The Incredible Gravitational Pull of Canterlot Donut Shops

by mushroompone

Rating: everyone
Tags: Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Romance, Soarin, Sunburst
Length: 8021

Two ponies meet, depart, and meet once more

Everypony has their own beginnings and endings. It is ever so rare to find somepony whose life is parallel to yours, each phase beginning and ending in unison.

Rare, that is, but not impossible. Especially when you lend each other a helping hoof.

Written for the Original Pairings Group's Speed Writing Contest

Published 2020-12-31 01:10:01 UTC
Last updated 2020-12-31 01:10:01 UTC

Begin

The bell above the door sounded precisely like his magic.

There was no way Soarin could have known this, of course-- he hadn't met Sunburst yet, and even then it would be quite some time before he recognized the exact cadence and tone of his magic.

To Soarin, at the beginning of the summer, the bell was just a bell. Sunburst was just a customer. Donut Joe's was just a pit stop on the way to better things.

Soarin spared a small glance over his shoulder, casual and comfortable as always. "Anywhere you like!" he said. "Be right there!"

Sunburst wasn't listening. Those who knew him well would not have been surprised, but Soarin didn't know Sunburst at all.

The awkward teenaged unicorn side-stepped the door as it closed behind him with a sort of practiced grace, though it was the only thing remotely graceful about him. He was reading a book, as he always was, though the specifics of what book it was and what chapter he was on are lost to the golden softness of the past. All that matters is that it was big, it was dusty, and it made a heavy whap as he dropped it onto the table.

Soarin dropped another stack of dishes into his bin, then kicked the bin across the tiled floor with one twig-like back leg. Even this didn't get Sunburst's snout out of his book.

"Alright, what can I getcha?" Soarin asked. He somehow managed to hold a steady tone, even as he came to a screeching halt beside the booth.

Sunburst did not reply.

Soarin cleared his throat. "Uh… hello?" He leaned over to one side, resting his foreleg on the table and staring down at the young stallion before him. "You gonna order?"

Sunburst turned a page.

"Hey. Sunshine." Soarin put a hoof on the open page. "Food?"

"Oh!" Sunburst looked up.

There was a moment then, however brief, that felt different than the others.

A poet may have called it love at first sight, though the poet would have been wrong. A cynic would have called it infatuation, though that would have been wrong, as well.

Soarin would have called it a sunrise.

Sunburst may have compared it to the moment of silence as a wave crests, seconds before crashing onto the shore.

In other words, the beginning.

Sunburst quietly adjusted his glasses. "Right. I'll just have the usual."

"Cool, cool." Soarin nodded. "I'd love to know what that is, though."

Sunburst's brows furrowed ever so slightly.

"I'm new?" Soarin said, gesturing to himself broadly and graciously, as if the sight of him may jog Sunburst's memory.

"You are?"

Soarin blinked. "Yeah. I started a few days ago, dude," he explained.

"Oh." Sunburst stared blankly at his waiter.

"How do you go somewhere enough to have a usual, but have no idea who's serving you?" Soarin asked, more to himself than to Sunburst. "What's your usual?"

Sunburst blinked. "Huh." He scowled a little, dropping his gaze to the floor. "I don't remember."

"You--" Soarin spluttered a little, unsure of how to respond. "How do you not-- isn't it your usual?!"

"Well, sure," Sunburst said, resting his book on the table. "I haven't ordered it in a long time. It's just… the usual."

Soarin made a throaty squeak of disbelief. "But-- you've eaten it, haven't you?"

"Of course."

"So?" Soarin prompted, giving his customer a gentle punch on the shoulder.

Sunburst took the hit like a nudged bowling pin. "So what?"

"What did it taste like, Sunshine?" Soarin gave his customer another, much gentler shove.

"It's Sunburst," Sunburst corrected, brushing his scraggly mane out of his eyes. "And I don't remember. It's my usual."

Soarin paused.

Though it was early on a Sunday morning, it wasn't exactly bustling in Donut Joe's. There were a few ponies studying the paper alone, and one pair which seemed to be dining together on their way to work, but it was otherwise empty.

Soarin wondered privately if it was considered rude or unprofessional to sit with a customer.

He quickly realized he didn't care.

Soarin slid into the booth across from Sunburst. "I think you and I have different definitions of 'usual'."

Sunburst scowled at the unwelcome company and snapped his book shut. "Oh?" he asked, as if already weary with Soarin.

"The usual," Soarin explained, suddenly taking on the distinguished academic air that Sunburst had worked so hard to cultivate, "is what you order because it is just so outrageously fantastic that you can't even imagine eating something else. It's your favorite. Your number one recommendation. You don't just forget your usual."

"Maybe you don't," Sunburst said, folding his hooves over his book. "My usual is a comforting go-to. It fades into the rhythm of my day. It's simple, bland, and familiar."

Soarin laughed. "Just not that familiar, huh?"

Sunburst rolled his eyes. "Just bring me a bowl of oatmeal, would you?" He slowly reopened his book.

"No way, Sunshine." Soarin popped out of the booth and back onto his hooves. "I'm gonna bring you something worthy of usual status."

Sunburst sighed. "Really. I'd rather have the oatmeal."

"Was oatmeal your usual?" Soarin asked.

"Well…" Sunburst thought about that. It was certainly a baked good, he thought-- probably a muffin or a scone or something. "No, but--"

"Then you're not getting oatmeal." Soarin held his chin high, a superior grin curling his lips. "You're getting your new usual."

