Free Artistryby fourthsChaptersStropheAntistropheEpodeStropheThe bell rang to signal the end of class, but Flash Sentry didn’t move right away. He paused—only thirty seconds, but a pause nonetheless—which was enough time to let most of the students around him pack their bags and stand up, filing out of the room. “Have a good weekend, Flash!” someone called as they stepped out the door, but they were already gone by the time he looked up. Probably one of the football players. Shrugging, Flash folded his notebook closed and slid it into his backpack. He smiled at Miss Cheerilee as he stepped to the door, and finally he’d escaped the oppressive warmth of the classroom. His sneakers squeaked on the blue and white-checkered pattern of the tile as he turned right, threading his way through the mass of students meandering around the lockers. He went on for a couple minutes, carefully dancing around people who might want to say hello until he reached one particular locker. As he stopped, he eyed the stickers with angular logos of punk bands that dotted its façade—and the wear that betrayed them as relics of a year gone by. “Hey.” Flash turned his head to see a familiar face approaching with a swish of long red hair that splayed over the leather jacket below. “Hi. How’s it going?” Sunset Shimmer stopped, leaning against the locker next to him. “Eh, fine. I was starting to fall asleep in my last class there... thank Goddess it’s over and I can go home now. Might even take a nap.” She smiled a friendly smile, something he’d only ever seen her do in the last couple months. It suited her. “Oh, yeah, I’ve had a couple of late nights myself recently.” Flash’s hands made quick work of the lock as he spoke, and he swung the door of the locker open. There was no empty space to fit anything else inside; the height of the metal cavity was taken up by a black fabric guitar bag resting carefully against the side. Sunset peeked around the corner into the locker, eyeing it as well. “There she is, huh?” “Yep.” Flash stared for another moment before taking hold of the handle and lifting the heavy object with a grunt. Sunset took a step back so he could set it delicately against the front of the neighbouring locker, and Flash could see she was gazing the instrument with a... somewhat less than enthused expression. “Restrung her last night, too,” he added, stepping back. “Should be all good to go.” Sunset blinked in surprise. “You did all that, really? Well, I might as well throw in another 20 bucks then...” She smirked, giving Flash a knowing look he’d only seen a few times before. “Oh, uh...” Flash scratched his head. “I actually meant to say earlier, but... you can just take it, it’s fine.” Sunset raised an eyebrow. “...Take it?” Flash nodded, maybe a little too quickly, but he laughed it off. “Heh, yeah. I don’t really need the money, and I’d rather you just have it.” Sunset shot him a very strange look. “Flash, I’m not just taking your guitar, I’m gonna pay you for it. You did say 80, didn’t you? I’ll just round up to a hundred.” She reached into the jet-black purse at her side and produced a leather wallet, from which she procured a handful of twenties. “Alright, alright,” Flash said, taking the bills as Sunset handed them to him. “Can’t blame me for trying to be generous, though.” “You’re already being plenty generous,” Sunset shot back as she replaced the wallet in her purse. “Heck, I still can’t understand really why you’re willing to sell it to me in the first place. I remember when you wouldn’t stop playing this thing, even here at lunch.” Flash shrugged. “Guess I just moved on. Can’t keep doing the same thing forever, you know? Sometimes things have gotta change.” Sunset nodded slowly. “That’s true.” She reached over and took a hold of the guitar bag’s handle, lifting it with apparent ease. “Still, can be kinda sad to see things change, especially when you’ve got good memories attached.” “Mmm,” Flash hummed. Sunset Shimmer smiled, and turned as if to leave—but, a moment later, she turned back. “Actually, you know what? Why don’t we hang out, for old time’s sake? You, me, tomorrow for coffee at Sugarcube? I feel like I hardly see you these days, and it’s been forever since we’ve caught up.” Flash hesitated. “Uh...” He racked his brain, trying to think of an excuse, something. Sunset rolled her eyes. “Don’t tell me you have anything better to do! I’ll see you there at noon, okay?” “Okay,” Flash said, surprising even himself. “I’ll see you then.” “Perfect,” Sunset said, and then she turned to go for real. At this point, the halls were nearly empty, and Flash just stood there, watching as the redhead carried the guitar further and further and then pushed her way out the large double doors at the end. His hands on the wheel and foot on the pedal, Flash Sentry did something he never did while driving; he whistled. Usually, he’d have his phone hooked up to the car stereo, shuffling through whatever music he’d loaded on there a few years ago—but all those songs were long worn out, no longer fresh enough to captivate as they once did. So, Flash whistled. Not anything in particular—at least, not that he could tell—but simply letting the melodies wander as they pleased. And his eyes, they stayed focused on the road. It was relaxing, in a sense; he knew where he was going like the back of his hand, so he could just zone out and let himself be carried, like the melodies, by reflex. When he reached the intersection with Mane Street, slowing for the red light, he decided the whistling had worn out its welcome too. So he stopped his whistling as he stopped the car, and he sat there in silence with nothing but the sound of the engine and the cars passing in front. Casually, Flash glanced to the side; next to him, in the other lane, was a weathered red sedan that looked oddly familiar. He glanced in the window, and was met with the sight of a middle-aged woman with cropped green hair. A middle school science teacher he’d had, Flash thought, though he couldn’t remember her name. He raised a hand as if to wave, but she didn’t look his way. The light turned, the other car turned, and Flash... he sped onward. The car radio was on as Flash pulled up to the empty driveway, and once he’d parked he let it play on just a little longer. “Now you lead a quite different life from the one that I lead... and I think that’s alright, and I think