...Nonfiction...
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Nonfiction~

...Nonfiction...

“I love you, Sunset.” She looked up from her notebook, bringing me into the most intimate eye contact I could have imagined, and she outstretched her arm over the table, offering me her palm face up. I reached my own hand forward in response, gripping her hand with a softness fit for a girl as wonderful as her.

Her hand was warm, and in the contact, I realized simply how cold mine must be, if only by contrast.

Sweet Newton her hand was warm. I felt a gentle squeeze against my fingertips, pressing a button and sending electric shocks through my body.

She must have thought I was an electronic device like my projects at work, since all I she had to do was touch me to turn me on.

I squeezed back, my tummy bouncing in little sunnersaults– somersets– somersaults– and I fixated on that one point of contact, that connection, that humanity.

So many days I spend couped alone in my room writing mathematics papers or studying my physics textbook. So many hours spent alone hacking on the latest gizmo at work. Robotic.

Beep boop, beep boop, boop on the nose with my free hand.

Even her nose was soft; it’s unfair, truly, how easy she makes it look to be amazing. “Hey, Sunset?”

She smiled, an affectionate flame kindled within. “Yes, Twilight?”

“I love you.” I purred.

“I love you, too.” She smiled, and hearing the words, I felt dizzy, lovestruck. Inundated with warmth,

I outstretched an upside-down fist towards Sunset. Wagging my eyebrows in a meak act of seduction, I cooed, “Want a kiss?”, unfurling my fingers to reveal one silver-wrapped Hoofsies Kiss sitting in my palm.

Sunset eyed the candy, bringing her own hand to meet mine, covering the treat in her palm and wrapping her fingers around mine. Her other hand, however, she placed on my shoulder, closing the gap between us with her head gliding towards mine, plastering one kiss on my lips and leaving me breathless. With our lips still connected, she clawed my hand, clasping the candy, and still holding my shoulder, she unwrapped it and brought it so close to our lips that I could smell the chocolate.

Smell, but not taste. She pulled back from the kiss, keeping her touch on my shoulder firm, and popped in the candy into her mouth, sucking for a moment, chewing, and swallowing with a gulp that sent a gust of cold wind through my spine. Smiling softly, she leaned in and stole one more kiss from my lips, whispering, “Thank you”, lips wet with sugar.

She released, and all I could utter was, “Wow.”

Sunset smirked. “Yes, I do have that effect on you, Twilight.”

Blink. “What? No, it’s not that. It’s just… I’ve never seen anyone unwrap a candy with one hand.”

She grinned, placing her hand open under my chin, letting her fingers share warmth with me. “One of my many talents, girl. One of many talents.”

I swooned and leaned in towards her lips once more as–

Aaa! Aaa! Aaa! Wha? Bwa? Sunset? Is that you? Why is it so dark – so bright – so blurry? Aaa! Aaa! Aaa! Who’s there? I opened my eyes slowly to reveal my usual bedroom, myself lying in bed panting, my arms wrapped tight around a pillow pressed up against my lips, my alarm clock buzzing in my ear by my side. I swatted at the clock to silence it, and stared at the pillow, still tight against my chest. I smiled sheepishly, nuzzling the pillow a bit and feeling rather hot and silly as I planted one final kiss on its anterior, then let go. I spotted my hand around my bedside table until I found my glasses, which I slipped on, then slowly raised myself out of bed.

Waking up to Sunset, even imaginary Sunset, could never get old.

One of those days it would be real Sunset, snuggled up next to me in bed, a smiling face or soft chest where my pillow would be, a far larger and far more cuddly replacement for my current makeshift pillow arrangement. I could wait for the bliss to be some day in the (near?) future.

Maybe it would even be that day or night. As sunlight streamed into the air, memories of the night prior and expectations for the day to come flooded back in me, obscuring my dream and letting the details mutate in the fallible fuzziness of memory. But my smile didn’t break – on that day, in addition to an imaginary Sunset at the focal point of my dreams, at noon I would meet a one Ms. Sunset Shimmer for lunch at Chili Thai.

Throughout my morning routine of meditation, showering, eating breakfast, I was filled with an unwavering mirth. It was a Saturday morning, and for the first time in weeks, my schedule for the day was completely empty, except for one “Sunset” scribbled out with hearts at “11:59am”. Most people would just write “12 o’clock”, but that could have been ambiguous in this context, so I resorted to the airline solution. Sometimes I swear that girl is nocturnal.

Still, I could live with that. As long as she was quiet at night, I think I could sleep through the ruffling.

Of course, with any luck I would be wide awake for any ruffling before sleep. There’s no need to wait for one of us to sleep before the other if we can sleep together. Strictly with respect to temporal synchronization as implied by a phrase wholly absent of salacious double entendre, of course.

Tingles pecked up and down my belly. I absently brought my middle and index fingers to my opposite wrist, and by the pounding, concluded by heart rate must have increased. I glanced down and rolled my eyes at myself, the scientific evidence promoting an obvious biological conclusion. With a spacey sigh, I disrobed and threw myself into the shower, for the most vigorous self-cleaning I had subjected myself to since the last time we met face-to-face.

Maybe it was something in the way my tummy tingled, or maybe something about the romantic snow covering the city. But somehow, deep in my heart, I knew that day would be the day.

I hopped out of the shower and assaulting my hair with a hairbrush with my left hand, with my right hand I shaved everything on my body. And I do mean everything.

That would be the day, and after a short walk, I was sitting smitten for lunch.

Slurp. Twirl. Cute. Gulp.

