Shit, I can't believe I woke up late again!
I mumble under my breath as I step through the empty halls of Crystal Prep Academy. Brown, hazel eyes leer left and right, hoping to avoid any contact. Classes had already started and I was quite on my own I realize. I tug the backpack on my shoulder, adjusting the strap. Those who are tardy, are trouble–while not actually a saying, it's pretty much this school's motto.
Last kid who came in late, three days in a row, well... I haven't seen that particular background loner-geek in a long while, haven't I? I shiver at the thought. If that were the case, the fact I started months into the semester, and am currently on my third strike, well.
Plop, plop, plop.
Or something akin to that. My footfalls echo throughout the stretch of the vacant hall, drowning me out of my thoughts. I mutter untruths to myself to keep the mind calm, "third time in three days? 'Oh I'm sorry, I was just looking for my glasses," I fake a pout before shaking my head. "I mean, what's the worst that could happen, they suspend me?" I let out a forced snort through my nose at the notion; suspension for not showing up. I freakin' wished, man.
That'd be perfect. Hell, that'd be better than the rumor and I really was trying to look for my spectacles. Outside of the rumor part I mean, unless everyone's just trying to scare the new kid... rest easy, lavender haired nerd. With a strut in my step, I walk along, passing by lockers, and closed classroom doors, taking in the monotonous decorations. Tape must have seen a lot of use at this school. By monotonous, I of course mean: black flags, grey-silver tinsel and ol' navy blue balloons.
By tape, I mean, well, a lot of tape.
Wouldn't take much of a gander as to why; an upcoming school dance. However, as with every cliché goes, Just like high schools across the country, Crystal Prep Acad. has taken to the idea of having a split-morp in place of prom. Literally reverse prom. It's stupid as hell. Apparently, the plan for this place, 'morp' represents mutuality, equality, normality, and the mundane. So, that apparently means: no bright colors, no loud music, nothing casual, no--well, you get the idea.
Life, but the color bleeds dry.
Also something about how the girls ask the guys this time around, but that's not my problem. Fuckin' anti-prom. Not that I'd be going or anything, no. Just the idea of not having any freedom and all but be forced to conform.
It's essentially a lack of expression and an act of oppression! Something about that rubs me the wrong way.
The only reason why this school decided to jump onto the bandwagon is that Canterlot High would split the funds—hence split-morp—if we did and if only if they were allowed to come.
A large blue, white, and yellow banner pops into my head. I groan, physically.
The Wondercolts; that school is much more of a headache. Bright colors, needlessly so. Annoying student body—I vaguely remember that red-yellow-bacon-haired girl from the Battle of the Bands.
She seemed cool—everyone else, yeesh, I can do without that migraine, thank you very much. And what, didn't we lose against them? Man, I really don't care. Here I am, such in deep thought--bacon--and I wonder why I'm late to class every day. Couldn't get any worse, really. I roll my eyes as my feet finally come to stop. Economics, second period.
I open the door without remorse, like a glutton for punishment. A masochist in disguise. I gulp as I stare at my nightmares come to life. A few—by that, a lot—more people are in the room than I was used to there being. I feel a little awkward as I stare at the more-people hovering over the less-desks, and take a reverse step out of the room.
I glance up just in case I walked into the wrong Economics class. Damn vision. Seeing the plaque confirms it in large white, written-like-a-child's, ariel script font: 'Economics with Mister Dolla-Dolla Bills.' Huh, I was just thinking on how today couldn't get any worse, too. I stare into the very occupied room blankly; the abyss stares back. A lot of abysses stare back, actually and it's kind of unnerving. I gulp quietly as I re-enter the classroom. "Hey nerds," I say lamely as I throw everyone a double-digit sign of utmost peace and prosperity.
No one says anything back and it's back to being awkward for me.
I move along quietly to my desk in the far corner, only to stop and see how it's just as well occupied. By bacon--er, I-I mean that one girl that just so happened to be on my mind earlier. She spots me as I made to move towards my desk, and her arm subconsciously reaches up in a shy wave. At least I think it's subconscious, who the hell would wave at me on purpose?
I snicker mentally as I approach, "ah, hey?" I start out; she sits at my desk with her once-raised arm now clasping over her other. "Come around here often?" God, shoot me now. She laughs at my attempt at breaking the ice; it's adorable, but of course.
She shakes her head as she calms, "God no, I'm only here for the class-merger just like everyone else. The joint project, remember?" Joint project, what is she going on ab... oh. Shit, that's today?! I glance over to the calendar on the wall; coincidence, yes, marked today, of course today, and circled, why not:
Canterlot High/Crystal Prep Acad.
Class Merger
Don't forget
"Huh, neat," I mutter to myself before looking back at the seat-stealing fiend. "Right so, any reason as to why you just so happened to take m'seat of all seats?" She wriggles a little under my scrutinizing gaze—if it can be scrutinizing anyway; needing glasses and not wearing them, trying to squint at someone, for all I know I could be giving her the flirty eyes. God, I hope I'm not giving her the flirty eyes.