Sunburst set his jaw. "Fine. If you must."

"Oh, I must," Soarin said jovially, trotting off to compose a breakfast.

The golden light of the morning sun glimmered on the glass display case. While it managed to bathe the whole room in an orange light, it also washed out all sign of the treats inside.

Soarin put both hooves up on the counter and leaned forward, searching for the owner who most typically served such confections.

"Mr. Joe?" Soarin called.

"Figure it out, kid!" replied the gruff voice from the kitchen. "I'm fetlock-deep in bagel dough!"

Soarin glanced back at Sunburst, who was already reabsorbed in his book. Like the flick of a switch with that stallion.

He smiled a private, secret smile, and snuck behind the counter.

It was only a matter of time before he found his way back here, of course. Naturally, an employee of a donut shop would find himself serving donuts at one time or another. But Soarin was new, and he hadn't done this yet-- and thus it felt very special.

Here, behind the counter, the baked goods were closer than ever. Soarin was nothing if not a sweet tooth, and the treats in the case were more than tempting-- they were all but leaping out at him and straight down into his gullet.

Soarin used the wrist of one wing to slide the case open. If the sight of the goodies was enough to make his mouth water, the smell very nearly knocked him flat.

The sunlight was scattered by the glass, and sparkled atop each fluffy delight within. Donuts, crullers, cupcakes, muffins, popovers-- you name it, it was in here, and looking as neat as the cover of a magazine.

And, through the glass, Soarin spied on Sunburst.

Only for a moment. And only because he knew that Sunburst wouldn't look up. And only because he knew that, if he did tear his eyes away from that book, the glare of the sunlight would obscure him entirely.

The feeling was hard to explain.

It was like flying, but not. Flying was about competition. It was about pushing yourself and beating your wings as hard as you could and the air pulling tears from your eyes.

This… this was acceleration. This was weightlessness. This was a lungful of fresh air.

Soarin brushed his mane away from his face. The small touch broke him out of his trance.

Breakfast.

Not just breakfast-- the best breakfast.

In Soarin's opinion, just about anything in this case could qualify. There was a reason he had picked this place over the many, many others in Canterlot, after all.

Sunburst wouldn't like just anything. He'd like something mature. A scone. Or a muffin, maybe. Possibly a crossaint.

No. Definitely muffin.

Soarin closed this section of the case, then opened the next one over. As he bent down to examine its contents, he caught Sunburst peeking.

A little smile. Soarin must have been on the right track.

Something orange seemed like the obvious choice. Sunburst may as well have been a ray of morning sun himself, after all-- glowing from the inside out, wisps of yellow magic curling off his horn as he turned the page of his book.

That was a normal thing to think, wasn't it?

Most muffins were at least sort of orange. Or yellow-ish. But one stood out: cranberry-citrus, down on the bottom rack.

Okay, fine. They were cranberry-orange. Perhaps a little on-the-snout, but something told Soarin this was precisely the sort of thing Sunburst 'treated' himself to. If he treated himself to anything at all.

Soarin snatched out a cranberry-orange muffin, quietly admiring how well he'd matched Sunburst's hue.

He set it out on the counter for consideration.

It looked good. It looked right. It also looked rather lonely.

A usual needed more. It had to be unique, a particular combination that was truly personal, distinctive, one-of-a-kind!

Soarin rubbed his chin, carefully considering the muffin before him.

A drink!

Soarin spun to face the drink menu, written in neat chalk letters above a variety of complicated-looking machines. These things presumably made coffee, though Soarin thought they may have looked more at home in a chem lab.

Sunburst would most certainly like a hot drink. He seemed the type to want hot drinks year-round, even through the summer.

Coffee was out. Sunburst probably didn't like coffee, anyways.

There was one hot drink Soarin was perfectly capable of making: tea. Boil some water, stick a little bag in it-- boom. Classy drinks in only a moment.

Soarin quickly set a kettle rumbling away.

Beside the coffee machines was a series of drawers, all of them labelled with names that were most certainly not flavors: earl grey, constant comment, Bittish breakfast…

Soarin opened a drawer and sniffed. Sharp, strong, and bitter.

"Eugh," he commented softly, pushing the drawer shut again.

Sunburst looked up from his book, craning his neck to see what exactly his waiter was fussing over. The sight made him smile-- a personal, secretive smile.

Actually, the sight of anypony fussing over Sunburst at all was a strange one. It made him feel... well, it was hard to describe.

It felt a bit like magic, but not. Magic was careful, planned, intricate-- something that took work and effort and massive amounts of studying.

This was light. It was a sparkling, bubbly feeling, like a carbonated drink.

Sunburst felt his glasses slipping down his snout, and hastily pushed them back up. The smudges on the lenses were enough to bring him back to reality.

He looked back down at his book.

Soarin continued on his olfactory tour of the tea case, barely holding back his comments about the strong and unpleasant scents he found inside. He was nothing if not a sweet-tooth, after all, and this box had not a bit of sugar to offer him.

Never once did it cross Soarin's mind that it was an odd thing to do. Personally constructing a breakfast for a stranger, that is.

Just as his hope was fading, he happened upon a smell that reminded him of gingerbread. Or perhaps it was pie?

"Hm. Chai," he read off the drawer.

