Downfall

by Gay For Gadot

Rating: teen
Tags: Sad, Romance, Equestria Girls, Suicide / Self Harm, Slice of Life, Wallflower Blush, Sunset Shimmer
Length: 8466

Sunset Shimmer is used to solving problems. So, when she can't do that for the person she loves the most, it's... difficult.

Sunset Shimmer's faced a lot on the other side of the mirror. Redeeming herself, uniting her friends, taking down monsters. For better or worse, it's in her nature to solve problems. To make things better.

So, when she can't do that for the person she loves the most, it's... difficult.

Written for, and inspired by, my girlfriend Scampy, whose Wallflower stories are far better than this.

Written to this song.

Published 2021-03-04 18:40:02 UTC
Last updated 2021-03-04 18:40:02 UTC

Downfall

Downfall

“this life
has been
a landscape
of pain

and still,
flowers
bloom in it.”
―Sanober Khan

~

Of all the things this strange world had to offer, Sunset Shimmer had to admit she loved her cell phone. Far more than was warranted, if she were being honest. Especially when a certain custom ringtone jangled along with it in her pocket.

Humming along to the song, Sunset set down the dish she’d been washing, then wiped her hand dry on her jeans. Just before the song ended, she answered the call with an eager smile. “Hey, babe! I was just cleaning up after dinner. What are you up to?”

“... H-h-hey…”

As soon as Sunset heard Wallflower’s strained voice on the other end of the line, her blood ran cold.

One hand on her phone, she braced herself with the other, leaning against the edge of the sink. The dropped dish sank further in the warm, soapy water, sending bubbles to the surface as it came to rest.

In the buzzing silence, all ten of her fingers tensed at what she knew was to come.

More time, seconds innumerable, passed, until Wallflower spoke again.

“Urges,” was all she could manage.

The single word was a ghost of a whisper above the thrum of her own heartbeat. Little more than the wayward breeze of the night wind against her kitchen window. If Sunset hadn’t had her ear pressed right against the speaker, she might not have heard anything at all.

If that were the case, she would have known anyway.

And that knowledge made nothing easier.

“Okay.” One slow, steady breath. In, out. Focus.

Once the rush in her ears subsided, Sunset spoke. Despite what stirred in her veins, her voice was even in its timbre. “I’m right here, babe, okay?” Another breath. “What are you feeling right now?”

Before Wallflower could answer, Sunset’s thoughts already raced ahead with possible sources and solutions. Was it stress at work? She would march down to the flower shop first thing in the morning and have a talk with her boss. Did that creepy neighbor make a comment? Her free hand balled into a fist. Maybe someone needed to know what it felt like to have his face rearranged. Or maybe—

Just as quickly as her instinctive, fight-or-flight mind tried to solve the problem, the more rational, wiser part of it grabbed the reins and yanked. Gritting her teeth, Sunset shook her head and cursed herself.

This wasn’t what Wallflower needed right now.

Sometimes there wasn’t even a cause. Sometimes it just happened. The root was irrelevant in times like this.

Focus.

“... I… I can’t...”

Sunset could hear Wallflower’s grip slipping. “It’s okay,” she said quietly, willing her own grasp steady. “I know this is really hard, Wally. Take your time. I’ll still be here.”

Within the resulting silence, Sunset steeled herself further. She pressed her back against the kitchen sink and stole a breath from the ceiling above.

“Can…” Wallflower’s voice came through in pained, hushed whispers. “Can you…”

On her ellipse, Sunset’s stomach dropped and twisted. The wave of nausea spurred her to action.

Dishes forgotten, she walked over to the couch. As she sat down, she reached for her riding boots, which had been kicked off beside the coffee table. Thank Celestia she hadn’t put them away yet.

Barely audible, Wallflower finished on the third try. “C-can you come over?”

“I’ll be there in twenty, okay?”

Quickly lacing her boots, Sunset grabbed her leather jacket. After checking to make sure she had her wallet and keys, she picked up her motorcycle helmet off the end of the couch. While she slipped it on and tightened the chin strap, she stayed on the phone, listening for anything else Wallflower had the strength left to muster.

When the silence continued, Sunset broke it with a gentle assurance. “If you need to talk when I’m on my way, just call again and I’ll pull over, okay?”

“... Okay.”

Sunset held back a sigh of relief.

There was a finality in that word. A trust. It moved with Sunset as she left her apartment, locked the door, and headed downstairs. It extinguished enough of her adrenaline to make her motions careful and practiced, rather than fitful and reckless.

