “what I really I needed was practice, and—”

“Sunset!”

“Yeah, that’s what I said, but I didn’t mean that we had to—”

“But that’s what you ended up doing, wasn’t it? Right after she told you she was in love with someone else?”

Adagio’s eyes went wide. The intensity in the glares that Sunset and Rarity leveled towards each other was painful to look at, and she wished that she could make it go away.

Only she didn’t know how. The whole scene playing out in front of her seemed like insanity. They were friends, weren’t they? They weren’t supposed to be fighting like that; they’d work it all out in the end, right? That’s what they always did.

What were the right words to defuse it, then? She could feel them coming to her, hovering on the tip of her tongue…

Sunset edged back in her seat, folding her arms in front of her. When she looked at Adagio, her face was wounded and weary, but then she turned a scowl towards Rarity and spoke in a hiss. “I thought she was talking about me.”

Adagio felt the blood draining from her face. Her mind replayed every odd look or gesture she’d seen Sunset making the night before, only this second viewing brought a gruesome clarity with it.

How in the world had she been that blind?

She had to say something. She had to. There was still a chance, wasn’t there? If she could find the right words, maybe there was hope for them to…

But if they were fighting because she’d done all the wrong things back then… a part of her said that there wasn’t much that could make it all worse, but she’d thought exactly the same thing last night before she ever went to Sunset.

“You thought what?!”

“I don’t know, I thought she was just nervous about saying it out loud!” Sunset drew in a long breath. “And I was wrong. I get that. But I told her I wouldn’t want to get in her way, and she wanted to sleep with me anyway. What was I supposed to think?”

Rarity’s jaw dropped open, all airs of being ladylike abandoned in a moment of astonishment. “It never occurred to you to clarify? This… vulnerable young girl comes to you for help and you… you exploit her like that?”

“ ‘Young’? ‘Vulnerable’? Are we talking about the same person here? She agreed, Rarity. I didn’t force her into anything.”

There. That was her chance. She could chime in, say that it really wasn’t all Sunset’s fault—that she’d known exactly what she was asking for. Rarity was angry, her tongue sharper than she meant it to be; if she kept going like that, then… She opened her mouth, but the words caught in her throat. She sat in her chair, silent on the outside, shrieking at herself on the inside. The moment was right there. She had to act on it, before—

“Oh, I don’t know, let’s see: newly crippled—thanks to us, I might add—lost in the world for the first time, estranged from the only two friends she’s had her whole life? Yes, doesn’t that sound so robust to you? And you thought to trade help for sex.”

Sunset’s eyes grew progressively wider with each pronouncement, until she looked seriously out of her depth. But, just when Adagio had a faint glimmer of hope that Sunset might back down, instead she attacked.

“I didn’t know! And don’t you dare try to pin this all on me! If you could have just pulled your head out of the clouds and had more realistic expectations, miss fairy-tale-princess, she wouldn’t have been so scared to tell you the truth.”

She could claim fault, take some of the anger off of Sunset. It would… it would hurt, though, wouldn’t it, throwing herself into the line of fire like that? Rarity’s friendship was worth the price, of course, but…

“And if you hadn’t been so self-absorbed, maybe you could’ve tried to look for it yourself.”

But the terrifying conflict unfolding in front of her... there was something so mesmerizing about it all. It coaxed deep, powerful dread out of her, and she wished for nothing else more than for it to vanish, but even as she sat there, helpless and silent, she couldn’t bear to look away.

“Right, yeah. You were picking the time to tell everyone about you two based on how big of a spectacle it would be, and I’m the self-absorbed one. No room for self-awareness in this love story of yours?”

“Sorry, which one of us could have sorted this entire thing out with just one question? But no, no, no, you just took her straight to bed and did the hard part later, is that right?”

A dozen questions circulated inside Adagio’s head. Why had she spoken the way that she had, why was she watching something so dear to her crumble and yet unable to lift a finger to try and support it?

“I don’t know. Which one of us made the whole thing possible by keeping secrets? A normal relationship just wasn’t dramatic enough without some spicy dishonesty?”

“You tricked someone into bed, Sunset, let’s not bring honesty into this. Would you have offered to help if the plea hadn’t come from someone you wanted to fuck? You treated this lovely girl as a piece of meat, and didn’t stop to consider that maybe she wasn’t there to do the same?”

Sunset grasped her hair at the roots with both hands, then released it to shake her hands in the air while responding. “Where in the world are you getting all this from? I told you, I thought she did feel the same way! If you’d let her tell me the whole story, I’d never have touched her.”

“Right, because anonymous confessions in the third person are so Adagio’s style! The girl who sang ‘we will be adored’ to a crowd of hundreds can’t say something to your face?”

Adagio remembered. She had stood on a stage, seen images plucked right from her dreams finally coming to reality before her… watched them all turned to ash, seared into nothingness… and now she could see the very bond that had humbled her going up in smoke. What better revenge could she have asked for?