Sunset twirled her fork around some noodles on her plate, sitting across from me. As I quickly learned was a pattern for her, traces of the seasoning dabbed her lips, leaving a decidedly sweet tint and an endearing lack of table manners. While a napkin spread atop my lap, the napkin on her side of the table remained untouched next to her empty glass of water. “This stuff is tasty!”

“Yeah?” I mixed a dollop of rice with the curry sauce on my own plate. “I can’t believe you’ve never tried Thai food before.”

Sunset looked at me warmly.

I set down my fork. “What?”

She cocked her head and stuck her index finger at me teasingly. “Nothing. I just can’t believe you’ve never tried Equestrian food.”

“Hm.” I raised my eyebrow at her. “From what I’ve heard, modulo hay, isn’t Equestrian food pretty much identical to Canadian food?”

Sunset sputtered. “Yes– no– maybe– It’s different!”

“Do educate me,” I grinned, filling my mouth with a forkful of tofu red curry.

Blink. “Uh, Canadian cuisine is heavily meat-based, but ponies are strictly vegetarians.”

“There are millions of vegetarians in Canada,” I quipped, eliciting a groan.

“That can’t be right.” Sunset reached into her pocket and produced her cellphone, thumbing at it for a moment with an determined expression, seeping into one of disappointment as the lights bounced back and forth reflected on her face. Groaning, she shot back, “Well, nobody likes poutine in Equestria!”

“Oh?” I smirked. “If nobody likes poutine in Equestria, does that imply ponies have tried it, and that it does exist?”

She grimaced. “In Manetreal, Torontrot, and Vanhoover, yes. Canterlot, no.” Triumphant, I grinned, and she groaned. “I see your point. Blah.” She scooped up an inappropriately large portion of her Pad Thai and shoved it into her mouth dejectedly, long wet noodles hanging out of her mouth, a symptom Rarity might correct on sight with the proper twirl technique, had she accompanied us. Then again, Sunset’s never been much of a twirler.

I mirrored with some red tinted rice and eggplant. “Honestly–” I swallowed– “I’m not convinced Equestria isn’t the pony counterpart to Canada.”

Sunset rolled her eyes playfully. “Of course you would think that. Equestria has pony counterparts to most of North America, though.”

I grinned. “So, Canada!” I licked my lips, and I swear she blushed, ever so slightly.

“Dork.” She winked.

Maybe I blushed too.

Probably that intense hot sensation within me and the burning pink on across the table from Sunset was just the high density of chili oil within the curry sauce, a natural biological reaction to the chemistry of the food.

“No, you!” I punted back.

Maybe not just the food.

Sunset snorted. “Anyway. How’s your dish?” She forked in a generous helping.

I paused to optimize my answer. Feeling devilish, I responded truthfully. “Spicy. Like you.”

Snort. Cough, maybe. A bit of noodle dribbled out. Check.

Swallow. “I will never understand how that’s supposed to apply to me.” She paused. “Savoury, yes; sweet, maybe; spicy, no. What gives, girl?”

Anything gives. And – my – girl. Whether description of gender or prized term of endearment I couldn’t say, but the designator made me grin, and feel ever stupid doing so. Nobody solves a mathematics problem and writes a proof stating “Differentiate that, equation” or “Suppose no such P, Q exist satisfying the hypothesis, mathematician.” It’s redundant, and ridiculous, and also redundant, and…

And makes me giddy hearing it from her smiling lips.

I tested my luck, and in the lowest whispered I could muster without sounding like a dude, I echoed my dream, “Kiss me and find out.”

If I wasn’t certain before, I was then. No doubt about it, Sunset bore a blush, and it was all thanks to me. I felt perversely proud of myself. I wasn’t sure I would ever figure out how to do that to a girl.

Or a guy for that matter, or anyone else at all. But Sunset.

Sunset sunset sunset sunsita sunset– Umm, never mind, sorry. No idea where that came from.

“Uh…” Sunset mumbled, jaw opening and closing in succession but nothing more than a motor whir coming out, gaze diverging towards the corners of her world. I closed my eyes.

From the other side of my retina, I saw her grow red, grinned manicly. “Screw it.” The table between us disappeared, leaving us together – standing now, instead of sitting, since there was no table – and she grabbed me passionately, until…

Until inevitably I would open my eyes to realize about three seconds had passed while I was sitting in a three star Thai restaurant with my platonic best friend, who was blushing profusely.

Opening one’s eyes is always the worst part. I am the girl of Plato’s cave, and when I saw the light, I returned to the cave.

Sunset sighed. “You know I’m not going to do that Twilight, even though honestly, the hormonal teenager in me kinda wants to?”

You know what, on further thought, I’m calling scene! Story’s over! Sunset said she wants to kiss me, quod erat demonstrandum. Spelling out the details should be left as an exercise to the reader, but…

Proposition: Sunset Shimmer is madly in love with Twilight Sparkle.

Proof by contradiction: Suppose Sunset Shimmer were not madly in love with Twilight Sparkle. Let f denote the fraction of Sunset that wants to kiss Twilight Sparkle. By assumption, Sunset is not madly in love with Twilight Sparkle and therefore has no parts of her that wants to kiss Twilight Sparkle, hence f equals zero. However, we have by the tongue biting lemma that Sunset does have a nonempty part of her that does want to kiss Twilight, therefore f is strictly positive. But we have shown that f equals zero, creating a contradiction by trichotomy. Therefore, Sunset Shimmer is madly in love with Twilight Sparkle, QEFD.