Her phone was still against her ear as she made her way through the parking lot.

Their last exchange hanging between them, both knew that Wallflower wouldn’t call again once they had hung up. Both because Sunset would be well on her way—and because there wasn’t much more Wallflower was capable of saying at the moment.

Whereas Wallflower was sometimes sparse in words, Sunset was often abundant in them. Many times, she said things that an outsider would view as redundant. Things that were a given. Cliche, or predictable, or maybe even empty in the wrong ears.

Nothing she said was ever empty. Not on purpose. But words could only do so much. As much as Sunset loved her cell phone, she loathed its limitations in times like this.

If only technology was enough to bridge the gap. If only she could inject the power and fierceness and conviction she longed to convey into her words. Maybe, then, they wouldn’t ring so hollow.

Despite falling short, Sunset hoped that even the tiniest fraction of what she meant came across. For now, she had boots and wheels to fill the things in between.

With Wallflower still on the line, Sunset climbed on her bike, flipped the kickstand up, and jammed her key in the ignition. “Alright, I’m on my way now. Be there soon.”

“Okay.”

At that moment, no other word sounded so beautiful.

Taking a slow breath, Sunset pulled the clutch and brake. Before she could be drowned out by a roar and a spark, she added, “I love you.”

With less hesitation than anything prior, Wallflower replied, “I love you, too.”

The engine was the last sound Wallflower must have heard before Sunset hung up.

While Sunset had no reason to think Wallflower didn’t believe her, she wanted her to know, beyond all doubt, that she was coming. That the only thing between them was the distance—and that she was fighting that now.

In tandem with the clutch, Sunset finally let loose the breath she’d been holding. Smooth, fluid tugs on the throttle pulled the bike out of the complex’s parking lot, then into the road.

Beneath her jacket and her resolve, Sunset didn’t feel the icy grasp of the wind. The stars guided her through grandfather night, calling her forth through the empty streets to the other side of town.

The route had long been memorized. The road was hers now.

Sunset’s hands trembled on the keyboard. A flickering icon in the entry box of the search engine she’d been staring at for the past fifteen minutes glared back at her. The computer screen glowed in the darkness of her bedroom. Both webpage and monitor waited. Patient. Silent. Mocking.

While she knew what she needed to type, she wouldn’t dare string the words together.

There was power in words, she knew. The mythos of both her homeland and this world sanctified the ability to name something. Curses, jinxes, hexes. Logos. Putting something to paper and ink—or zeroes and ones—was akin to calling it into being.

Then again, what she so hesitated on naming was something that had long preceded her. It would be present without her acknowledgment of it. Without her presence at all. Perhaps there was no danger in spelling it out.

… Or maybe there was. Sunset wasn’t sure. After all, she didn’t know much about it. But she knew enough. Just enough.

Just enough to avoid making things worse.

… She hoped.

How to help…

Sunset closed her eyes.

What to do if…

She could still see them.

She hadn’t wanted Sunset to see them. Wanted anyone to see them. That was why…

What to do when…

Sunset hadn’t asked. Hadn’t forced her. She had done so on her own. Told her.

It was inevitable, wasn’t it? They had been together for a while. They were adults. They cared for each other.

They loved each other.

They were going to be…

… Which meant...

How to help someone who…

… That look in her eyes.

When Sunset saw, so did she, tracing where Sunset’s eyes wandered. Where they shouldn’t have lingered. Where it had taken every behest of the better angels of Sunset’s nature not to...

Not that she meant to. Sunset knew better. She might not have experienced it herself, might not have understood, but…

What she had seen… They were just—this was—

—There wasn’t much to see, right? Doing this now just got it out of the way. Better there, in Sunset’s living room, on the couch, than anywhere else. Than another room. Than another time. Another intimacy. Rather than spoil the mood, just spoil…

What to do when someone you—

Sunset grit her teeth. No. Nothing was spoiled. Nothing was ruined. She knew that. Deep down, in her heart of hearts, she truly believed that.

She hoped that whatever instinctual reaction she’d unwittingly displayed hadn’t contradicted that too much.

Maybe the way her eyes had widened, or the way she hesitated before saying anything—even if it was merely to guarantee that she was choosing the correct words—had spoiled or ruined that moment, but not anything Wallflower had done.

What to do when someone you…

To be vulnerable was the most difficult thing Sunset had ever learned. Magic, both of the transportational and transformational kind, had to be transgressed before she understood this. Even then, there had been times when this lesson faltered. Opening her heart wasn’t as easy as the inspirational quotes and love songs had made it seem. There was bravery in it. A courage unlike any she had ever known.