As if on cue, the kettle began to whistle. Soarin grabbed a tea bag out of the drawer and dropped it in the bottom of a cup, carefully pouring the boiling water over it.

It really did smell like dessert.

Proud of his work, Soarin arranged the muffin and tea on a tray. He considered it a moment, smiled, then lifted it carefully onto his back and made his way towards Sunburst’s table once more.

“Ta-da!” Soarin announced, his head held high. “I present your new usual.”

Sunburst watched as Soarin placed the muffin and the tea down in front of him. He seemed less interested in the food, however, and more in the way that Soarin moved to serve it. It was just one of those things unicorns did, to be fair-- yet this felt somehow different. Soarin found himself casting spare glances at Sunburst as worked, despite the simplicity of the task.

“Huh.” Sunburst sniffed at the steam rising from the tea. “It, uh… it smells good.”

“Tsk, you’ll love it.”

Again, without asking, Soarin slipped into the booth across from Sunburst.

Sunburst visibly deflated. “You’re not seriously going to watch me eat, are you?”

“I gotta know if I did good!” Soarin explained, drumming his hooves excitedly on the table. “C’mon, one bite?”

“Don’t you have things to do?” Sunburst asked, gesturing broadly to the restaurant. “Aren’t you… aren’t you new?”

Soarin shrugged. “Slow day.”

Sunburst looked out at the restaurant. He couldn’t exactly argue with Soarin, there-- this was probably the quietest diner Sunburst had ever been in.

Could you call this a diner?

Sunburst sighed, so short and so harsh that it may have been a nicker. “Fine.”

Soarin leaned across the table, ever so slightly, and watched as Sunburst unwrapped the paper from his muffin. He used his magic to pull off a small chunk and pop it into his mouth.

He chewed, considering the flavor without a peep. His eyes traced over the ceiling, across the shimmering display case, and then back onto Soarin’s face as he swallowed.

Soarin could hardly keep still. “So?”

“Hm.” Sunburst looked over at the tea cup. He lifted the bag out of the liquid and dropped it into his saucer. “You know, you’re supposed to take the bag out before you serve it.”

Soarin scowled. “That doesn’t sound right.”

“It is right,” Sunburst said.

He lifted the cup to his mouth and took a sip.

Soarin bit down on his lip. He watched Sunburst’s face for any sign of emotion or reaction-- each twitch of the brow, each turn of his lips. He hadn’t the slightest idea what any of it meant, really, but at least he was paying attention.

Sunburst set the cup down. “It’s alright.”

“Alright!” Soarin pumped a hoof in the air. “I knew you’d--”

“But it’s not my usual,” Sunburst finished.

Soarin collapsed back into the seat. “Duh. I never said it was.”

“Well, it isn’t my new usual, either,” Sunburst corrected.

“Aw, man…” Soarin folded his forelegs over his chest. “Really thought I had you there.”

Sunburst looked at Soarin. He looked at the way his mane stuck to the vinyl booth. He looked at the way his eyes scanned hungrily over the food on the table. He looked at the way his wings were drooped at his sides, the beauty and elegance of his feathers on full display.

Sunburst looked at Soarin, and he thought I can’t let this end so soon.

“It’s okay,” Sunburst said matter-of-factly. “I’ll be back tomorrow. You can try again.”

Soarin sat up a little. “Really?”

Sunburst shrugged. “I come here all the time. Might as well.”

“That’s great!” Soarin sat forward, placing both hooves on the table before him. “Oh, my gosh-- I already have an idea for tomorrow!”

Sunburst couldn’t help but laugh.

His laugh sounded precisely like the bell above the door, Soarin thought.

Soarin began to laugh along.

And End

The bell above the door sounded precisely like his magic.

It had only been three months, sure-- but Soarin would know that sound anywhere. That sound was the deadline for Soarin’s latest culinary combination to make it to the table, served with a smile and usually a bit of witty banter.

The sound of the bell, that is.

The sound of Sunburst’s magic, on the other hoof, was ever-present. It meant nothing, and it meant everything. It was the way he adjusted his glasses, the way lifted a book only to peek over the top, the way he sipped his tea, the way he smiled and talked and laughed and…

Funnily enough, Soarin had gotten much better at the whole food thing after he got his cutie mark. The double cresting waves and the lightning bolt very clearly had nothing to do with cooking or even serving food, yet it was like a previously invisible mental block had been cleared. He was more adventurous. More free. Less concerned.

“Anywhere you like!” Soarin shouted. “Be right with you!”

“No rush at all.”

Soarin turned to face the source of the familiar voice.

“Evening, Sunshine,” he said.

Sunburst rolled his eyes. “You know I hate that.”

Soarin shrugged. “That’s exactly why I do it,” he said, adding in a phony wink. “The usual?”

“The usual,” Sunburst echoed.

It had only been three months, but three months could be a long time. Years, in fact. It could also go by in the blink of an eye. In some very rare cases, it could do both at once.

Sunburst moved to his booth without a second thought, sliding in easily and resting his latest read on the table. Rather than read, however, he looked out at the streets of Canterlot. He had become a bit of a pony-watcher lately.

Soarin whirled about behind the counter, dodging and weaving around his boss with practiced grace. He clearly seemed to have a dish in mind, as he didn’t so much as pause or hesitate as he worked. His wings moved with him, as if extensions of himself, guiding his every step and duck and twirl.

And yet, for as well as they felt they knew each other, they still stole glances. Sunburst out the corner of his eye, Soarin through the display case as he hunted for the perfect pastry.