that’s just fine...” As the guitar solo hit, he turned the volume up halfway and a bevy of notes cascaded out the speakers to fill the space. He closed his eyes and imagined himself playing that solo, fingers moving up and down the fretboard of his trusty Red. And then, in time with the final drum hit, he reached out and turned the key to stop the engine. Gathering his backpack and jacket, Flash stepped out of the car and shut the door a little too hard behind him. It was warm, and more quiet than he would have liked as he walked up the drive, but it was always like that; his mom’s house was in this nice little neighbourhood that bordered on suburbia, where all the lawns were well-kept and the one- and two-storey houses looked fairly uniform. His destination itself, standing before him, was an average two-storey home painted a deep neutral grey, ordinary as ordinary could be. Flash walked up two concrete stairs and picked up the newspaper that was sitting on the welcome mat. Then, fumbling with his keyring in one hand, he managed to slot the correct one in the lock and get the door open. He set the newspaper on the end table by the door, slid his shoes off and set them in the foyer, and then carefully tread inward in his socks. The finish of the wood floor had gotten all screwed up sometime before his mom moved in and she’d never gotten a chance to have it fixed; many a time he’d walked through carelessly and gotten splinters. The ceiling lights were off, and the setting sun shining in from the living room windows cast the common area in a strange, eerie sort of light. Flash didn’t pay this too much mind, however; he was too focused on the dining room table, which he walked towards. In the centre sat a clear crystalline vase—empty—but his focus was trained more towards the small piece of paper that stuck out like a sore thumb from the deep green of the tablecloth. As he approached, Flash could make out a familiar loopy scrawl in blue ballpoint pen—the latter point he could tell because the instrument sat next to the note on the table, uncapped. Working late again, leftovers in fridge Remember to pick up your brother from practice at 7 Love you Mom He smiled. The note hadn’t been necessary—it was basically the same routine as every Friday—but he appreciated it all the same. Flash slid off his backpack next to the table and glanced up at the clock before stepping past the table to the fridge. He opened it, bathing him in a refreshing coolness and the glow of artificial light. It was only a couple minutes later when the microwave dinged to let him know that his mac ’n’ cheese was reheated, and he stood back up from his seat to collect it. When he returned, he sat and ate in silence; by that time, the sunlight had shifted, leaving him shrouded mostly in shadow. He didn’t eat too quickly, but it still didn’t take him too long to get through his bowl. When he was done, he brought it over to the sink and rinsed it out. As he wiped his hands off, Flash checked the time again, and nodded in unspoken approval. He grabbed his backpack again as he walked past the table, and from there he stepped up the stairs. Flash’s bedroom was at the end of the short hall, past his brother’s and across from the bathroom. Unlike his locker, the face of his door was blank; that was at his mom’s request, and he didn’t really care to find out what would happen if he defied her. He opened the door, hanging his backpack on a bedpost as he closed the door behind him. The room was totally clean and his bed was made—a bit unusual for him, but it’s never too late to turn a new leaf. The carpet was bare, and he’d vacuumed last night; his desk across the room was clear and his laptop sat on it, closed. An empty guitar stand stood beside it, below the curtains-drawn window; Flash let out a little sigh at the sight of it. He stepped over and picked it up, and within moments it was tucked into a space behind the curtain covering the closet, out of sight. Out of sight, out of mind. From there, Flash stepped back at sat down on his bed, careful not to mess up the bedspread. He just sat there in silence for a few minutes, taking it all in—gazing at the room he’d spent so much of his time in for the last several years. Homework waited in his backpack, stuffed haphazardly into folders, but it was Friday afternoon and he didn’t have to worry about it for at least another day. Whistling another indeterminate tune, Flash reached over to the bedside table and tugged at the little metal pull on the front of the drawer. It slid open and from within, between the container of dental floss and a backup phone charger, he pulled out a handgun. He took a deep breath, put the barrel to the underside of his chin, and the lights flickered and died. AntistropheShe stared into the mirror, and wide blue eyes stared back. She shook her head, suddenly, as if in disbelief, but when she looked back the eyes were still there—as was the rest of her. Hesitating, she bit her lip and then continued running the brush through her mane one final time. “Jeez, you coooming?” called a voice from the door behind her, and she let out a sharp sigh. “Yes, yes, just a second!” she called back and, huffing, she set the brush down and slid a small black clip into her mane. Giving it a nod of approval, she stepped away from the sink and turned to open the door. As the bathroom door swung open, she was met with the eager face of a mint green unicorn not a few inches from her muzzle, with two other mares standing around behind her in the kitchen. “Lyra, I swear to Celestia, if you keep using my house key to just come in here whenever, I’m going to take it away,” she pouted. “It’s supposed to be for emergencies.” “But Flaaaash, this was an emergency!” Lyra countered with a smirk. “What else were we supposed to do, wait outside? You weren’t responding—what if you died or something?” As she stepped out the door and past Lyra, Flash Sentry turned specifically to roll her eyes at the unicorn. “Mare, whatever. You girls ready to go, or what?” The other two mares—who at that moment had been putzing about the kitchen, looking out the window and such—looked back and laughed. “Sure are, Flashie,” said the orange earth pony, running a hoof through her poofy verdant mane with a friendly grin. “I can’t believe I got up early for this...” the pink pegasus moaned as she hovered just inches off the