What to do when someone you love…

The truest display of courage Sunset had ever seen took place the night before this one. It hadn’t involved magical gemstones, monstrous transformations, or shouting matches in a school parking lot.

It had involved sleeves, and a sweater.

What to do when someone you love—

Sunset finished typing—

The spare key in her pocket jingled.

Wallflower had given it to her in confidence. In both senses of the word. That only Sunset had it, and that Sunset would only use it when she had no other choice.

Three knocks on the door.

Sunset checked her phone. No missed calls. No texts.

Three deep breaths.

Another minute passed. Sunset fidgeted with her helmet in one hand, the other on the door. She was about to knock again when she heard footsteps drawing near.

Stepping away from the door, Sunset rested her helmet against her hip. She debated on whether to smile or not, settling on a calm half-smile. There was no deception in it—other than suppressing her own nerves.

Focus.

When the door opened, Sunset was greeted with soft, green hair flooding her vision. The warmth of a familiar figure pressed against hers. A freckled face found home in the crook of her neck.

With a relieved sigh, Sunset held her tight.

As they embraced in the threshold, Sunset laid her head on top of Wallflower’s. Out of habit, she wrapped her free arm around her girlfriend’s waist, drawing her closer.

The way Wallflower flinched told her that was a mistake.

When Sunset withdrew, letting her arm fall to her side, she pieced together her error.

The glow of the porchlight betrayed them. So did the soft hues of the growing moonlight and starlight in the vaultless sky above.

Rolls of bandages and gauze on Wallflower’s arms were illuminated in the faithless dim. When Sunset had caressed her, she’d brushed over these wounds.

“Sorry,” Sunset whispered, instead clasping one of Wallflower’s hands in her own. Though she held her tongue further, what swirled through her mind must have been written on her face.

Rather than shy away, Wallflower seemed to relax at her touch. She laced her fingers with Sunset’s and tugged on her hand.

Sunset took the cue and followed her inside.

The pen trembled.

Dear Princess…

Sunset flicked the pen between her index and middle fingers. Over and over, it circled, twisted, turned.

Dear Princess Twilight...

Sunset played with the pen, clicking it countless times, sweat dripping down her furrowed brow.

There’s been something on my mind for a while. I’m not sure if you’re the best person—

Sunset suppressed a frustrated groan.

—person—pony to ask about this, but…

How do you help somepo—someone who has a problem you can’t—

Sighing, Sunset crossed out what she wrote, then closed the journal.

Not yet.

The ticking of the clock on the waiting room wall became a sick mantra as seconds, and then minutes, passed afterwards.

Though she continued fidgeting with the pen, Sunset did not open the journal again.

Just the same, the door leading to the therapist’s office remained closed.

Wallflower said these appointments were allotted for an hour, but hers sometimes ended at forty minutes if they were intense enough. The last few had stopped at forty. It had been forty-five minutes now. Was that a good sign? Or a bad one?

If Sunset wasn’t privy to the details… Did it matter?

Back in Equestria—just as was the case here—counselors were bound to confidentiality. Sunset had seen one a few times at Celestia’s urging. To no avail. If anything, those sessions had only made her feel more frustrated and alone.

It wasn’t as if Sunset didn’t believe in the power of talking things out; she’d be a hypocrite in so many senses if that were true. Just because it hadn’t worked for her, that didn’t mean it wouldn’t work for Wallflower. And even if it didn’t, there were other options. Not a ton, but enough that—

The creak of a door almost sent the journal and pen tumbling to the floor. After scrambling to put it and the pen away in her backpack, Sunset looked up to meet Wallflower’s eyes. Copper as always, they were tinged with red now, brimming with tears.

Despite that, she was smiling.

“Hey.” Sunset stood up, threw her backpack over her shoulder, and took Wallflower’s hand in her own. “Session go okay?”

Though they were in public—well, more public than her girlfriend was usually comfortable with—Wallflower didn’t hesitate to take Sunset’s hand. She gave a shaky nod, then let Sunset lead the way out of the office.

Like Sunset, Wallflower lived in a studio apartment. Instead of a loft, Wallflower’s was just one large room with a tiny kitchen and bathroom. A small couch and coffee table in front of a tiny flatscreen TV, a dresser beside the closet, and a bed pushed against the rear wall were the extent of Wallflower’s furnishings.