In this way, nothing had changed.

The work was second nature, now. Nothing close to the struggle it had been at the beginning of the summer, when he still had to learn how to work the coffee makers and clean the grease traps and balance a tray. It was just a part of how he moved, now. Just like flying.

Soarin delivered the tray with little fuss, depositing a muffin and a cup of tea on the table before his friend.

Sunburst smiled. “Ah, the original.”

“Bet you thought I forgot, huh?” Soarin slid into the booth across from Sunburst and, for once, did not earn a pointed look. “This is like the super version of that one, though.”

“Oh?” Sunburst peered down at his food skeptically. “How so?”

“Well, first of all,” Soarin began, pointing to the tea, “you’ll notice I’ve removed your tea bag.”

“Impressive,” Sunburst commented.

“It’s also a latte!” Soarin quickly pointed out. “Which I didn’t know you could do to tea! Go figure.”

Sunburst chuckled a little. “You’ve made me lattes before, Soarin.”

“Yeah, but this is the original,” Soarin explained. “This is the latte. The one and only.”

“Of course, of course…” Sunburst murmured, taking a slow sip of the tea. He savored it, with eyes closed, considering its flavor carefully and completely. “It’s good.”

“It’s good!” Soarin pumped a hoof in the air. “Nice. Crushed it.”

“And the muffin?” Sunburst asked.

“Muffin’s the same,” Soarin said with a shrug.

Sunburst scowled.

Soarin held up his hooves defensively. “You’re the wizard, Sunshine! Not me!” He laughed lightly. “I dunno how to make muffins. C’mon.”

“Tsk, you’re telling me you didn’t actually get a cutie mark in baking?” Sunburst said, painting on an over-the-top look of surprise. “I must have forgotten! You’ll have to tell me the story again!”

Soarin stuck out his bottom lip. “I thought you liked that story…”

Sunburst snapped back to sincerity. “Oh! I-I do! I just-- what I meant was--”

“Gotcha!” Soarin laughed heartily. “But you know you’re gonna have to hear the story again, right? Since you teased?”

Sunburst sighed wearily. “I know it."

"Let's leave the storytelling for after your shift, huh?"

Soarin twisted at the waist, ears pinned to his head. "S-sorry, Mr. Joe!"

Donut Joe waved his cleaning rag at Soarin dismissively.

Soarin turned back to his friend. "I'll be back."

"It's your last shift," Sunburst said softly. "He's not gonna cut you a break?"

"It's cool," Soarin said, scooting out of the booth. "I'm still getting paid, aren't I?"

Sunburst chuckled lightly, but said nothing. He watched quietly as Soarin went back to work.

He was graceful, now. Noticeably so. Sunburst remembered, not long ago, when Soarin moved about the diner with all the poise of a newborn deer. Now he seemed to glide over the tile floors with ease, even as he balanced trays and dishes and coffees on his wings.

He did it all with a smile. Easy-going. Relaxed. At peace, almost.

Sunburst smiled. He returned to his book.

Donut Joe's closed at sundown on weekdays. It was practically the only time the stallion wasn't working.

The sun sank low on the horizon.

The customers thinned.

Sunburst remained.

At long last, the final customer of the night stood and gathered her things. She did so slowly, without thought. She dropped a few bits on the table.

"Have a nice night," Soarin said, flipping a chair up onto a nearby table. "Come back soon!"

She gave Soarin a polite nod as she left.

The bell tinkled once more, and Donut Joe was quick to flip the sign to 'closed'.

"Alright, kid," Joe said with a heavy sigh. "Good work today. You have a safe trip home, alright?"

"Will do, Mr. Joe." Soarin was a little breathless from moving chairs.

"Let's lock up, alright?"

Soarin paused.

He looked to Sunburst for a moment, as if in fear. We were only just getting started, he thought.

Sunburst stared back, the same worry mirrored in his wide, bespectacled eyes.

Joe, as pastry-focused and… youth-distanced as he may have been, recognized the look the young stallions shared. He would be lying if he said he hadn't shared that look with many a stallion himself over the years.

He sighed. "I'll lock up," he said. "You two hang out a while longer. Make sure you leave out the back-- kitchen door locks behind you."

Soarin's eyes lit up. Sunburst adjusted his glasses.

"Hm." Joe sniffed. "Don't eat anything, either."

"Y-yes, sir."

"Yes, Mr. Joe."

Joe stood there another moment. He nodded-- not to the colts before him, but to himself. "Alright. You boys take care."

Soarin swallowed. "You too, Mr. Joe."

They watched quietly as Joe left. The bell above the door hardly rang out at all before the door was pulled shut and locked tight.

Soarin flicked his tail.

The donut shop was quiet.

It was an interesting place. Not quite a bakery, not quite a restaurant, but rather something caught remarkably in-between. The best of both worlds, one might say.

Soarin had never thought about that until just now.

"That was nice of him," Sunburst said softly. Very softly, in fact-- as if he were afraid to raise his voice.

Soarin looked to his friend. "Huh?" He shook his head. "Oh-- yeah. Nice."

Sunburst put his hooves in his lap. "Um… do you wanna come sit?"

Soarin shuffled his wings against his sides. "S-sure!"

He trotted over to the booth, any sign of grace or poise having vanished in an instant. His wings seemed to be actively fighting against him as he clambered into the seat across from Sunburst.