linoleum. “Let’s just go already, I am starved.” “Heh... alright, Aria, alright,” Flash exhaled, stepping out from the kitchen into a small living room with just a couch and a portrait of a nondescript unicorn on the far wall. “Sorry to keep you all waiting.” “’Sall good!” the orange mare replied, bounding after her as she opened the front door of the apartment. “H’ain’t got much else to do, ya feel?” “I’m sure that’s reassuring,” Lyra said with a sarcastic roll of her eyes. She followed, however, and soon the four mares were outside, Flash locking her apartment door as the others watched. With a click and a whistle, she replaced the key in her saddlebag and the four of them trotted clankily down the metal stairs to the cobble road below. “Soooo... hayburgers?” the orange mare floated. “Cookie, that’s not really brunch.” Lyra tapped her chin. “Though I guess it is after noon...” “Nope, nope, nope,” Aria objected, kicking aimlessly at the ground. “Brunch or nothing, that’s the deal.” Flash nodded. “I’m all in for pancakes, I can’t change my mind now.” “Then off to the Pancake Parlour it is!” Lyra declared, raising a hoof and pointing it forward down the lane. The others followed as she took her first few steps—or, well, all of them but one. “...Isn’t it the other way?” Aria tilted her head pointedly as the others turned around. Lyra, for her part, facehoofed. “Look, it’s been a while,” the mint green unicorn protested, but that didn’t stop the others from giggling as they all turned and lazily followed Aria who was flapping along ahead. “...And I guess the whole thing just had me wondering—why in Celestia’s name would he do that, anyway? What would compel a stallion to do such a thing?” Smart Cookie trotted slowly beside her friend. “Pfff, Lyra, I’m pretty sure ya know why.” “But, like, really?” Lyra let out an exasperated sigh. “That’s what I thought first, but he’s never shown any signs of being into me, yanno? Like, I’m not dumb, I can tell. And I just never got that vibe here.” Cookie hummed. “Well, I dunno. ’Sjust what it seems like from an outside perspective, just this one thing, but I guess I don’t got the whole picture.” Flash Sentry watched her two friends ahead of her, talking, and even that very fact was enough to bring a smile to her lips. She hung around the back of the group, trotting silently behind—but it made her happy to see her friends smiling and talking and even arguing amongst themselves. That, if nothing else, was her favourite part of their weekly outing. Though, of course, the brunch didn’t hurt. Aria walked alone too—or, well, hovered. But she led the group forward, evidently focused on their destination more than the journey. Flash admired that about her, even if she loved the little afternoon walk herself. And it really was lovely; the sidestreet they trotted down was small enough that only occasionally would a carriage roll by and yet the sun shone down from above and the brick façade apartments were lined with planters. Violets, zinnias, lavender, and other flowers Flash didn’t recognise added a splash of spring colour. “—I just don’t want to come off as, y’know, a bitch. If he does actually feel like that, I mean, ’cause if he did then wouldn’t I kinda be in hot water?” Lyra buzzed on. “Eh, don’t worry ’bout it,” Cookie replied. “He’d understand. Plus in any case even if he didn’t, don’t you only got a coupla more weeks at that place, anyway?” Flash blinked and opened her mouth as if to say something, but Aria got there faster. “Whaddaya mean only a couple more weeks?” the pink pegasus demanded, stopping and spinning around in the air. “You quitting or something?” Lyra gave a little nervous laugh. “How about we talk about it when we get there and seated?” Aria snorted. “Well, I’m in luck. We’re here.” And indeed they were; before them was the familiar old-timey “Pancake Parlour” sign hanging off the front of the building over the door. It was a small, homely little brick building; it fit in perfectly with the rest of the neighbourhood. Aria went ahead, holding the door open, and the other three trotted one by one into the establishment. Flash could see a few filled tables here and there, but it was nowhere near as busy as it might have been a few hours earlier, at least if past visits were anything to go by. The low light and stained wood walls gave the whole place a cosy ambiance, something that felt more closed in than the verdant spring outside but no less comfortable. “Hey, Lyra,” came a voice from ahead, and by leaning over Flash could see a familiar cream-coloured muzzle. “Four?” “As always,” the unicorn replied with a smile. “How you guys doing today, Bonnie? Not too busy, I hope?” “Nah, not too bad,” Bon Bon replied, leading the group around a row of booths. “Even breakfast was slow—I think there’s a hoofball game out in Avapon or something.” “Yeah, Queens against the Rockies,” Cookie offered. “Supposed to be a blowout.” “Sounds like a real hoot. Alright, corner booth good?” They’d stopped at the far corner, and Bon Bon turned around to look at the group. “That’s terrific, thanks,” Lyra assured her, and she slid past and onto the bench. The other three mares took their seats, and smiled up at Bon Bon who had pulled out a notepad. “Anything different than the usual?” she asked. “No coffee for me,” Aria grunted. “Too late in the day. Just water instead, please.” “Gotcha.” Flash stretched out her hooves. “Could I have a side of hashbrowns?” “Yeah, of course. Anything else?” Bon Bon looked over to Lyra, who looked to Smart Cookie. “Nah, I think we’re good. Same ol’, same ol’,” Lyra assured her. “Thanks, Bonnie.” “Save it for when I bring your food!” The earth pony trotted off, leaving the mares in the booth in silence. “Sooo...” Aria cut in, after a moment. “What’s this about quitting?” Lyra wore a sheepish grin; Smart Cookie’s sideways glance was encouraging. Flash couldn’t help but laugh; it was always so good to see her friends just talking, feeling, being. The sun shone in from a side window, casting a warm light over the centre of the table between them. “Well, okay, that’s not what I was expecting,” Aria said through bites of Prench toast. “But that’s still pretty damn neat.” “Yeah, I feel really lucky,” Lyra said, beaming. Her plate was already almost clean, or at least as clean as a syrup-encrusted plate can be. “I’ve definitely dreamed of this opportunity