Whatever free floor, kitchen, or windowsill space remained was occupied by her many plants. Pots of flowering chamomile, sweet alyssum, and gypsophila plants provided a lovely fragrance throughout the apartment. Different varieties of magnolias added shades of color throughout.

The flowers Wallflower was most proud of, however, were her orchids. A small section of the kitchen countertop had been devoted to a special setup for these flowers alone. The orchids, still in their pots, were arranged in a raised tray filled with pebbles covered in water. Lamps with UV and incandescent bulbs cycled between twelve hours of light for these flowers alone. On top of all this, Wallflower misted them twice a day with a combination of water and formulated orchid food.

Towards the beginning of their relationship, Wallflower had given Sunset one of her prized pink orchids. It had lasted a week under Sunset’s care before it started drooping. Even with Wallflower’s masterful green thumb nursing it back to health, the orchid didn’t fare well for long.

“It’s okay, Sunset,” Wallflower had told her, offering her sheepish girlfriend a reassuring smile. “They’re difficult plants to take care of. Sometimes they just get planted in the wrong soil, or go without water for too long. It’s not your fault.”

By the light of the moon, Sunset did her work.

She sat on her bed, textbooks and workbooks scattered amongst the sheets and blankets. Their titles ranged from watered-down layman’s terms, to esoteric acronyms that would have proved indecipherable without having read the former first.

Over the years, Sunset had learned the hard way that, sometimes, she needed to do things by the book. Follow the steps in order. Listen to the experts.

Both Twilights had taught her that.

Looking up from the next book on the list, she cast a sideways glance towards the journal on the far corner of the bed. Over a week had passed since her last attempt at reaching out to the Twilight Sparkle on the more familiar side of the mirror. Not that they hadn’t spoken since; there’d been the usual small talk, catching each other up on their respective lives and worlds between pleasantries and well wishes.

An hour ago, Sunset had finally summoned the courage to ask what had been gnawing at her for almost a month. The whoosh of magic that followed her hastily scrawled, almost illegible missive confirmed that the message had been sent to its intended recipient.

Unlike most of their conversations prior, Twilight had yet to respond in her usual fifteen-minute window. Each moment that passed without a reply was an agony.

With another glance towards the moon, Sunset sighed and shook her head. Focus. While the pony princess might have left her on read, the less regal Twilight had given her own version of advice. An extensive reading list might not have been as personable, but it was proving helpful so far.

… Even if Sunset hadn’t been entirely honest as to why she needed it.

Sunset tried not to think about that too much.

Once she’d grown tired of peering at the mareless moon, Sunset turned back to the textbook. More clinical jargon danced before her eyes, requiring at least two or three context-mindful readings before she could parse their meaning.

Whatever it took.

Just as she started to turn the page, a pulse of magical energy provoked a startled gasp from Sunset’s lips. At the corner of her bed, the journal glowed and vibrated, magenta magic piercing the darkness of the loft.

Throwing the textbook aside, Sunset lurched towards the journal, then threw its pages open. Her eyes darted over the response once, twice, a third time.

Dear Sunset,

Sorry for the delay on this reply. Thank you for reaching out. Don’t worry about the lack of details. I understand.

It’s difficult to see somep someone you care about struggling, and being unable to help them. It’s such a helpless feeling.

Unfortunately, sometimes, there’s only so much a friend can do. Some problems are, by their nature, solitary battles. Often, these are both the most difficult kind of problems—and the ones that take the most time and care to solve.

I would say that the best thing you can do is just be present. As much as you can, in any way you can. Be there for them. Offer a shoulder, or an ear, or both. Some things can’t be solved quickly or easily, so being understanding and patient in that regard is paramount as well.

All of this applies to yourself, too. You can only do so much.

P.S. If there’s anything you ever want to talk to me about in person—err, you know what I mean—let me know. Might have to wait a moon, but the portal’s always open.

With her pen flipping between her fingers, Sunset contemplated a reply.

Lest she reveal something she shouldn’t, she decided to close the journal for now.

And open up the textbook again.

Sunset looked from the kitchen to the couch. Wallflower sat on one end, her knees drawn up to her chest, face buried in her crossed arms. She hadn’t said a word since Sunset had arrived. Once the door was safely closed and locked, she’d taken her usual spot on the couch. And hadn’t moved.

After putting her helmet, wallet, keys, and phone on the counter, Sunset had gone into the kitchen. The location of everything within the various cupboards and cabinets was no mystery. If pressed, she could probably draw a diagram of their contents.

After all, it was she and her friends who had moved Wallflower into this little place. Brought or bought most of the household necessities. Even helped Wallflower set up the utility accounts in her name.