Sunburst cleared his throat. "So…"

Soarin didn't know where to look. "So."

Silence fell over the table.

It was strange. On a normal day, they could hardly oil themselves away from one another, carrying on a conversation one sentence at a time while Soarin buzzed about the place.

Now, with all the time they wanted, it was… different.

At once, the young stallions looked up at one another.

"You were going to tell me--"

"Oh, you haven't told me about--"

They each paused. Sunburst put a hoof to his mouth.

"Uh…" Soarin drummed his hooves on the table. "You first."

"No, no! You first," Sunburst said. "I insist."

Soarin let a nervous smirk play on his lips. "Okay. Um… you haven't told me about your book yet today."

"Oh!" Sunburst cast his eyes down to the book on the seat next to him. "It's… it's not very interesting."

"Oh…" Soarin folded his hooves in his own lap.

Sunburst hesitated a minute, then said, "you were going to tell me about your cutie mark." He swished his tail against the vinyl seat. "Remember?"

"You've heard that story before, Sunshine," Soarin said. "I won't make you hear it again."

Sunburst's ears dropped. "Oh. Okay."

Another silence.

Quiet in a place like this was different than quiet anywhere else. This was supposed to be loud, busy, bustling-- a feast for the senses.

In the quiet, it felt different than I ever had before.

Being alone was different, too.

It was hard. Clumsy.

Before Soarin had gotten his cutie mark, flight was about effort. There were rules to follow, positions to hold, form to perfect. This was like being sent back to the time of forced perfection.

For Sunburst, very few things were effortless. Everything was an uphill battle, but especially magic.

This--their little talks in the diner, their friendship, their whatever-it-was--may have been the only effortless thing for either of them.

And, now that they were alone, that ease had vanished.

Sunburst took a deep breath. "I was sure you were going to get your cutie mark in food," he said, with an unusual haste.

Soarin blinked. "Uh… you did?"

Sunburst laughed, and the sound was strangled. "I dunno. I guess I just-- you've done really well here," he stuttered. "At least, I thought you did."

"Yeah?" Soarin sat up a little straighter.

"Of course," Sunburst said.

It was coming easier now.

"I mean-- thanks, Sunny." Soarin ruffled his feathers a little. "But it was always going to be flying, y'know?"

"Tell me about it," Sunburst requested. "Again. I don't mind."

Soarin snuck a little lop-sided grin. "Well…" He rubbed his chin, as if trying to think of where to begin. "Well. You know I do a few laps around the city at night."

Sunburst nodded. He reached for his tea.

"And I guess I'd been really focused on staying in shape, right?" Soarin said. "Like… I dunno, I needed a break from the academy, but I didn't wanna lose any progress, y'know? I just needed a… a change of pace, I guess."

"Mm-hm," Sunburst murmured into his tea cup.

"Even though I'd come all the way to Canterlot to get away from the academy, it was still all I could think about any time I flew," Soarin continued, gesturing harshly with his hooves and wings alike. "The way I held my wings, the way I angled my primaries, the way I fought against the wind. It was all stuff my instructors had told me to do."

"You'd never flown without that before, had you?" Sunburst asked.

Soarin's ears pricked. "Uh. No, I guess not," he said. "My parents are both unicorns, so… they sent me to a professional to learn to fly."

"Wow…" Sunburst frowned slightly. "That's… wow."

Soarin shrugged. "I dunno what it was," he said softly. His wings were falling away from his sides as he spoke, and his eyes were focused on a distant point in the night sky. "I think I just realized that, for the first time, I was flying for myself. Or at least I… I could be."

Sunburst watched his friend's face.

"Actually, that's not true-- I know what it was," Soarin said, looking back at Sunburst. "It was your book."

Sunburst paused, then chuckled. "I haven't heard this part of the story before."

"You read me that part about magic for pleasure," Soarin said. "Remember? About… magic for magic's sake, or something?"

Sunburst cocked his head. "Recreational magic?" he suggested.

"Yeah!" Soarin's face lit up. "About how-- how unicorns learn to use magic as a tool, but how babies haven't learned that yet… right?"

"Newborn foals use magic as an automatic process," Sunburst explained. "It's usually activated by emotion, but it can be utilitarian if--"

"Emotion! Yeah!" Soarin clapped his hooves together. "That's what it was! It was like… it was like I didn't even have to think about it anymore. It was just happening, because I… I felt it. Y'know?"

"You felt what?" Sunburst asked.

Soarin shook his head. "I dunno…" he whispered. "Like-- ugh. Like when you're on a roller coaster, and your stomach drops. I felt that, but not my stomach. My… my chest, I guess."

Sunburst, without thinking, lifted a hoof to his own chest. He imagined that tight feel of acceleration, and he swore he almost felt it.

"I never would have thought that if you hadn't read me your book," Soarin said.

He said it as if it were nothing. Easy.

"I mean, who knows? I might never have gotten my cutie mark without you, Sunshine." Soarin laughed lightly. Like a bell. "Pretty crazy, huh?"

But Sunburst wasn't laughing.

He held his hooves close to his chest, his mouth a tiny 'o'. He was staring at Soarin with glassy, sparkling eyes. His glasses slid slowly down his snout, but he made no effort to adjust them.

"Whoa." Soarin's face softened in an instant. "Sunny, are you-- what is it?"

"I don't think I…" he whispered, barely more than a breath. He sniffled. "I don't think I've ever felt that."