before, but... when I submitted that application I really was just doing it for bucks.” “Aw, don’t sell yaself short!” Cookie leaned over to nuzzle the unicorn. “Like, this is what your degree is in! It’s not like they’re just randomly pluckin’ ya off the street or nothing.” “It’s super awesome,” Flash heard herself say. “The Royal Archives... wow. I visited once when I was just a filly, and I remember just how... huge it seemed.” “It sure is a spectacle,” Lyra said, humming. Her magic aglow, she grabbed the final bite of her pancake with her fork and rubbed it all around in the syrupy film before popping the thing in her muzzle. “Goddess, I might even get to travel, to find things for the collection. I mean, if they think I’d be good at that,” she quickly added. “I’m sure it’ll go great,” Aria said with an uncharacteristically warm smile. “I’m happy for you, you know? You’ve been chasing something like this for so long, stuck in that stupid job at the refinery, and now you’re actually gonna be able to do it. It’s cool.” Lyra was drinking from her glass of water, and at that, she made a show of nearly choking. “Whoa, what? Aria Blaze, actually being happy for someone? Colour me shocked!” Aria scowled. “Just trying to be nice for my friend... why do I even bother?” Lyra laughed, elbowing the pegasus lightly. “Only teasing. Really, that means a lot.” Cookie tapped her chin. “What colour would shocked even be, anyway?” Aria rolled her eyes, Lyra boffed Cookie’s green nest of a mane with a hoof, and Flash just sat there, watching the three of them, and she giggled along. She hadn’t been expecting Lyra’s little announcement, but she was so happy for her. Lyra had never given up, even through all of that. Suddenly, Flash remembered something. “Oh, horseapples!” Aria glanced over. “What’s up?” Flash shook her head, already making to stand up from the booth. “Ugh, I totally forgot—I’m really sorry, girls... I have an appointment I really need to get to or else I’m gonna be late.” She glanced up at the clock on the wall, and sighed. “Scratch that, I’m definitely going to be late.” “Oh, yikes.” Lyra frowned. “Well, uh, okay! It was really nice to see you, Flash, glad you could make it at least. Still on for next week?” “Yeah, should be fine,” Flash replied. “Again, I’m really sorry. I do wanna say congrats again, though—I’m so happy for you.” “Thank you so much,” Lyra said. “Great to see you!” Smart Cookie beamed. “Later, skater.” Aria waved a hoof. The ochre mare dropped a few bits on the table and gave a small nod before quickly stepping away. The bell chimed as she slid out the front door, and then Flash Sentry was gone. EpodeSunset Shimmer sat in a big plush armchair, sipping at a cup of coffee, and she wasn’t happy. Well, she wasn’t unhappy exactly—just confused. Flash had said he’d be there at noon, and it was already 12:15, and sure the guy could be just a little bit fashionably late at times but this was out of the ordinary even for him. She’d felt awkward just standing or sitting there without ordering anything, so once she looped the block a few times she came in and ordered a latte from Mrs. Cake, as always greeted her quite cordially, as she was a friend of Pinkie Pie’s. She assumed Flash would show soon and order his drink, so she didn’t think it was a big deal that she’d gotten hers. But as the minutes ticked on, her cup went from half-full to half-empty, and now it was looking like she might even be finished by the time he showed. It wasn’t like she had anything else to do that waiting was keeping her from; Sunset just hated waiting. Just as she’d pulled out her phone, about to send off a text of inquiry, she heard the chime that rang with the café door. Sunset looked up, and of course—it was that darn boy, standing just inside the entrance, wheezing. She shot him a curious look, and he noticed, grimacing for a second before flashing a forced smile and a pair of finger guns. He hobbled over, stopping beside the small alcove with the plush chairs. “What’s up?” Sunset asked. It came out a little snarkier than she intended, but she just let it hang there in the air. “Hey, I’m really sorry,” Flash Sentry managed, taking a deep breath afterwards. “I overslept just a bit and then I couldn’t find anywhere to park so I had to go a few blocks down.” Sunset sighed, and then let out a giggle. “Alright, alright. I was just getting worried, yanno. Not like you to show this late.” “Yeah, well...” Flash trailed off, noticing the cup in Sunset’s hand. “Aw, crud, let me get my drink so I can sit down.” “Alrighty.” Sunset watched as he walked over to the counter. Then: “Could you grab me a scone?” she called after him. “What kind?” asked not Flash, but Mrs. Cake. Sunset laughed. “Pumpkin, please.” She watched with her head over her shoulder as Flash proceeded to order his drink and wait there as Pinkie Pie—oh, she hadn’t been there before—made it for him. Oddly, she noticed, Flash seemed to be... trembling? Or maybe he was just still trying to catch his breath. Whatever the case, in a moment it was forgotten as he received his drink and sauntered back over with it and the scone, taking a seat in the blue chair opposite Sunset. He leaned forward to hand her the plate with the scone, and then leaned back and let out a sigh of relief before taking the first sip of something topped with what could only be described as a glorious mound of whipped cream. “Huh, you never used to like your coffee so... sugary,” Sunset commented. Flash shrugged, moving the straw around. “People change, I guess. Or, sometimes you can realise that really you liked something all along, even if... even if you won’t admit it.” Sunset quirked an eyebrow. “You seem... wistful.” She took a bite of her scone. “Oh, that’s good.” Flash took a sip, and then set the plastic cup on the end table beside him. “Wistful’s a good word for it.” Sunset smirked. “Someone missing old times?” she said, batting her eyelids. “N-no, not like that at all,” Flash stammered hurriedly. “No, I... uh...” His cheeks were red, and he definitely was trembling, for real this time, not a trick of the light. “Flash...” Sunset’s features softened. “You know you can tell me anything, right?” So, Flash did. And when he broke down, Sunset pulled him over to the couch and she sat there, arm around her sobbing friend’s shoulders as they shook, and she said quietly that it was all going to be alright.