Unfortunately time beat on, and with it Sunset’s words. “But, I know you want your first kiss to be special, to mean as much to your future girlfriend as it will mean for you. I know you want her to want it as much as you do.” She gripped one arm with her opposing hand, softly adding, “And if I could do special for you, I would. Believe me, I would in a heartbeat, Twilight. But I can’t.” A part of me died in that can’t. “I can’t, and I love you too much to take that special from you on a teenage impulse.”

I guess that’s a no, and Sunset Shimmer will never find out just how spicy she is. Then again, she did say “I love you”, so I can clutch onto my fantasies. My proof still holds. Admittedly that was platonic, but love is love, right?

I drifted back into reality, life feeling ever surreal. I caught myself replying, “Thank you.”

Admittedly, I’m not positive why these two words in that particular sequence found themselves exiting my mouth. She did just reject me. Life goes on. I’ll move on from falling in love with my best friend, somehow.

Somehow.

I curled some hair behind my ear, staring anywhere but at her ruddy cheeks. “That’s really mature of you, Sunset. I… I’m not going to lie, I was kind of hoping the sentence would’ve ended at ‘wants to’”– she snorted– “though I do understand your reasoning, and I guess I appreciate that.”

She smiled weakly. “Just looking out for my best friend.”

“Best friend? As in… best friend, best friend? As in the very best?”

Sunset raised her eyebrows. “That’s you.”

“Like, Lyra and Bon Bon?”

She stared me at me blank-faced and deadpanned, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Sigh. A girl can dream.

And I do.

I swirled some food around my plate, not feeling particularly hungry anymore. “Hey, Sunset?”

“Yes?”

“Are you…” I pressed down on an unidentifiable vegetable drowned in curry in my food. “Are you sure you don’t have feelings for me?”

“Twilight…”

“It’s just…” I finally dared look at her eye to eye, finding sympathy addled with concern. “I know you said you don’t, but then you say things like a part of you wants to kiss me, and… I’m confused.”

Silence.

“Sometimes,” she confessed barely above a whisper. “Sometimes I’m confused too.” I noticed her neck dance in a gulp. “Look, if all you wanted was sex–” I felt a cool breeze touch my neck as she uttered a forbidden word– “Then that’s a different story. Just, objectively, I hope you know for your own sake you’re cute. I think for most girls you meet who swing your way, you’re be a total swipe right.” She flashed a smile, and I felt punctured and suddenly sweaty until the lightning happiness drained from her face. “Unfortunately, I know better than anyone you want more than that…” She held a soft fist towards her chest. “And you know better than anyone I can’t do more right now.”

I guess I did know that.

Still wasn’t a no.

Feeling suddenly stupid with nothing to lose, I found myself blurting, “And if we leave it at just that?”

Sunset stared at me and deadpanned, “Are you asking to have no strings sex with your best friend?”

I blinked innocently. “…Are you offering?”

Sunset blinked back. “No.”

“…Of course. I knew that. I’m not the slightest bit disappointed,” I replied, the slightest bit disappointed.

“Uh-huh.”

“Yup.”

We retreated awkwardly into our respective noodle dishes, left in the comfort and discomfort of our respective streams of consciousness. She was right, wasn’t she? I did want a relationship.

Maybe that isn’t quite right. I wanted her. A relationship with her, but mostly her.

You’d want Sunset too if you spent as many hours staring into her eyes as I have. You’d want her then, want her now, want her eventually at least.

And yet she said… “right now”. Not never, certainly not never with me, but right now. As in, that’s liable to change at any minute.

“Sunset?”

She looked up from her noodle-absorbed atmosphere, a little wary but sympathetic. “Yes?”

“Do you think you’ll want to go out with me, sometime in the future?”

She hesitated. “You’ll have to wait until the future for that, I guess. Maybe?”

Hesitation. What was that? Was that hesitation of wondering what the answer is? Was she playing through an imaginary date between us in her head, wondering how that might work, picturing it and savouring the moment, only to stash it away for the future with a simple maybe? Was that hesitation of a firm no but a need to spare her friend’s feelings, allowing a shred of doubt to be cast with an optimistic maybe?

“Maybe?” I repeated, the uncertainty burning a hole in me (or maybe it was the curry). “Sunset, I’m okay either way but… Are you sure you don’t have feelings for me?”

She stared at me, beyond hesitation. Her eyes were heavy, but with that? Part of me fantasized that was the heaviness of holding back a torrent of emotion; maybe she really did have feelings for me stronger than I did for her, and she was merely waiting it out until she could guarantee our relationship would be perfect. The rest of me wondered if that was the heaviness of… No, stay positive, Twilight. a friend.

Though if it’s the latter, maybe she had a shorter end of the stick than I did.

Either way, she frowned. “How many times will you ask me that, Twilight, before it breaks your heart?”

“Seventeen?” I raised up my fists and vigorously unfurled fingers one-by-one as if to count, earning a distant snicker from my companion.

At once I caught her mumbling under her breath, dejected.

“Hmm?”

“It’s nothing,” Sunset said quickly.

I pushed it. It’s never nothing.

“Just…” Sunset relented. “Why me, Twilight? You’re a wonderful girl; I’m sure there are thousands of dates waiting for you at University of Canterlot alone. I’m a mess.”

Why her? Why Sunset? Did I need to produce a list of reasons to fall for my best friend, the most empathetic soul I’ve ever met? The girl who always knows what to say to make me giggle – or make me blush – and for whatever reason, always manages to laugh at my mathematics jokes without fail. Puns included.

I will admit that as of late, our relationship has been complex: part real, part my imagination.