I am one hundred percent giving her the flirty eyes.
She doesn't say anything as she gives me a somewhat dodgy smile. I groan outward, "sorry, sorry. I'm not tryna make anything weird, I swear, it's hard to see, but I can definitely tell you're all like, 'what the heck is up with this dude,' I get it a lot." I sigh as I pinch the bridge of my nose, and I'm rambling. Who knows why I'm rambling, but I'm rambling. Why am I a rambler? "Look, would it make it less weird if I said your hair definitely looks like bacon to me." I make a suggestive motion with my hand, her—I wanna say blue? Cyan?—eyes follow it for a second before meeting mine.
She laughs again and oh my God, she is literally a snorting angel, with bacon hair. "Okay, okay, sorry. I'm just used to guys hitting on me all the time at my school," I groan inwardly again. I totally would, too. Well, thankfully I'm not doing that. "So, what, I'm guessing you're Cake Mix, my cross-class partner?" Her hand reaches outward, in greetings, and I stare at it like an idiot.
Well, what else am I supposed to do? I didn't even know I had a partner! I shake my head, reaching outward with my own hand. "Yes'm, Cake Ready-Made Mix, and you're, ahm..." I fall silent as I realize, well not only that I have a partner, but how I don't even know partner's name. Our hands connect, fingers folding into each other as they do. A firm shake, despite my less-than firm conversational-manners, and I give an apprehensive grin, "don't recall if we've met, actually." Have we? I know I've seen her: Battle of the Bands and the, erm... Friendship Games I wanna say? "No, don't think we have," I shake my head once more.
She looks inquisitively at me for a moment before shaking her own head, "that we haven't, hehe." Her giggle sends butterflies a-flappin' in my stomach and I nod. "Sunset Shimmer, the next big up-coming director in film history!" She grins up at me and I quickly notice our hands have yet to disconnect. She just so happens to share the sentiment, "oops, sorry," she mutters outwardly with a cheeky little grin, "but yeah, remember my name. It's gonna be huge!"
I couldn't help but smile broadly, as I laughed out an "I will!"
We totally forgot we were still holding hands, somehow.
Author's Note
Dammit, how did this go from being a one-shot, to a two-piece? I need to stop trying to write romance—but-but I can't
I'd forgotten my glasses, of course.
I'd forget my own head if it wasn't attached to my body too, I swear. After school yesterday, after everything that had happened. After partnering up with Sunset, she'd told me to meet her in front of her apartment complex in Little Jamaica.
For the project, not for anything else. She'd had the idea to explain the fluctuations of the economy, inflation and... deflation? of the dollar in a short-film! Totally down with that as it required minimal effort on my end. However, boy, was I surprised when I found out what I was doing. First I'd thought we'd both cast, which I was fine with not doing that, but my job? My job was to film.
And I'd forgotten my glasses. Which is where we are now as I struggle to keep the focus above her waist–like she'd said, for the time being.
"So, you want me to film you... and your sock puppet cast?" I ask enthusiastically, albeit a little skeptically... maybe vice versa. The bacon girl simply nods once in response, holding up two dangling socks, both with little smilies and wigs, in the camcorder.
This was absolutely normal for her, which I guess made it normal for me if I really wanted that C minus. I shrug and the lens going out of focus, further blurs the already bacon-esque blot of a girl.
If she had a stand, she'd definitely be set. I am not meant to hold a camera.
Sunset dangles her sock people one more time and laughs a little nervously as she notices I'm not keeping the device trained on her anymore. Didn't mean to, it happens. I'm human too y'know. "Ugh, I know it's a little silly, but until now I've never filmed..." her grin turns sheepish, "with someone else before. Trust me, it's an experience for me too." I give her a thumbs up.
"Same, never filmed in general, but sure."
With her free hand, she rubs the back of her head as she looks away a little dejectedly. She adds, more under her breath than to me, "kinda embarrased, if I'm honest, now."
I snort, she knows I'm practically blind, not deaf right? At the noise, her attention turns back to me, her gaze–from what I can tell, doesn't meet mine. An idea I-don't-know-why forms as I focus the camera. I look through the digital screen at the girl and I feel the corners of my mouth tug for a moment; if I zoom, she shouldn't be too blurry, right?
My mouth opens and words spill forth without my consent, "definitely picked the right person," her attention rises and meets the lens. I smile as I hold the screen a little closer as her grin returns, but something behind it hides away. No idea what, but I continue, "can't even see what you're doin' with those strange sockfellows anyway, so guess that cuts away any embarrassment, right?"
Sunset barks out a laugh and I can't help myself but laugh alongside her. "Heheh," her shoulders still as she calms herself down. "Ye-yeah, Cake, it definitely cuts it away." She snickers softly as her–well, I'll be damned, they're quite clear through the screen now, aren't they?