StropheThe bell rang to signal the end of class, but Flash Sentry didn’t move right away. He paused—only thirty seconds, but a pause nonetheless—which was enough time to let most of the students around him pack their bags and stand up, filing out of the room. “Have a good weekend, Flash!” someone called as they stepped out the door, but they were already gone by the time he looked up. Probably one of the football players. Shrugging, Flash folded his notebook closed and slid it into his backpack. He smiled at Miss Cheerilee as he stepped to the door, and finally he’d escaped the oppressive warmth of the classroom. His sneakers squeaked on the blue and white-checkered pattern of the tile as he turned right, threading his way through the mass of students meandering around the lockers. He went on for a couple minutes, carefully dancing around people who might want to say hello until he reached one particular locker. As he stopped, he eyed the stickers with angular logos of punk bands that dotted its façade—and the wear that betrayed them as relics of a year gone by. “Hey.” Flash turned his head to see a familiar face approaching with a swish of long red hair that splayed over the leather jacket below. “Hi. How’s it going?” Sunset Shimmer stopped, leaning against the locker next to him. “Eh, fine. I was starting to fall asleep in my last class there... thank Goddess it’s over and I can go home now. Might even take a nap.” She smiled a friendly smile, something he’d only ever seen her do in the last couple months. It suited her. “Oh, yeah, I’ve had a couple of late nights myself recently.” Flash’s hands made quick work of the lock as he spoke, and he swung the door of the locker open. There was no empty space to fit anything else inside; the height of the metal cavity was taken up by a black fabric guitar bag resting carefully against the side. Sunset peeked around the corner into the locker, eyeing it as well. “There she is, huh?” “Yep.” Flash stared for another moment before taking hold of the handle and lifting the heavy object with a grunt. Sunset took a step back so he could set it delicately against the front of the neighbouring locker, and Flash could see she was gazing the instrument with a... somewhat less than enthused expression. “Restrung her last night, too,” he added, stepping back. “Should be all good to go.” Sunset blinked in surprise. “You did all that, really? Well, I might as well throw in another 20 bucks then...” She smirked, giving Flash a knowing look he’d only seen a few times before. “Oh, uh...” Flash scratched his head. “I actually meant to say earlier, but... you can just take it, it’s fine.” Sunset raised an eyebrow. “...Take it?” Flash nodded, maybe a little too quickly, but he laughed it off. “Heh, yeah. I don’t really need the money, and I’d rather you just have it.” Sunset shot him a very strange look. “Flash, I’m not just taking your guitar, I’m gonna pay you for it. You did say 80, didn’t you? I’ll just round up to a hundred.” She reached into the jet-black purse at her side and produced a leather wallet, from which she procured a handful of twenties. “Alright, alright,” Flash said, taking the bills as Sunset handed them to him. “Can’t blame me for trying to be generous, though.” “You’re already being plenty generous,” Sunset shot back as she replaced the wallet in her purse. “Heck, I still can’t understand really why you’re willing to sell it to me in the first place. I remember when you wouldn’t stop playing this thing, even here at lunch.” Flash shrugged. “Guess I just moved on. Can’t keep doing the same thing forever, you know? Sometimes things have gotta change.” Sunset nodded slowly. “That’s true.” She reached over and took a hold of the guitar bag’s handle, lifting it with apparent ease. “Still, can be kinda sad to see things change, especially when you’ve got good memories attached.” “Mmm,” Flash hummed. Sunset Shimmer smiled, and turned as if to leave—but, a moment later, she turned back. “Actually, you know what? Why don’t we hang out, for old time’s sake? You, me, tomorrow for coffee at Sugarcube? I feel like I hardly see you these days, and it’s been forever since we’ve caught up.” Flash hesitated. “Uh...” He racked his brain, trying to think of an excuse, something. Sunset rolled her eyes. “Don’t tell me you have anything better to do! I’ll see you there at noon, okay?” “Okay,” Flash said, surprising even himself. “I’ll see you then.” “Perfect,” Sunset said, and then she turned to go for real. At this point, the halls were nearly empty, and Flash just stood there, watching as the redhead carried the guitar further and further and then pushed her way out the large double doors at the end. His hands on the wheel and foot on the pedal, Flash Sentry did something he never did while driving; he whistled. Usually, he’d have his phone hooked up to the car stereo, shuffling through whatever music he’d loaded on there a few years ago—but all those songs were long worn out, no longer fresh enough to captivate as they once did. So, Flash whistled. Not anything in particular—at least, not that he could tell—but simply letting the melodies wander as they pleased. And his eyes, they stayed focused on the road. It was relaxing, in a sense; he knew where he was going like the back of his hand, so he could just zone out and let himself be carried, like the melodies, by reflex. When he reached the intersection with Mane Street, slowing for the red light, he decided the whistling had worn out its welcome too. So he stopped his whistling as he stopped the car, and he sat there in silence with nothing but the sound of the engine and the cars passing in front. Casually, Flash glanced to the side; next to him, in the other lane, was a weathered red sedan that looked oddly familiar. He glanced in the window, and was met with the sight of a middle-aged woman with cropped green hair. A middle school science teacher he’d had, Flash thought, though he couldn’t remember her name. He raised a hand as if to wave, but she didn’t look his way. The light turned, the other car turned, and Flash... he sped onward. The car radio was on as Flash pulled up to the empty driveway, and once he’d parked he let it play on just a little longer. “Now you lead a quite different life from the one that I lead... and I think that’s alright, and I think that’s just fine...” As