Soarin's face fell. "Oh. Oh, gosh, Sunny. I--"

"I already have my cutie mark," Sunburst continued, tears tightening his throat. "And-- and magic is still so hard. Do you think I'll ever feel that? Do you think I missed it?"

Soarin couldn't get a word out. Not even a syllable.

"I-- oh, gosh." Sunburst dug his hooves deeper into his chest, the fur swallowing them up. "I did miss it, didn't I? I did!"

"N-no!" Soarin said. "You didn't miss it!"

"But you--" Sunburst drew in a sharp breath. "You're done! You're finished! And you felt it, and I… what if I'm stuck?"

"What if you're-- what?"

"Stuck," Sunburst breathed. "What if I'm stuck at the beginning forever and ever? What if you've reached the end, and I'll just be here at the starting line forever? What if--"

"Sunburst."

He sucked in a breath and bit down on his bottom lip.

Soarin was breathing heavily. His own eyes sparkled with something distant and sad.

Slowly, hesitatingly, Soarin reached across the table. He laid his hooves over Sunburst's, then carefully pulled them away from his chest.

There it was. The acceleration.

"You're not stuck," Soarin said. He said it firmly, and he squeezed his friend's hooves as he did. "And I'm not done!"

Sunburst was struck silent.

Soarin hung his head. "I mean, c'mon Sunny-- I only just feel like I've caught up to you, for pony's sake," he said, notes of melancholy laughter weaving their way through his words. "I'm right at the beginning. You are, too."

The speed. The power. The weightlessness. Rushing at Sunburst, making him rise from his seat--

"We've talked about this so many times, Sunny!" Soarin continued. "Why… well, what's different now?"

Sunburst blinked.

Soarin did not remove his hooves.

"I…" Sunburst's hooves twitched. "You're leaving."

Soarin sat back a little. His hooves withdrew.

"The summer's ending," Sunburst continued. "And you had this… this thing happen to you, and I feel like I'm exactly the same."

Soarin pulled his hooves back a little more, until they separated. "But--"

"And I've been exactly the same for years, now!" Sunburst put his hooves over his eyes. "And if this didn't change me--when it changed you so much--what is it going to take?! How will I ever make it to the end?!"

“Sunny, stop!”

Sunburst bristled, even cringed a bit. His hooves withdrew even further.

“You’re--” Soarin tried, but he couldn’t find the words.

He didn’t know how to say I know exactly how you feel. I still feel it.

He didn’t know how to express that feeling that the two of them were from the same stock-- that their talents didn’t come naturally, that they had to work and sweat and toil and study and force it to happen. That, even now, Soarin partly dreaded the thought of going home.

At least, he didn’t know how to say it without it sounding like a lie.

It was hard.

It was hard to sit here, face to face, feeling like the beginnings and the endings were all out of order, were frayed and interwoven and impossible to untangle.

It was hard to explain how Soarin felt like he was at the beginning of his journey, when Sunburst saw the confidence of somepony at the end.

And it was just as hard for Sunburst to see what Soarin saw-- a stallion who had put years of work and study into mastery, yet still felt like an inadequate beginner.

It was hard to see that they had more in common than they did dividing them.

Sunburst slumped back into his seat. The vinyl hissed under his weight.

Soarin cleared his throat. “Tell me about your book.”

Sunburst closed his eyes. He looked as if he were holding back something truly awful. “You don’t want to hear about my book.”

“I do, though,” Soarin said. “I always do. Every day.”

“You don’t want to hear about it today,” Sunburst grumbled, eyes still closed. “You really don’t.”

“I do.” Soarin nodded to the book on the seat. “C’mon, Sunny. One more time.”

Sunburst sighed heavily. He didn’t lift the book, just sat there with his eyes shut and began to soliloquize: “It’s about the nature of mastery and competence. In any learned skill, there are four stages to becoming competent in that skill: unconscious incompetence, conscious incompetence, conscious comp--”

“You’re just reciting from the book,” Soarin said. “Tell it your way. Like you always do.”

Sunburst peeked out as his friend through one eye.

Soarin sat there, attentive, his hooves folded politely on the table like a perfect little student.

“When you study something,” Sunburst began, thinking over each word very carefully, “you learn a lot about it before you ever master the things you’ve learned. You’ll know what good spellwork should look like before you can ever accomplish it. You’ll see and understand what good form should be before you can ever maintain it. It’s part of the learning process.”

Soarin nodded silently.

“The problem with that is… well, whenever you learn something new, you’ll hit this snag of knowing exactly what you’re doing wrong, seeing how wrong and bad it is, and yet not having the skill to adjust,” Sunburst continued. He was staring down at his own hooves as if they were entirely foreign to him. “The really sad thing is that, no matter how hard you study beforehoof, you’ll never be able to jump right in and do things well. Students are doomed to experience the defeat of knowing their flaws, yet being incapable of fixing them.”

Soarin’s brows furrowed. He waited patiently for Sunburst to continue, but nothing else came.

“That’s not sad,” Soarin said.

Sunburst looked up, equal parts exhausted and annoyed.

“I mean-- sure, it’s frustrating, but I don’t think that’s sad at all,” Soarin said. “I think it’s kinda nice.”

Sunburst scoffed. “Please enlighten me as to how this is a ‘nice’ thing.”

