Their lunch continued for a considerable while longer. Flash Sentry seriously started believing that the entire event was staged—and that Twilight Sparkle was actually off for the day and just "faking" being at the labs as an excuse to steal some precious time with Principal Cadance. How Cadance herself afforded the time, Flash couldn't begin to guess. But he wasn't about to complain. He absorbed everything the woman had to say, laugh, giggle, or smile with the eagerness of a universal sponge.

The two were incredibly adorable together: Cadance and Twilight, that is. As it turned out, Cadance truly was the scientist's childhood babysitter. She even had old photos stored digitally on her pink phone to prove it—much to Twilight's blushing embarrassment. But for all of Twilight's show of flustered emotion, there was no denying the fact that she absolutely cherished Cadance—on a level of love that belonged to sisters, or perhaps something even more ardent. It was an adoration that Cadance more-than-returned in full... or beyond full.

To say that Flash felt jealous was an understatement, but he made no show of it. He had experienced insane crushes before, and surely this too would fade in time.

It would fade away, he thought, as he rode home with Sunset and Twilight that afternoon, still delighting in the smell of Cadance's floral/spicy perfume.

It would fade, he pondered, as he closed his eyes while taking a warm shower and thought about nothing but Cadance's pastel tresses, her pristine pink skin, her dazzling makeup and heart-melting smile.

It will fade, Flash insisted, standing before the microwave that night as a sad frozen dinner spun through the window, and all he could think about was her gentle hand rubbing his shoulder as she gave him words of encouragement and just to imagine...

Just to imagine... ...

Just to imagine an angel like that... ... ...

...singing.

What would she think about his old audio samples?

Would she question why his past voice was so much... deeper?

Would Cadance be confused that—in his past—Flash was far manlier? Far bigger? Far stronger?

How would she put two and two together—between the teenage hunk he almost was in the past and the insufferably wet napkin of a sissy he had been transformed into now?

She'd probably realize he was a freak—beyond saving—and abandon him entirely. Not that it mattered.

Not that it mattered.

Flash sighed. Minutes later, he placed his meal on a tray and trudged across the apartment towards his bedroom.

It didn't matter. Cadance was a principal. A mentor. A former babysitter.

She was only showing casual interest in him because she saw a soul who needed guidance.

That's all it was. That's all it ever was. Universal benevolence... a selfless sympathy that Flash couldn't ever come to understand.

And—as always—he was looking too much into it. He looked too much into everything.

Yes—Cadance asked for his old audio samples in exchange for hers. So what? It would be the same sort of attention she'd give to a young person like Scootaloo. She—at least—earned the attention. What had Flash earned? From anyone in life?

His head was bowed into the steam of his microwaved meal as he turned one final corner and—

"Gaah!" Sunset Shimmer bumped into him. "Watch it—!"

"Oh gosh!" Flash juggled his tray—nearly losing his dinner—before stumbling into a breathless stance. "Oh Sunset! I'm so sorry—"

"Snrkkkkt—hahahaha!" The woman laughed, resting a strong hand on his shoulder. "Will you relax? Why do you look like you just came back from a funeral?"

Flash blinked... then eventually rolled his eyes. Once again tricked by a telepath. "I'm... I-I'm tired, Sunset..."

"I believe you~"

"Sorry, I just..." He strolled past her and towards his room. "...gonna get up early in the morning. I'll do more chores. I promise."

"Flash—"

"Thanks for everything today—"

She turned as he walked by. "About today. How are you feeling?"

He stopped in place, turning around with the tray. He simply gave the woman a knowing squint.

"Yes. I know. But humor me." She folded her arms. "Please—answer me out loud. Face to face."

Typically, Flash would have given her the silent treatment. But this week had simply felt so different, and he hated the idea of relapsing back into the moody little butt monk.

"I'm..." Flash sighed, glancing aside as the tray in his grasp lowered slightly. "...I'm okay... but I'm not okay..."

Sunset nodded. "Sounds perfectly understandable."

"Really?" Flash blanched. "Sounds like the most confusing answer I've given anyone. Ever."

The woman chuckled warmly. "That's what makes it so honest and real." She walked over and knelt before him, bringing her gaze below his—a rare treat. "Flash... I was very neglectful of you today."

He tongued the inside of his mouth, avoiding her gaze. "I'm... not—like—your kid or nothing..."

"Flash, look at me."

Exhaling, he did so. Pretty sad eyes met a hard turquoise gaze.

Sunset squeezed his shoulder tenderly as she said: "Bringing you out to the mall—out there with so many people crowded around—that was short-sighted of me. I figured you would be ready for that again after how well your week has gone since the soccer meet-up... but..."

"It's not your fault, Sunset," Flash said. "You can't be helped for how pathetic I am these days."

"I wish you'd stop saying that."

"I wish someone else would just go ahead and say it." Flash nevertheless bore a hopeful little smile. "But—it wasn't so bad in the end. Really. Please don't—like—beat yourself up over it or nothing, Sunset. I'm... I'm not so bad off. Really."

Sunset raised her hand up, caressing the boi's hair. He didn't protest—and they both knew it. Among other things. Which is probably why the telepath then said out loud: "It's a good thing that Cadance was there, huh?"

Flash felt his heart beating. His grip of his tray hardened, causing it to shake a bit. "Cadance is... is..." Flash's mind blurted a lot of pretty, gorgeous, admirable adjectives that bounced off the walls of his skull, but he chose: "Nice."

Sunset fought the urge to snort. "Among other things. To be honest..." She stood up. "I kinda envy Twilight too."

Flash blinked. Hard. "You do?"

"Mmmm... a little. But... y'know..." Sunset stuck a tongue out. "Kinda too in love with the baby to drool over the babysitter."

"You make it sound like cradle robbing."

"Not all cradles gotta be tiny." Sunset waved. "Enjoy your meal, Flash. And if you want to sleep in for once—I won't complain." She walked off. "You've more than earned it this week."

Flash watched her feet shuffling across the aparment complex. His knees shook. He fought it—but eventually stammered: "Sunset?"

She shuffled to a pause near the turn in the hall. "Yeah, Flash?"

"Did... ... ... Cadance and I interact much? Y'know... before the blackout?" He bit his bottom lip. "Like... if we knew each other really well—like friends or something—you would at least tell me that, wouldn't you?"

"... ... ..." Sunset stared at him. Deadpan—with the slightest touch of ennui. "Eat well, Flash," she ultimately said, disappearing from beyond the hallway. "Before it gets cold."

"... ... ..." Flash slowly turned and retreated to his bedroom. Between the dark crawl of the evening and whatever he was vegetating to online, it took a damnably long time to finish that meal. Or anything—for that matter.

Author's Note

Act Three:

Dusty Sheds and Rippled Muscles

Coming Soon...