the guitar solo hit, he turned the volume up halfway and a bevy of notes cascaded out the speakers to fill the space. He closed his eyes and imagined himself playing that solo, fingers moving up and down the fretboard of his trusty Red. And then, in time with the final drum hit, he reached out and turned the key to stop the engine. Gathering his backpack and jacket, Flash stepped out of the car and shut the door a little too hard behind him. It was warm, and more quiet than he would have liked as he walked up the drive, but it was always like that; his mom’s house was in this nice little neighbourhood that bordered on suburbia, where all the lawns were well-kept and the one- and two-storey houses looked fairly uniform. His destination itself, standing before him, was an average two-storey home painted a deep neutral grey, ordinary as ordinary could be. Flash walked up two concrete stairs and picked up the newspaper that was sitting on the welcome mat. Then, fumbling with his keyring in one hand, he managed to slot the correct one in the lock and get the door open. He set the newspaper on the end table by the door, slid his shoes off and set them in the foyer, and then carefully tread inward in his socks. The finish of the wood floor had gotten all screwed up sometime before his mom moved in and she’d never gotten a chance to have it fixed; many a time he’d walked through carelessly and gotten splinters. The ceiling lights were off, and the setting sun shining in from the living room windows cast the common area in a strange, eerie sort of light. Flash didn’t pay this too much mind, however; he was too focused on the dining room table, which he walked towards. In the centre sat a clear crystalline vase—empty—but his focus was trained more towards the small piece of paper that stuck out like a sore thumb from the deep green of the tablecloth. As he approached, Flash could make out a familiar loopy scrawl in blue ballpoint pen—the latter point he could tell because the instrument sat next to the note on the table, uncapped. Working late again, leftovers in fridge Remember to pick up your brother from practice at 7 Love you Mom He smiled. The note hadn’t been necessary—it was basically the same routine as every Friday—but he appreciated it all the same. Flash slid off his backpack next to the table and glanced up at the clock before stepping past the table to the fridge. He opened it, bathing him in a refreshing coolness and the glow of artificial light. It was only a couple minutes later when the microwave dinged to let him know that his mac ’n’ cheese was reheated, and he stood back up from his seat to collect it. When he returned, he sat and ate in silence; by that time, the sunlight had shifted, leaving him shrouded mostly in shadow. He didn’t eat too quickly, but it still didn’t take him too long to get through his bowl. When he was done, he brought it over to the sink and rinsed it out. As he wiped his hands off, Flash checked the time again, and nodded in unspoken approval. He grabbed his backpack again as he walked past the table, and from there he stepped up the stairs. Flash’s bedroom was at the end of the short hall, past his brother’s and across from the bathroom. Unlike his locker, the face of his door was blank; that was at his mom’s request, and he didn’t really care to find out what would happen if he defied her. He opened the door, hanging his backpack on a bedpost as he closed the door behind him. The room was totally clean and his bed was made—a bit unusual for him, but it’s never too late to turn a new leaf. The carpet was bare, and he’d vacuumed last night; his desk across the room was clear and his laptop sat on it, closed. An empty guitar stand stood beside it, below the curtains-drawn window; Flash let out a little sigh at the sight of it. He stepped over and picked it up, and within moments it was tucked into a space behind the curtain covering the closet, out of sight. Out of sight, out of mind. From there, Flash stepped back at sat down on his bed, careful not to mess up the bedspread. He just sat there in silence for a few minutes, taking it all in—gazing at the room he’d spent so much of his time in for the last several years. Homework waited in his backpack, stuffed haphazardly into folders, but it was Friday afternoon and he didn’t have to worry about it for at least another day. Whistling another indeterminate tune, Flash reached over to the bedside table and tugged at the little metal pull on the front of the drawer. It slid open and from within, between the container of dental floss and a backup phone charger, he pulled out a handgun. He took a deep breath, put the barrel to the underside of his chin, and the lights flickered and died.
AntistropheShe stared into the mirror, and wide blue eyes stared back. She shook her head, suddenly, as if in disbelief, but when she looked back the eyes were still there—as was the rest of her. Hesitating, she bit her lip and then continued running the brush through her mane one final time. “Jeez, you coooming?” called a voice from the door behind her, and she let out a sharp sigh. “Yes, yes, just a second!” she called back and, huffing, she set the brush down and slid a small black clip into her mane. Giving it a nod of approval, she stepped away from the sink and turned to open the door. As the bathroom door swung open, she was met with the eager face of a mint green unicorn not a few inches from her muzzle, with two other mares standing around behind her in the kitchen. “Lyra, I swear to Celestia, if you keep using my house key to just come in here whenever, I’m going to take it away,” she pouted. “It’s supposed to be for emergencies.” “But Flaaaash, this was an emergency!” Lyra countered with a smirk. “What else were we supposed to do, wait outside? You weren’t responding—what if you died or something?” As she stepped out the door and past Lyra, Flash Sentry turned specifically to roll her eyes at the unicorn. “Mare, whatever. You girls ready to go, or what?” The other two mares—who at that moment had been putzing about the kitchen, looking out the window and such—looked back and laughed. “Sure are, Flashie,” said the orange earth pony, running a hoof through her poofy verdant mane with a friendly grin. “I can’t believe I got up early for this...” the pink pegasus moaned as she hovered just inches off the linoleum. “Let’s just go