Soarin shrugged. “I feel like it’s always a good thing to know that somepony else is going through what you’re going through,” he explained. He said it so simply and nonchalantly, as if he himself thought it held almost no value. “It’s kinda cool to know that the ponies at the academy had a hard time learning to fly, too.”

“What’s sad is being stuck before the defeat,” Sunburst said softly. “What’s sad is studying every day, hours and hours, and just being so terrified to even try that you… that you just don’t.”

It had never occurred to Soarin that Sunburst might not have been a great wizard.

How would he have known? They had only ever talked here, at the donut shop. They had only ever shared their studies. They had never shown off. They had never given a demonstration. When could they have?

Sunburst put his head down on the table. He took his glasses off and laid them out beside his snout. “If anyone-- if anything could have helped me get up the courage to try, it would have been this,” he whispered. He put his hooves over his eyes. “And it didn’t. I’m still stuck. I still don’t know my own incompetence.”

There was quiet.

Sunburst’s mind was strangely still. That sort of meditative stillness that comes of vomiting up your every thought and feeling in one go, leaving nothing behind to yell and wail and carry on. Only a blank void remained, waiting patiently to be populated by more worries.

The first to pop up was the worry that Soarin would feel guilty for leaving.

Then, after that, the Soarin wouldn’t like him anymore at all.

Then, that this conversation would only thrust him deeper into that state of terror over being inferior. Pushing his happy ending even further away.

Just as these began to happily multiply, Sunburst felt something press into his side.

He lifted his head, suddenly sitting up ramrod-straight.

Soarin was beside him. He wasn’t even looking at him-- he was looking out the window, into the darkness of the summer’s night sky.

Sunburst drew in a shallow breath. He couldn’t think of what to say.

“You could try something now,” Soarin said.

His feathers were soft--softer even than they appeared--as they brushed gently against Sunburst’s side. His face was gentle and stoic in a way that Sunburst had never seen; Soarin most typically wore a goofy grin and glittering, mischievous eyes. This was so… understated.

Sunburst gave a small, wry laugh. “Yeah. Right.”

“I’m serious,” Soarin said. He stretched his opposite wing over, brushing his primaries over Sunburst’s heart. “I know what it feels like, now. I can help you feel it, too.”

“It’s not about feelings!” Sunburst argued. “It’s-- it’s--”

“It is when you do it for yourself,” Soarin said.

Sunburst closed his eyes. He seemed, once again, to be holding back whatever it was he truly wanted to say. As if it were fighting its way out from behind his teeth.

“Think of the best spell you ever cast,” Soarin murmured. “The one that felt the best, y’know? Even if it wasn’t perfect or good or right. The one that felt the most right.”

It was funny-- he didn’t even remember what he had tried to cast.

Whatever it was, it had come out wrong. Of that he could be almost entirely certain. But it was probably the first and only time that he felt like a conduit for something greater than himself. Like a being of true magic. Like a wizard. Like a unicorn.

It had felt like bubbles popping against his skin. That was the best way he could think to describe it, or even remember it. Like being submerged in a chilly bath of champagne.

And it had smelled like fire.

“Feel it here,” Soarin directed, swirling his primaries through the soft fur on Sunburst’s chest. “And make it as big as you can.”

The gentle carbonation grew to a jet stream. Then to a rolling boil. Then to something else entirely-- like the fuzziness in the air right before a lightning strike, the kind that makes your hair stand on end.

“When you’re ready, let it out.” Soarin removed his wing and gestured to the room before him, though Sunburst certainly couldn’t see. “The best part is, since you’re doing it for yourself, it can’t be wrong. Right?”

Had Sunburst been able to answer, he may have had something to say about that.

But the feeling was fizzing over.

Soarin watched as golden magic began to ooze from Sunburst’s horn. It was a deeper, richer, shade than he’d ever seen it, and it dripped like honey down his forehead and his cheeks and into a puddle on the table.

It smelled like orange blossoms and cinnamon.

Soarin reached out a tentative hoof, and let the magic flow over him.

It wasn’t like any magic he had ever seen or heard of. It felt like his own giddy and breathless laughter after a successful aerial maneuver. As it bubbled and steamed off of his skin, it smelled like the anticipation of a first drop on a rollercoaster. He swore he could even hear, in its far-off and magical hum, that sense of divine weightlessness at the top of a skyward arc.

Sunburst let out a long, slow breath. The magic stopped dripping from his horn, though it remained there on the table, threatening to slide off onto the floor.

Soarin wondered what Mr. Joe would think if he found a puddle of sunshine on the tile floor in the morning.

Sunburst opened his eyes, and his breath hitched. “I-I did it!” He looked to Soarin, his eyes wide. “What did I do?”

Soarin laughed. “I dunno, dude!” He dipped his hoof in once more, and the compacted memories of a hundred summer evenings rushed into his chest once more. He could do nothing but eke out more breathless laughter, in awe of the sight before him.

His laugh sounded precisely like the bell above the door, Sunburst thought.

Sunburst began to laugh along.

Begin Again

The bell above the door sounded precisely like his magic.

It halted Soarin’s thoughts completely, and he barely managed to mumble his way through the rest of his sentence.

The smell of the place hit him square in the chest, and for a second he was worried he might tumble over. It somehow hadn't changed, even after all these years-- the same scent of sugary frosting hung in the air, the same chemical sharpness of the all-purpose cleaner Joe used on the floors, the same distant notes of coffee and cream twisting through it all.