I don’t want any of thousands of other suitors at U of C. I want her.

Yet what pained me most was her doubt. If only she could see herself half as glowing as I saw her. If only I knew what to say, what to do to make her happy – no, to make her wish that she was happy.

At least when we’re together, she seems happy. Maybe I’m projecting. With her, I’m happy.

“You’re pretty wonderful yourself, Sunset.” I smiled, but the words felt hollow as she remained stoic, hearing but listening to the praise thrown her way from me or anyone else.

“I guess.” She rested her fingers against her temples. “I don’t want you to get hurt, Twilight.”

“I know.” And I did. But I didn’t care. Not at the time. Maybe not now. “Sunset, are we… okay?”

Her lips caught a faint warmth, strain visible but sunlight shining through. “I think so, yeah.”

We were okay. Still friends. Still close friends. Maybe even best friends. Probably not after everything I’ve put her through. If we ever were. Admittedly the other girls have known her way longer than I am, so of course we weren’t best friends.

I wanted us to be more than okay.

I wanted her to be more than okay.

I wanted us.

I felt like a broken record. That is to say, plain broken, little to no record. And so I found myself repeating, “Do you think we’ll ever… you’ll ever… you know?”

Her gaze at me must have told me all I needed to know. There it was again, that intangible pain, illegible and manipulative. …Right.

But it was the ambiguity of the gaze that haunted me. She never flat out said “no, never”, always “no, not right now”, or “maybe, see the terms of conditions” or “I’m not the girl for you anyway”. For months the question kept me on my tippy toes – every time we met and she grew pink, my wonder lingered in the air, always met with disappointment and hope for next time.

Each time the disappointment was a little stronger and the hope a little fainter. Life is short, time was flying, and there was no day but today.

I bit my tongue. “Could I ask you for a… favour of sorts?” She nodded. “Could you… reject me? Explicitly?”

I should explain the rationale. If she actually did reject me, then I would know and I could move on. But more importantly, if she didn’t, that would confirm the hypothesis that yes, there was in fact a part of her that was holding out, that if I waited a bit longer, we could throw out the anchor, and the ship would sail.

She paused for a slice of eternity, and in her silence, my stomach stopped. The succeeding words were the initial conditions determining the entire trajectory of our relationship from that minute onward. When my innards restarted, they tossed and turned until she finally spoke. “I’m sorry, Twilight.”

Another pause. Sorry that she couldn’t fulfill the favour because she was still totally into and just was processing her feelings at her own rate, and that was why she was sorry? “You’re wonderful to be around, and I love talking to you, Twilight.”

Two reasons out of many she ought to have kissed me already, yes.

“But, please understand, Twilight… I can’t see us taking it anywhere past that. You’re a wonderful friend of mine, Twilight, and I don’t want to change that. But I’ve never seen you romantically.”

Oh.

…Oh.

You’ve ever seen one of those pre-LED light bulbs when their filament burns out, with a little flickering until they die into darkness? It turns out being rejected feels something like that, except instead of a light bulb, it’s a fire, and instead of a filament, it’s your brain. Most people would say your heart, but the limbic system is a feature of the brain; there’s obviously no connection to the cardiovascular system despite what Haymark tries to tell you every February.

I didn’t think she would actually call my bluff – everything worked out fine in the musical, if you ignore Act 2! – and yet she continued. “I should have told you that months ago; it’s unfair to you to dangle the possibility of a relationship that will never happen in front of you. Just because I’m scared to hurt you doesn’t mean it was right. I’m sorry, Twilight. I really am.”

So that was that. Case closed.

It’s funny. The moment she punctured me with the finality of the words, I felt deflated – but not quite hurt, not yet. Cold and empty, yes, but there was no fear, no anger, no longing, not yet. Just a vague sadness and wondering if Rainbow Dash put her up to this, and a few minutes later she would scream out, “Gotcha!” so loud that we’d be expelled from the restaurant, and then she’d take my hand in hers and kiss me.

It didn’t happen that way, but trust me, it could have.

Or don’t trust me. Denial is the first stage of Cuddler-Ross grieving. A bit of a blessing, I suppose – imagine getting to anger or depression while she’s still sitting right there uncomfortable eyeing the wet curry lining an empty plate.

Numb. Not hurt, not yet. Numb. Numb enough to ask, “Sunset?”

“Yes?”

I stared at her shining eyes. I don’t know if I could resist those eyes one more minute without pouncing to see them extra close. I was tempted to look away – to stay professional – but I forced myself to look at the shining black holes. I was far enough from the event horizon that I wouldn’t fall in, probably.

There’s that pesky denial again. There too it was as I said, “Thank you. It does hurt a little bit, but… thank you for telling me regardless. It’s better for me to know than not, you know?”

Let’s ignore the bit where she had already told me sixteen times prior, but as an engineer, I’m willing to fail as many times as necessary, tweaking my algorithm until success is attained. Unfortunately, some problems simply don’t have polynomial-time solutions.

Hah. Imagine that – winning a Millennial Prize for seducing a girl. Too bad I lost funding.

She nodded solemnly. “You’re welcome, but I’m still sorry. I wish I had something else to tell you.”

“It isn’t your fault, Sunset. I’m the one who misinterpreted every platonic little thing we’ve done together. It’s been my narrative of your story all along. If I weren’t so stubborn, we wouldn’t be here right now.”

She smiled. “Princesses, you are stubborn.”

“Hey!”