already, I am starved.” “Heh... alright, Aria, alright,” Flash exhaled, stepping out from the kitchen into a small living room with just a couch and a portrait of a nondescript unicorn on the far wall. “Sorry to keep you all waiting.” “’Sall good!” the orange mare replied, bounding after her as she opened the front door of the apartment. “H’ain’t got much else to do, ya feel?” “I’m sure that’s reassuring,” Lyra said with a sarcastic roll of her eyes. She followed, however, and soon the four mares were outside, Flash locking her apartment door as the others watched. With a click and a whistle, she replaced the key in her saddlebag and the four of them trotted clankily down the metal stairs to the cobble road below. “Soooo... hayburgers?” the orange mare floated. “Cookie, that’s not really brunch.” Lyra tapped her chin. “Though I guess it is after noon...” “Nope, nope, nope,” Aria objected, kicking aimlessly at the ground. “Brunch or nothing, that’s the deal.” Flash nodded. “I’m all in for pancakes, I can’t change my mind now.” “Then off to the Pancake Parlour it is!” Lyra declared, raising a hoof and pointing it forward down the lane. The others followed as she took her first few steps—or, well, all of them but one. “...Isn’t it the other way?” Aria tilted her head pointedly as the others turned around. Lyra, for her part, facehoofed. “Look, it’s been a while,” the mint green unicorn protested, but that didn’t stop the others from giggling as they all turned and lazily followed Aria who was flapping along ahead. “...And I guess the whole thing just had me wondering—why in Celestia’s name would he do that, anyway? What would compel a stallion to do such a thing?” Smart Cookie trotted slowly beside her friend. “Pfff, Lyra, I’m pretty sure ya know why.” “But, like, really?” Lyra let out an exasperated sigh. “That’s what I thought first, but he’s never shown any signs of being into me, yanno? Like, I’m not dumb, I can tell. And I just never got that vibe here.” Cookie hummed. “Well, I dunno. ’Sjust what it seems like from an outside perspective, just this one thing, but I guess I don’t got the whole picture.” Flash Sentry watched her two friends ahead of her, talking, and even that very fact was enough to bring a smile to her lips. She hung around the back of the group, trotting silently behind—but it made her happy to see her friends smiling and talking and even arguing amongst themselves. That, if nothing else, was her favourite part of their weekly outing. Though, of course, the brunch didn’t hurt. Aria walked alone too—or, well, hovered. But she led the group forward, evidently focused on their destination more than the journey. Flash admired that about her, even if she loved the little afternoon walk herself. And it really was lovely; the sidestreet they trotted down was small enough that only occasionally would a carriage roll by and yet the sun shone down from above and the brick façade apartments were lined with planters. Violets, zinnias, lavender, and other flowers Flash didn’t recognise added a splash of spring colour. “—I just don’t want to come off as, y’know, a bitch. If he does actually feel like that, I mean, ’cause if he did then wouldn’t I kinda be in hot water?” Lyra buzzed on. “Eh, don’t worry ’bout it,” Cookie replied. “He’d understand. Plus in any case even if he didn’t, don’t you only got a coupla more weeks at that place, anyway?” Flash blinked and opened her mouth as if to say something, but Aria got there faster. “Whaddaya mean only a couple more weeks?” the pink pegasus demanded, stopping and spinning around in the air. “You quitting or something?” Lyra gave a little nervous laugh. “How about we talk about it when we get there and seated?” Aria snorted. “Well, I’m in luck. We’re here.” And indeed they were; before them was the familiar old-timey “Pancake Parlour” sign hanging off the front of the building over the door. It was a small, homely little brick building; it fit in perfectly with the rest of the neighbourhood. Aria went ahead, holding the door open, and the other three trotted one by one into the establishment. Flash could see a few filled tables here and there, but it was nowhere near as busy as it might have been a few hours earlier, at least if past visits were anything to go by. The low light and stained wood walls gave the whole place a cosy ambiance, something that felt more closed in than the verdant spring outside but no less comfortable. “Hey, Lyra,” came a voice from ahead, and by leaning over Flash could see a familiar cream-coloured muzzle. “Four?” “As always,” the unicorn replied with a smile. “How you guys doing today, Bonnie? Not too busy, I hope?” “Nah, not too bad,” Bon Bon replied, leading the group around a row of booths. “Even breakfast was slow—I think there’s a hoofball game out in Avapon or something.” “Yeah, Queens against the Rockies,” Cookie offered. “Supposed to be a blowout.” “Sounds like a real hoot. Alright, corner booth good?” They’d stopped at the far corner, and Bon Bon turned around to look at the group. “That’s terrific, thanks,” Lyra assured her, and she slid past and onto the bench. The other three mares took their seats, and smiled up at Bon Bon who had pulled out a notepad. “Anything different than the usual?” she asked. “No coffee for me,” Aria grunted. “Too late in the day. Just water instead, please.” “Gotcha.” Flash stretched out her hooves. “Could I have a side of hashbrowns?” “Yeah, of course. Anything else?” Bon Bon looked over to Lyra, who looked to Smart Cookie. “Nah, I think we’re good. Same ol’, same ol’,” Lyra assured her. “Thanks, Bonnie.” “Save it for when I bring your food!” The earth pony trotted off, leaving the mares in the booth in silence. “Sooo...” Aria cut in, after a moment. “What’s this about quitting?” Lyra wore a sheepish grin; Smart Cookie’s sideways glance was encouraging. Flash couldn’t help but laugh; it was always so good to see her friends just talking, feeling, being. The sun shone in from a side window, casting a warm light over the centre of the table between them. “Well, okay, that’s not what I was expecting,” Aria said through bites of Prench toast. “But that’s still pretty damn neat.” “Yeah, I feel really lucky,” Lyra said, beaming. Her plate was already almost clean, or at least as clean as a syrup-encrusted plate can be. “I’ve definitely dreamed of this opportunity before, but... when I