Her cyan eyes seem to meet mine through the video. Sunset's smile is just about the warmest thing I'd ever seen before now I realize. Sunset's, questionably inviting mouth moves and I realize audio is coming from her, "your special talent cheering people up by any chance?"
What does one say to something like that? Never what I say. Fact.
The words leave my mouth before I have the chance to stop them. Again. "If by cheering people up, you mean botching several weddings with crispy-cakes, sure." She rolls her eyes, but continues to beam at me nonetheless. I take it's time to start recording finally and I hit the unfamiliar red button.
Am I supposed to talk while I'm recording? Do I cut out my own voice? How the hell would I even do that? Whatever. I look at Sunset and I give her another, more unsure thumbs up. A brow raises on her forehead before she returns one in kind. Must not be a common thing at her school, "so, y'wanna dangle those socks one more time for the camera?" It's all in jest of course, have to flick someone shit if you know something embarrassing about someone.
It's the fourth rule of friendship!
She snorts at that one, "I'll dangle my socks for you," and I guffaw in response. The husky tone she used whisks itself away as she laughs heartily. I feel a heat in my cheeks start to take place and I chuckle a little. She finally dons both sock puppets, doing little entrance jigs as they 'come to life.'
She laughs and–as I've gotten rather used to it by now, I laugh in turn.
"Hahalright, action!"
. . . . .
"M-m'lady," ever a gentleman, even with his last words, Sir Sockington caresses his lady's cotton-cheek. "It was," he coughs violently in her embrace, "it was an honour to serve under you and I know," he hacks again and again, a little animatedly. "And I know, you will ma-manage my s-stock port... folio..."
With his last words, Lady Sockabella lowers his head to the stained floor. She weeps silently, nodding her head violently with unshed sock-tears. "For you, my love... our money with flow on."
And Sir Sockington was no more.
Having not cried at the death of Sir Sockington of Sockington Tuxedories; having awe'd at the sheer willpower of Lady Sockabella of the Crown, I ended the recording. While not the film I'd planned to record, it was definitely a film deserving of an, at least a C plus.
It was pointedly obvious neither of us paid attention in economics.
Besides that, I've come to find that Sunset is really good at acting. Crazy good, even with a sock puppet cast! During the entire film, her characters were spot on. She definitely tugged at my emotions, anyway.
I turn my head to the girl, the original think-tank of this idea. Sunset, having been right over my shoulder as she watched alongside me, was silent the entire film. Until now, her eyes hadn't left the miniature screen, but as the video cut to black, her eyes meet mine.
Being this close, I first notice the warmth of her breath down my neck as she speaks, "it-it's perfect... Which leads to me quickly noticing she's been leaning into me. How I'd not noticed until after the film is beyond me. Her hair fills my vision, but it's the scent of pineapples that throws me for a loop.
And the sudden taste of it.
Sunset's lips pull away from mine as her blushing form retreats. A large, toothy grin splits across her face as she looks up at me, "we did it!" She exclaims. Her body still leaning into my chest, her head comes crashing in for a second attack. She plants a big one on my cheek and all I feel is heat radiating from it, "we actually did it!"
We did? We did!
We did what? Did she just kiss me? Pineapples, never would have thou–she just kissed me. Twice! My mouth gapes open and I struggle to find any fitting words. She just continues to smile radiantly at me. "Uhm." I, however, have no words I come to find. Luckily enough, Sunset does.
Apparently.
"Go to Morp with me," she practically demands, her serious tone denying any levity in the situation.
I trap myself in the pools that are her eyes and I simply, dumbly nod. I'd never seen so deep into anyone's eyes before. They're gorgeous; if I had my glasses, they'd probably be even more pretty. Not like the words would leave my mouth anyway. Her lips once more making sweet, tangy contact with mine desolves any notion of talking, and I'm entirely fine with that.
As she pulls away, I come to find, evidently not entirely.
"So, what, didja just think 'I'll ask out whoever I get as my partner' or what?" Ruining the moment, always will be good at that. Sunset punches me in the arm. Kinda hard, honestly.
"Oh, shut up and give me another kiss, ya blind cameraman." And I do, with no further words. All in all, I'd say I didn't see—not like I could anyway—this panning out the way it did, but I couldn't have been more fine with something in my life.
. . . . .
After the weekend, when we walked into the school with our completed short-film, it'll have been hand in hand. I'll have forgotten my glasses, we would share an awkward laugh when I brought it up.
It'd be, er... something, it'd be...
Quite the spectacle.
Author's Note
I know it's devilishly short, but that's because–well, I hate myself for loving this stupid little thing, and if not, it would have been a... goddamned three-parter.
Sorry not sorry, folks! I've a sweet tooth needs sweetening, but not that much!
Credit for the image goes to my good friend Sarah–I really need to get in contact with her again lol.
Little back story for the image inside: I'd originally commissioned the piece a while back, when I'd planned on using it for another story altogether.
That story didn't pan out very well, the way I went about it. It was promptly taken down and the image collected dust... until now!
but of course I'll go over it again later!