“Nah, it’s nice. Kinda freaky how invested you can get into a research question.” She paused, rolling her tongue around a bit in her mouth. “Although it can get exhausting be the subject of your research. But, this isn’t exclusively your fault; I should have said something sooner. It’s not like I didn’t know you read between the lines so to speak.”

I contemplated that. “Why should either of us be at fault?”

“Hmm?”

“I don’t know about you, but I’ve had a tremendous amount of fun these past few months with you, and I’ve learned quite a bit more about myself than about differential equations. I don’t like that we’re having this conversation now, but I don’t know that I lament falling in love with you either.”

Sunset shrugged wordlessly.

In the lull of the conversation, the waiter approached our table. “Will you ladies be having anything for dessert?”

We exchanged a quick glance, and I replied, “Just the check, please.” A dreamy moment later I tagged on, somber, “Split check, please.”

As the waiter left with our plates, I sighed. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t hurting a little bit right now. But… we’re still friends, yeah?”

Sunset smiled, her eyebrows flashing, perhaps offended I even asked. “Of course, Twilight. No matter what happens, we’ll be friends.” She placed her head over her chest, cupping her pendant… and other regions I tried to ignore because I shouldn’t be focusing on that right now when I need to be learning how to move on, so anyway, the pendant! “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a pretty forgiving type.”

I suppose unrequited love is pedestrian when we’ve saved the universe together from interdimensional collapse on multiple occasions, one of which I caused. “Still. I wish there was nothing you had to forgive. I’m sorry for putting your through so much drama.”

She waved her hand away and into itself. “Nah, there really wasn’t all that much drama. Unless you’d like there to be drama? Because let me remind you, I can do drama better than anyone.”

I snapped at her to form a flattened finger gun, winking, “Is that a challenge?”

Sunset grinned. “Would you like it to be?”

In truth, I didn’t, and not just because I knew I would lose. At any rate, I had no opportunity to respond, for the waiter returned with the check – the pair of checks. Sunset reached into her jacket to produce a small leather wallet, which she folded open and dumped out a $10 bill and some loonies. For a moment I wondered what her income source was, lacking gainful employment or human family, but my daze was quickly broken by my own check being placed in front of me. I unzipped my backpack, and procured my debit card which I fiddled with along the card reader the waiter brought. A moment of finagling later, and the finances were taken care of, leaving us.

Alone.

I cleared my throat. “So this is it, huh?”

Sunset nodded nonchalantly, zipping up her jacket and stepping up from the table. “Guess so.”

I followed her lead past the threshold, past the metal chime, and into the tundra outside. She outstretched her arm towards me, and I walked to fill in the gap between us, enveloping us together. In her arms, for an instant, everything felt okay.

In her arms, we were close enough that I could feel her body heat against mine. I could smell her musty yet undeniably feminine odor, the smell that for months has left me light-headed, giddy, and breathless. I could lose myself into her, in complete submission to this stranger I knew as my best friend, and leaning against her, everything would be okay. Everything was okay. Who needs kisses when there are hugs, after all?

For a moment I retreated to my fantasy, until I was rudely awakened by her breaking the hug. I quickly followed suit. “Thank you,” I muttered, ditzy and lost in the fantasy of a reality of seconds prior.

She simply nodded, paused to catch my eye contact, and then turned away towards her motorcycle.

I watched as she placed her helmet on, as she ignited the engine, as she zoomed away into the Sunset. The sunset. Whatever.

I watched as my girlfriend – girl friend – platonic female companion – zoomed away into nothingness with fragments of my limbic system stolen in her hands and the remnants shattered in my cranium. Though in hindsight the Haymark metaphor is more poetic, because it doesn’t make sense to steal a part of a limbic system without also causing a skull injury, and my symptoms matched love-sickness in lieu of a concussion.

Electrical engineers don’t usually talk about electrons moving forward. Instead, it makes more sense to talk of the space left behind by electrons moving backwards. And so I watched as my girlfriend zoomed forward leaving me with an emptiness rippling towards me and oscillating painfully behind my rib cage, leaving me electrocuted.

Electrocuted and wondering… What now?

As the gravity of my situation sunk in, anchoring me firmly to the ground with my head pushed down via the emotional field force, I stared at the pavement and simply began to walk. At first, I walked aimlessly but as I progressed a destination embedded itself in my subconscience. Walking from downtown towards the residential district left me ample time to ponder.

And fear.

Somehow only minutes after seeing her, I missed her. I missed her more than every had before. Part of me was certain this would all blow over a day or two later, and we would go back to being (platonic?) best friends.

The rest of me saw that afternoon as day 1 of many, and those first few tears streaming down my face onto the sidewalk as only the mouth of the river burning inside me.

As I approached, I dabbed my eyes with the cuffs of my shirt and forced myself to take a deep breath. Better not to betray myself before I even opened my mouth. I closed my eyes for a count, then finally ringed the doorbell.

Instantly the door swung upon to reveal a pink girl with messy hair and baggy eyes. I wondered if I woke her? Yet her response was instantaneous – not a response of shouting “coming”, the door opened the instant I pushed the doorbell. Was she waiting, staring through the peephole for me? Did she see me wipe the tears away? But before I could say “hi”, let alone ask, she rushed forward and caught me in a hug.

“I’m sorry, Twilight,” she whispered into my ear, my lofty walls crumbling into bridges. I accepted the embrace and wrapped my own arms around her in reply, losing myself in a comforted – not romantic? – way. Pinkie hugs were different from Sunset hugs; Pinkie hugs were mushier and smelled of frosting instead of the heavenly whiff of whatever it was Sunset washed her hair with.