Only she hadn’t asked at all. She was different now. Such a very different person than before. Everything she’d done last night and in the prior weeks, everything had been for the sake of Rarity’s dream. Seeing that effort giving rise to the scene in front of her—a twisted, awful thing she would never have asked for—was excruciating, terrifying. But still, she knew that at the very least, she could try to stop it.

And yet she hadn’t.

“Well, love makes you kind of stupid about stuff, doesn’t it?” Sunset sneered, jabbing her finger in Rarity’s direction. “Case in point. I thought she was shy about expressing feelings she’d never felt before.”

Rarity shot her a look so withering it was a wonder Sunset didn’t melt into the floor.

“Oh yes, because everybody loves Sunset Shimmer! Of course it’s you she was talking about! Why wouldn't it be? You, with the Hot Topic leather jacket and the redemption story, who’s trying so hard to be a good girl. Never mind that some of us never terrorized the school in the first place; it couldn’t possibly be someone like that Adagio would fall for, could it!?” Practically spitting the last few words, Rarity’s mouth tightened to a thin line, giving the impression the very air in the room tasted disgusting to her.

Sunset’s face took a sudden turn for the grim and dour. Anger still gleamed in her eyes, but it was less fiery and more icy cold. “That’s not fair, I haven’t been near anyone from school romantically since Flash—”

“No, you don’t get to speak. You’ve done quite enough damage with your tongue already. But you’ve had plenty of practice at that, haven’t you? How many relationships have you already ruined, Sunset?”

“I have tried. Every single day since the Fall Formal, harder than I’ve ever tried anything in my life.” She sounded like she was on the verge of choking up, but powering through it with rage, face flushed and hands shaking. “I would think that you, of all people, could appreciate that!”

“It doesn’t matter how hard you’ve been working at it. Not to me, not right now. The result is what matters.” Rarity shook. Adagio wasn’t sure whether she was about to weep or shriek. “What’s the result of all your work tonight? Did you see this—” without warning, Rarity’s tirade collapsed, just for one, tragic word “—happy... thing and think it was just another notch on your belt?”

Adagio heard the question and couldn’t help but feel it had been meant for her. Everything she thought she could do, anything that might bring Rarity’s day a little bit closer to perfection, she’d done it. The first time someone had trusted her with something beautiful, she’d gone and shattered it.

Spend a few hundred years breaking hearts…

She was over that. She’d broken that habit, finally. Every day she was with Rarity, she’d told herself that she’d changed.

“No,” she whispered, turning a pleading eye to the two girls in front of her, but they barely seemed to acknowledge her. Every second she watched them made it harder and harder for her to believe her own protests, until at last, all she could do was hang her head and murmur. “She didn’t.” It was quiet and listless, and Sunset deserved a better defense, but it was all she had.

A year ago, she would have been thrilled to look at the fractured bond in front of her.

It was the fear that she still was that made her push herself to her feet and hurry away as quickly as she could, bitter tears flowing freely from her eyes. She thought that she might have heard a shifting of chairs, of someone coming after her, but it was nothing but the sound of raised, vicious voices bouncing off of each other that chased her out of the building.

It felt like an eternity had crept glacially along by the time Adagio finally slumped down on her bed, falling against a wall, burying her face in her palms and drawing her knees to her chest.

It wasn’t sadness she felt, not really. Just pain. Angry faces and cruel words seared into her memory, each accompanied by a haunting tale of how she could have avoided them all, and each of those with an epilogue telling her that she could never have done it right.

And how could she have expected anything different?

She took out her phone. The thing felt heavy in her hand. She just held it there for a little while, sitting in silence, pretending that the resolve to put the accursed thing away would come to her if only she waited long enough.

She didn’t realize when she’d unlocked it, but there it was, open and eager. Enticing, one might say. So many things it would let others hear, some good and some bad.

If the past was truly inescapable, was it more wrong to keep trying to escape it, or to embrace it? Futility or defeat: two shades of grey, both murky.

It felt like giving up when she hovered her finger over a very old name. Once, she couldn’t have imagined a life where she didn’t know it. Once, she had wished she could blot it out from her life forever, and she wasn’t at all sure what would happen if she reached out for it.

But it couldn’t be worse than what running away had brought her.

She started sobbing again as she held the phone to her ear.

“Hello,” she gasped at last in between ragged breaths, tears dripping off her cheeks.

No voice greeted her, just a quiet growl, barely audible but ushering in images of lips curled back and teeth bared.

“You… you were right. This whole time, you were right.” She covered her face, weeping into her palm. “I can’t do it.”

Still silence. It was an eerie, grim lack of sound, and Adagio wished she had the strength to turn away from it.

“I want to come back, Aria.”

For a few moments, all she heard was the pounding of her own heart.

“I thought you’d never ask.”