"Huh?" Spitfire nudged him. "What's that, Soarin?"

Soarin blinked. "Uh…" He chuckled. "What was I saying?"

"The pie?"

"Oh, yeah!" At the mention of pie, Soarin's brain kick-started once more. "This is the place I had my first slice of homemade apple pie! Totally changed my life."

Spitfire rolled her eyes. "Yeah. No kidding."

"I like what I like, Spits," Soarin said, heaving a sigh not unlike that of a father while teasing his kids. "And I like me an apple pie."

"I'm not one to turn down an apple pie myself," Spitfire agreed.

The two ponies fell into line, expertly ignoring the stolen glances of the other customers. There was a time when such looks and whispers may have made Soarin's heart skip a beat, but it was all part of being a Wonderbolt nowadays.

"Y'know I used to work here?" Soarin said.

"No kidding."

"Yeah! One summer, like… I dunno, years and years ago." The more he talked about it, the more his voice seemed to soften. "Same summer I got my cutie mark, actually," he murmured.

Spitfire gave him an odd look. "Wow. Must've been a pretty crazy summer for you, huh?"

"I guess…" Soarin rubbed his snout absent-mindedly. "I don't remember much of it, to be honest. Just… well, just the beginning and the end."

The morning sunlight was warm and bright, and it glinted off the display case with impressive power. Soarin strained to see past it, even as it stamped dark patches of color over his vision.

"Uh…" Spitfire cleared her throat. "You okay, Soarin?"

Soarin closed his eyes, and the colors danced there, too. "Yeah. Sorry, sorry," he said, shaking his head. "Just… well, y'know."

Spitfire frowned. "Yeah. Sure I do. I know I definitely get all weird and distant thinking about the summer jobs I had as a teenager." She snickered lightly. "Seriously, you good?"

The booths. They were exactly the same as they had been all those years ago, despite the new cracks in the vinyl. Soarin found himself scanning each seat for the familiar head of scraggly orange hair. It was nearly automatic, even now, and he found himself considering creative breakfast combinations to serve up.

Glazed donut and an iced latte.

Blueberry scones and peach tea.

Apple pie and cinnamon coffee.

"Alright, yikes!" Spitfire laughed and clapped her friend on the shoulder. "I get it! Apple pie, comin' up!"

Soarin forced a small laugh, but his mind kept roaming through the menu.

Strawberry pastry and a smoothie.

Peanut butter bagel and a hot cocoa.

Cranberry-orange muffin and chai tea.

To say that this was the first Soarin had thought of Sunburst since that summer would have been a lie. This was, however, the first time he had really felt it.

The acceleration in his chest.

The weightlessness of his hooves.

The--

The bell above the door rang again, and Soarin instinctively looked over his shoulder to see who had arrived. He had to crane his neck to see over the crowds, and then only caught glimpses of the pony in the door.

She was short, purple head-to-hoof, and carefully counting through a hoofful of bits with her blue magic.

"I dunno," she mused. "We're kinda low on funds. Why don't we hit a food cart instead?"

"Let me see."

Only three words, and then the sound of magic.

Soarin ducked his head down, trying desperately to see around those waiting in line behind him.

"Dude, do you mind?"

But Soarin hardly heard it. "Uh-- 'scuse me, folks," he muttered, weaving between them and towards the ponies at the back of the line.

"We've got plenty," the voice continued, dropping the stack of bits musically back into his friend's hoof. "A breakfast combo is only four bits here."

His friend snorted incredulously. "How do you know what breakfast costs?"

Soarin pushed further through the crowds, which parted at the sight of the celebrity.

Each step felt like falling-- or perhaps like floating.

The moment of weightlessness at the top of a skyward arc.

"I used to go here a lot," he continued. "When I was Celestia's student."

"Oh, that's right!" His friend laughed. "I always forget that--"

Soarin skidded to a halt.

There was a moment then, however brief, that felt different than the others.

A poet may have called it love at first sight, though the poet would have been wrong. A cynic would have called it infatuation, though that would have been wrong, as well.

Soarin would have called it a sunrise.

Sunburst may have compared it to the moment of silence as a wave crests, seconds before crashing onto the shore.

In other words, the beginning.

But not the beginning at all, of course-- because they had been here before.

In this place.

With this feeling.

"Uh… hi?" Starlight furrowed her brows. "Hey, you're a Wonderbolt, right?"

"Starlight, shut up," Sunburst muttered. He didn't take his eyes off Soarin.

Starlight looked taken aback, but dutifully closed her mouth.

"Hi," Soarin breathed.

"Uh…" Sunburst blinked. "H-hi."

They stared at one another.

Spitfire snuck up behind Soarin, curious and aloof as always. She and Starlight shared their own look of confusion and mild amusement.

"I like your, uh…" Soarin pointed to Sunburst's face, then reached for his own chin. "Your beard."

Sunburst's own hoof flew to his beard. "Th-thank you," he said. "I like your… uniform."

Soarin chuckled, and pedalled his wings a bit. "Thanks."

The rush.

The light.

"Do you wanna eat?" Soarin asked. "Like… together? H-here?"

Sunburst smiled and adjusted his spectacles. "Yeah. Uh-- yes." He chuckled, a little squeaking sound. "Yes. I would."

His laugh sounded precisely like the bell above the door, Soarin thought.

Soarin began to laugh along.

Author's Note

Thanks for reading! If you find something coherent in here, lmk gang