Sunset. My mind fixated on her. Here was Pinkie, but to me it was only Sunset, if you rearrange all the features and swap out some colours, smells, and hair styles. On some level, it was comforting, as though no time had passed at all, and nothing had changed; here was Sunset hugging me. But inside I knew it only made the rejection hurt more.

Pinkie held the hug far longer than I think most platonic friends would. I was in no position to complain. She stared at me and said, “I’m glad you came, Twilight.” Though her eyes were anything but.

I forced a smile. “I didn’t know where else to go.” She nodded, and squeezed in another hug, quicker than the last. I felt a knot in my stomach I wasn’t unaware of loosen, but not disappear. “How did you know…?”

She snorted. “Well, duh, one second I was asleep then all of a second I sprung awake and ponied up, then my pony ears started twitching and my legs started wobbling and I felt a bouncing in my heart and lady regions and then had a splash of a headache, so obviously I preheated the oven and zipped to the store, and then I came back and waited here until you showed up!”

I cocked my head. “Your ears started… twitching?”

“Duh, ears legs heart hips head means ‘one of your best friends was just friend-zoned by one of your other best friends and is going to be showing up in need of emotional support’. And then you showed up!” Her eyes pierced mine, lips curled back, as if I was the idiot for that not having been obvious.

Of course, given this was Pinkie Pie I was dealing with, I was the idiot for having to ask.

As I processed her answer, suddenly she ponied up, and her eyes started twitching aggressively, but instead of her legs, then her tail – which she magically grew? – twitched, then her entire body began floating in the air and vibrating with high-frequency while her eyes twitched faster. Before I dared ask what that series of incomprehensible gestures stated about my emotional crisis, music inexplicably filled the aether. Unless you count Pinkie Pie as an explanation, in which case, explicably music filled the aether, as she bubbled up and belted:

Friendzoning is shitty and it makes you wanna frown
Don’t let the bite of Plato be the curse that gets you down
Your sex life isn’over t if she won’t be your mate
Just think of Sunset showering when you masturbaaa–

“Pinkie!” I shouted, cheeks turned from purple to violet. “I do not – think about – ugh!”

“Uh-huh.” Pinkie wagged her eyebrows.

What? I totally don’t. Usually. Um.

I groaned. “I don’t suppose you have alternate lyrics that don’t make me look like a total pervert…?”

Because I’m totally not.

She deflated slightly, whispering comically loudly, “Actually, I do!” The music resumed from the top, and so did she, singing:

Friendzoning is shitty and it makes you wanna frown
Don’t let the bite of Plato be the curse that gets you down
Your future isn’t over just ’cause she won’t be your date
Just focus on the positives and it’ll turn out greeeeat

She may not be your girlfriend, I understand it sucks!
But sometimes that’s reality, who really gives a fu–

“Pinkie!”

“Oops, sorry!”

She may not be your girlfriend, I understand it blows!
But sometimes that’s reality, sometimes that’s how it goes.
So let me shout hello to you instead of screaming bye
I brought you mac & cheese, poutine, and very berry pie

So “it’s wrong to eat your feelings”? No, the world’s full of lies
They haven’t an idea what it’s like for gays and bis
Absotutely nothin’ wrong to gorge yourself on cake
’Cause that’s a proven cure for a lesbian heartbreak

If you’re not feeling hungry, there are plushies in my room!
Cuddle out your feelings to forget impending doom
If you wanna talk about it, that’d be okay too
I love ya, Twilight Sparkle, it’ll just be me and youuuu!

She punctuated her performance with another quick tight hug. For a moment I wondered if I was falling in love again, but I am sufficiently well aware of the psychology of romantic rejection to understand that is a purely chemical phenomenon (in so much as falling in love at any other time in your life isn’t purely chemical, that is).

“Well?”

“Wow.” I pursed my lips. “I love you too, Pinkie.”

She bounced her pupils around. “Uh, yeah, that’s why you came to me! I love you too!” She winked at the end of that, and for some reason my stomach felt a little off. “But that wasn’t well, did you like my song?, it was well, which is it?!”

Right, because the question was wholly unambiguous. Sorry. Still salty. I hesitated, but with a guilty smile, asked, “Could I take you up on the poutine? Normally I wouldn’t.” I sighed. “But if it’ll clog my arteries and break my heart, well, heart’s already broken.”

I wasn’t sure how she would take a sentiment like that, and I’m still not sure how she took it. She was bearing her characteristic nondescript smile before I asked and retained it after I asked. I wonder if I offended her by implying there was anything unhealthy for normal human bodies like mine about mac & cheese, poutine, and whatever “very berry” pie is. If I did, she took it in stride, since she beamed. “Sure thing! Come on in, Sparky!”

She zoomed inside, and I followed somewhat calmer. It’s always been unsettling to visit Pinkie Pie’s home; the contrast of the gloomy low-energy interior against her bubbly self has always struck a disquieting contrast. But in that moment, it fit – the low-key greys of my dulled emotions forming the perfect backdrop to contrast a wild happy foreground.

Following her into the kitchen, I watched as she dug into the refrigerator, delicately picking up and putting aside some small… rocks? and taking out a red and white pattered bowl filled with French fries, cheese curds, and gravy. The regret of my decision hit my neocortex immediately, but desperate times call for desperate measures, and judging by the saliva accumulating above my tongue, the more primal parts of my brain were happy to take the reins.

For herself, she fetched a slice of what I assume to be “very berry pie”, then she bopped the refrigerator door closed with a tiny backwards hop from behind, a fry flying out of the bowl in midair. Clutching the pie, she handed the bowl of poutine to me. “Here you go, Twi!”