submitted that application I really was just doing it for bucks.” “Aw, don’t sell yaself short!” Cookie leaned over to nuzzle the unicorn. “Like, this is what your degree is in! It’s not like they’re just randomly pluckin’ ya off the street or nothing.” “It’s super awesome,” Flash heard herself say. “The Royal Archives... wow. I visited once when I was just a filly, and I remember just how... huge it seemed.” “It sure is a spectacle,” Lyra said, humming. Her magic aglow, she grabbed the final bite of her pancake with her fork and rubbed it all around in the syrupy film before popping the thing in her muzzle. “Goddess, I might even get to travel, to find things for the collection. I mean, if they think I’d be good at that,” she quickly added. “I’m sure it’ll go great,” Aria said with an uncharacteristically warm smile. “I’m happy for you, you know? You’ve been chasing something like this for so long, stuck in that stupid job at the refinery, and now you’re actually gonna be able to do it. It’s cool.” Lyra was drinking from her glass of water, and at that, she made a show of nearly choking. “Whoa, what? Aria Blaze, actually being happy for someone? Colour me shocked!” Aria scowled. “Just trying to be nice for my friend... why do I even bother?” Lyra laughed, elbowing the pegasus lightly. “Only teasing. Really, that means a lot.” Cookie tapped her chin. “What colour would shocked even be, anyway?” Aria rolled her eyes, Lyra boffed Cookie’s green nest of a mane with a hoof, and Flash just sat there, watching the three of them, and she giggled along. She hadn’t been expecting Lyra’s little announcement, but she was so happy for her. Lyra had never given up, even through all of that. Suddenly, Flash remembered something. “Oh, horseapples!” Aria glanced over. “What’s up?” Flash shook her head, already making to stand up from the booth. “Ugh, I totally forgot—I’m really sorry, girls... I have an appointment I really need to get to or else I’m gonna be late.” She glanced up at the clock on the wall, and sighed. “Scratch that, I’m definitely going to be late.” “Oh, yikes.” Lyra frowned. “Well, uh, okay! It was really nice to see you, Flash, glad you could make it at least. Still on for next week?” “Yeah, should be fine,” Flash replied. “Again, I’m really sorry. I do wanna say congrats again, though—I’m so happy for you.” “Thank you so much,” Lyra said. “Great to see you!” Smart Cookie beamed. “Later, skater.” Aria waved a hoof. The ochre mare dropped a few bits on the table and gave a small nod before quickly stepping away. The bell chimed as she slid out the front door, and then Flash Sentry was gone.
EpodeSunset Shimmer sat in a big plush armchair, sipping at a cup of coffee, and she wasn’t happy. Well, she wasn’t unhappy exactly—just confused. Flash had said he’d be there at noon, and it was already 12:15, and sure the guy could be just a little bit fashionably late at times but this was out of the ordinary even for him. She’d felt awkward just standing or sitting there without ordering anything, so once she looped the block a few times she came in and ordered a latte from Mrs. Cake, as always greeted her quite cordially, as she was a friend of Pinkie Pie’s. She assumed Flash would show soon and order his drink, so she didn’t think it was a big deal that she’d gotten hers. But as the minutes ticked on, her cup went from half-full to half-empty, and now it was looking like she might even be finished by the time he showed. It wasn’t like she had anything else to do that waiting was keeping her from; Sunset just hated waiting. Just as she’d pulled out her phone, about to send off a text of inquiry, she heard the chime that rang with the café door. Sunset looked up, and of course—it was that darn boy, standing just inside the entrance, wheezing. She shot him a curious look, and he noticed, grimacing for a second before flashing a forced smile and a pair of finger guns. He hobbled over, stopping beside the small alcove with the plush chairs. “What’s up?” Sunset asked. It came out a little snarkier than she intended, but she just let it hang there in the air. “Hey, I’m really sorry,” Flash Sentry managed, taking a deep breath afterwards. “I overslept just a bit and then I couldn’t find anywhere to park so I had to go a few blocks down.” Sunset sighed, and then let out a giggle. “Alright, alright. I was just getting worried, yanno. Not like you to show this late.” “Yeah, well...” Flash trailed off, noticing the cup in Sunset’s hand. “Aw, crud, let me get my drink so I can sit down.” “Alrighty.” Sunset watched as he walked over to the counter. Then: “Could you grab me a scone?” she called after him. “What kind?” asked not Flash, but Mrs. Cake. Sunset laughed. “Pumpkin, please.” She watched with her head over her shoulder as Flash proceeded to order his drink and wait there as Pinkie Pie—oh, she hadn’t been there before—made it for him. Oddly, she noticed, Flash seemed to be... trembling? Or maybe he was just still trying to catch his breath. Whatever the case, in a moment it was forgotten as he received his drink and sauntered back over with it and the scone, taking a seat in the blue chair opposite Sunset. He leaned forward to hand her the plate with the scone, and then leaned back and let out a sigh of relief before taking the first sip of something topped with what could only be described as a glorious mound of whipped cream. “Huh, you never used to like your coffee so... sugary,” Sunset commented. Flash shrugged, moving the straw around. “People change, I guess. Or, sometimes you can realise that really you liked something all along, even if... even if you won’t admit it.” Sunset quirked an eyebrow. “You seem... wistful.” She took a bite of her scone. “Oh, that’s good.” Flash took a sip, and then set the plastic cup on the end table beside him. “Wistful’s a good word for it.” Sunset smirked. “Someone missing old times?” she said, batting her eyelids. “N-no, not like that at all,” Flash stammered hurriedly. “No, I... uh...” His cheeks were red, and he definitely was trembling, for real this time, not a trick of the light. “Flash...” Sunset’s features softened. “You know you can tell me anything, right?” So, Flash did. And when he broke down, Sunset pulled him over to the couch and she sat there, arm around her sobbing friend’s shoulders as they shook, and she said quietly that it was all going to be alright.