I eyed the substance – yes, substance, no matter how tasty, I loathe to refer to concoctions with such a fat to vitamin ratio as “food” – then quickly accepted it into my hands. She sprung and plopped herself in a chair at the main table in the adjacent dining room, pushing back the chair beside about thirty degrees midair in a signal for me to sit down that made my orderliness anxiety spring up to a ten. Still, anxiety about chairs falling over is preferable to anxiety about possibly losing my best friend over a chemical reaction, so no complaints here. Bowl in hand, I walked towards the designated seat, placing the bowl ahead, and let myself collapse into the chair, angle anxiety receding immediately along with the afternoon’s losses and anxieties evaporated into the air.

She wide-eyed me with glee as I glanced around looking for proper utensils for such a food, and seeing none, relented and picked up a dripping fry and shoved it into my mouth. “Mmf,” I swallowed. “This is the stuff.”

Pinkie pumped her fist to herself, beaming, then shoving a half slice of her pie in her mouth. For empathy, or as a reward, or I guess she just really, really likes berry pie? I’m not actually convinced she chewed it, since I could make out the outline of a three-dimensional slice of pie dropping down her neck a few seconds after it entered her mouth. Don’t ask me how that’s supposed to work, geometrically or biophysically speaking. Don’t ask me if Pinkie Pie’s body’s involved.

Admittedly I had eaten lunch not too long ago, but I think we’ve safely established that normal health rules were off the table that day. Without further hesitation, I popped another few fries and a little cheese together as my world’s problems dissolved. Gulp. “Thank you, Pinkie.”

“Of course!” She smiled, bringing her knuckles up against her chin, forming a heart at me. I felt a little uncomfortable at the gesture, though I wasn’t sure why, but she clearly meant well, so I just smiled.

Swallowing another shameless fry, I mused, “I wouldn’t say poutine fixes any problems–”

“What?!”

“–but I am feeling all sleepy and warm and fuzzy inside, so mission accomplished I’d say.”

Pinkie smiled mouth open, wide enough to reveal a tongue purpled from the pie and strangely longer than mine. Probably an evolutionary adaption that came with the increased sugary appetite. Whether it was her presence or the gravy, a blanket of tranquility wrapped me tight, and I allowed myself to smile in the moment. We shared a peaceful silence, mostly interrupted by the sound of her licking purple goo off her plate.

Unfortunately, peaceful silence is the perfect brew for emotional vulnerability, as I found myself spilling, “I had no idea how special each and every one of my friends are to me… until one simply isn’t there.”

Pinkie tilted her head. “Sure she is! You just saw her, and I’m sure you’ll see her again soon!”

“I believe it.” I didn’t. “Even though we’re still friends, it feels like… I lost something. Something I didn’t know I had. I don’t know what, but I feel lighter than I did yesterday. Not light and fluffy… just light enough to give up and float into the cosmos.”

She creased her eyebrows. “Hope? Optimism? Love? Lust?”

I shrugged nonchalantly. “Something like that.”

“That? I just gave you four different choices; you gotta pick one, Twi!”

I chuckled, a heavy gust of air passing through my hollow interior but emitting no sound. “Maybe hope. Or my inner dreamer? Where’s Kermit when I need him?” Pinkie opened her mouth materializing a guitar, but I raised an open hand at her, and she stopped. “Sorry.”

She giggled. “You’re right, I already hit my impromptu song per day quota.”

“You have a quota?”

“Sure I do. Don’t you?”

I didn’t. Should I have had one? I don’t think I should have had one. But quotas are so much fun! More numbers to keep track of with chronological requirements? What’s not to like? I might even have smiled if I weren’t busy fantasizing about a certain friend of mine. Only meek attempts at words escaped me. “I haven’t wondered so much about what her lips taste like until now that I know I’ll never find out.”

She wagged her eyebrows, smirking. “Which lips?”

Ugh. We’ve been over this, I do not– wait. Plead the 5th. “The ones just under her nose.”

Pinkie slid her hand from her nose down to her chest. “Most your body’s under your nose! And I think the answer I’m looking for is right under my nose.” She crinkled her eyebrows, closing an eye. “Wait. No, that can’t be right. Oh! Under your nose!” she squeaked, booping me. Heavens, her hands were soft.

I found myself whining, “I just can’t take being so unattractive. I am everybody’s platonic friend.”

Pinkie frowned, and judging by her eyebrows and a faintly perceptible droop in her hair, it was genuine. “You’re not unattractive, Twilight.”

“Says the one who’s not attracted to me.”

Pinkie stuck out her tongue. “Nyeh!” Retracting it, she retorted, “I totally did not say that. I know getting friend-zoned can hurt your self-confidence – believe me, I’ve been there – but I still totally think you’re a cutie!”

She thinks I’m a cutie? I wasn’t sure what undertones such a statement had. Sunset never told me I was a cutie. She acknowledged that I was not ugly, strictly speaking, and she even nodded with a “yes” when I asked her if I was cute, but a cutie? Did that… mean something?

Chemicals stealing the wheel, I inched my hand towards her half of the bubble between us. My glasses falling down my nose, I inquired, “Do you, uh, want to, um, do whatever romantic and/or sexual behaviours humans normally do with each other when romantic and/or sexual attraction is present? With as many or as few strings as desired?”

A warm smile, an empathetic boop, and a strangely warm, “No.”

“Oh. Really not my day for coming onto girls, huh?”

She shook her head, still warm but not emphatic. “You know, usually I’d be all over my friends if they wanted that. Kissing your friends is actually super fun, even if you don’t make it a whole big romantic production.”

Blink.

“…but I don’t do that with friends who are vulnerable, and you’re not exactly in the bestest of places, Twi. It’s not personal!” she shouted, then quickly gestured her open-faced right-hand in front of her eyes than mouth, as if crossing herself upside-down with a cupcake. “Per the Pinkamena Code.” Loudly she added in a whisper (a paradox resolved only by virtue of being Pinkie Pie), “The Code is a super big deal to me!”

I pursed my lips into an o. “Oh. Fair enough. Although, just so you know for the future… the offer’s open, maybe?”

She shook her head cryptically, ever smiling. Absent a response, I continued, “I don’t know. If any one of my friends asked me out right now, or wanted to kiss or whatever, I think I’d say yes at this point.”

Pinkie nodded. “I don’t need my Pinkie Sense to sense a ‘but’ there. And not that kind of but–”

“–But I don’t want any one of my friends.”

“You want Sunset,” she said.

I nodded. She was more right than she could know, but given she’s Pinkie, she probably did know. Before I let the waterworks erupt, I quickly tagged on, “But I’m fine. I’m definitely fine. This is fine. I’m fine.”

Pinkie rested her hand against her chin. “Nah, you’re not fine. But you will be!”

I grumbled. “Thanks. Well, it’s official: today sucks.”

She raised an eyebrow with a one-sided smile. “Well, everyone has bad days sometimes. But you know what?”

“Hm?”

Pinkie shared a warmth with me via eye contact. Soft but firm, she said, “Today might be a bad day, but tomorrow is going to be a great day!”

I whispered, repeating incredulously, “Tomorrow’s going to be a great day.” A beat and a quick shrug. “I guess. Maybe. Pinkie, how can you possibly be so sure?”

Pinkie stuck her tongue out at me. “Silly, Twilight! You just told me!”

I rolled my eyes, failing to suppress a smile of my own. I think her whole happiness shtick might be contagious; given she’s patient zero, in all likelihood I’ve become infected. “I don’t think it works like that, Pinkie.”

She shook her head. “Nah, sure it does! See? It just did!”

I snickered. “If you say so.”

“I do say so! Hug?”

“Hug.” A moment, and there was she wrapped around me again for a moment. It’s funny – for someone who propositioned her only minutes ago, that hug felt purely platonic. At least, it didn’t feel any less platonic than any other hug I’ve exchanged with Pinkie Pie, although given the outfits I hear she shows up to work in, maybe that isn’t saying all that much anymore. I appreciated it regardless.

“Hey, Twilight?” Pinkie cooed above the hug.

“Yes?”

“I can’t tell you how everything will work out with Sunset, but could I promise you one thing?”

“Mm?”

“No matter what happens, I promise you’ll always have at least one friend at your side throughout it all.” She squeezed me a little harder than I might have been ordinarily comfortable with, but I’d be lying if I claimed I minded.

I nuzzled her cheek. “Thank you, Pinkie.”

“I love you, Twilight.”

“Love you, too.”

I try to keep my journal entries objective, but as I write this entry – this final entry – I’m drawn to self-reflect. As I write, I find my hand cramped up and my eyes distracted staring at my phone optimistically, expectantly, desperately. Almost a week has passed since that fateful afternoon at Chili Thai, and though the world keeps spinning, it’s spinning a little faster without her by my side.

Yes, faster. If we were together, I’d be spinning counterclockwise. What can I tell you, angular momentum is romantic.

I remember when I first read that and thought of you.

You. Yes, you. I’m dropping the façade. This isn’t my story; it’s ours. I’m sending you my journal – the little journal I’ve kept the past few months filled with the moments we’ve shared – because I don’t want it anymore. I can’t bear to keep it when I can’t keep you.

I want you, Sunset. I don’t mean that as a euphemism. I do mean that like the Spanish. I know you know what I mean, friend.

I want you to have the journal. Maybe reading it will jog something in you. Maybe it already has, if you’ve read this far.

I know you won’t change your mind and suddenly fall in love with me. I know if a relationship was going to happen, it would have happened by now. I’m okay with that. But if my rosy eyes let you see yourself the way I see you, maybe that would be enough.

It seems every waking moment since Saturday has been tripping my memories of you. Walking to class I pass Saddle Smith and Mane Hall, and I tumble in the memories we’ve shared outside and in. Gazing outside from Nerd’s (I still can’t believe campus has a building called “Nerd’s”), my eyes meet Daybreak Park, home of the statue of Charlotte the Fourths. Passing that statue, I can’t help but reminiscence about the first time I told you I loved you. I can’t help but whisper it to myself, as if you’re still there to hear. As if you’re still here to say it back.

I miss you, Sunset. I don’t know if you still want to talk to me, still want to be my friend. But I want to be yours more than ever. I don’t want to be the clingy one, but we haven’t spoken in a week, so I’m sending the journal. Maybe you’ll read this, and it’ll all be better.

I know that’s wishful thinking.

Wishes. Once I wished to be with you, romantically.

Now that you’re gone, all I wish is to be with you at all.

I don’t need a kiss from you. A “hi, how’ve you been?” or an “I miss you too, friend” would be enough.

I don’t know if I’ll ever get that much after everything we’ve been through.

Still, even without hope to back me, on my most primal level, I need something. Wherever you are, whatever you’ve been doing, I need you to know I love you, Sunset Shimmer.

I love you.

Author's Note

Based on a true story.