Unlike Sunset, not all demons could be exorcised. Not even with magic. Some followed all the way home, no matter how many borders they crossed in the process. They could contort into the tiniest spaces. Like the bottom of a wastepaper basket. Or a hidden compartment inside a drawer.

That’s what made them so insidious.

As Sunset gathered a saucepan and various ingredients from the cupboards, she tried to push those thoughts away. None of that was what Wallflower needed right now. What she needed was something warm and sweet and comforting.

The cocoa recipe was one of many Pinkie had given her. Sunset had thanked her for it then, but owed her many more thank-yous in the time hence. Regardless of the season, Wallflower always welcomed a fresh mug of hot chocolate.

After getting everything together, Sunset went back to her phone. When she picked it up, she glanced over at the couch. Wallflower was still there, curled up in the same position.

Sunset opened the music app on her phone, then tapped on a playlist. Soothing, mellow tunes emanated from the phone’s tiny speakers. Sunset turned up the music, then turned her phone upside-down so it resonated better.

Though Wallflower didn't move from her spot on the couch, she shifted at the noise.

“Hot chocolate’s gonna be ready in ten minutes, babe.”

A small nod. But a nod nonetheless.

Turning back around, Sunset returned to the task at hand. Songs both of them had heard a hundred times over accompanied the bubbling of milk, the melting of a thick bar of chocolate, and the whisking of cocoa and sugar and a hint of salt together into a concoction greater than the sum of its parts.

Two mugs, one can of whipped cream, and a smattering of chocolate shavings later, the cocoa was ready. After turning off the burners and leaving the dishes to soak in the sink, Sunset set both mugs down on the coffee table.

Next, Sunset walked over to Wallflower’s bed. With practiced ease, she gathered up the throw blanket that served as a comforter and brought it over. It was red and black on top, fluffy and white underneath. The pair had spent more than one winter’s night huddled beneath this blanket. The expensive ceiling heat did little to brush away the cold. Blankets were better.

Last, but not least in any measure, Sunset joined Wallflower on the opposite end of the couch. Rather than face forward, she sat with her back against the arm, stretching her legs across the cushions. She draped the blanket over herself, though she didn’t tuck in the edges.

Without a word, Wallflower untangled her limbs and peeked her head up. As Sunset lifted the blanket, Wallflower scampered under it. She laid on top of Sunset, her back against her chest, her head resting in that same crook of her neck.

Once they were settled and cozy, then—and only then—did Sunset reach for her cocoa. Mindful of how she moved, she brought the steaming mug to her lips.

The whipped cream had already begun to dissolve and mix with the rich chocolate, the shavings settling towards the bottom. Sunset didn’t care. It was delicious nevertheless.

It tasted even better when Wallflower did the same.

How much time passed, Sunset wasn’t quite sure. The sole clock—an old one Applejack had contributed when they moved Wallflower in—was on the wall of the kitchen behind them. Its irrelevant ticking was drowned out by the music.

The scene was similar to one that had played out many times before, in both of their apartments. If it weren’t for what had brought Sunset here, it would’ve felt no different than any other night between them.

Between draughts of cocoa, Sunset willed herself to relax… and focus.

A tall order, indeed. Good thing she still had her boots on.

The stars were different here.

Draco, Ursa Minor, Leo… Some of them shared similar names, if not similar stories. Others—Cassopeia, Orion, Gemini—sprang forth from a brand new lexicon. A shared, unique history Sunset could never fully belong to, despite all her efforts to the contrary.

No matter. Even if this world wasn’t home, she was determined to make it feel like home. If not for her, then for those who deserved it.

Behind her, the walls of Sugarcube Corner shook and vibrated with raucous laughter. She tore her eyes from the stars to steal a glance through the frosty window.

There, laughing as Pinkie Pie spun her around, was Wallflower. Blindfolded, she stumbled towards the unicorn pinata, a baseball bat held awkwardly between her hands. Applejack and Rainbow Dash circled around her, chanting, while Rarity and Twilight shared a knowing glance and giggle.

Sunset let loose a deep breath, which faded into vapor in the cold night. Eyes tracing the constellations, memory searching for the stories behind them, she barely noticed when a quiet cough broke the silence.

“Oh, hi, Sunset.” Fluttershy leaned against the wall beside her, a cup of apple cider cradled between her hands. “S-sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“No, it’s okay.” Sunset smiled at her. “What’s up? Need a break from the party?”

Sipping at her cider, Fluttershy nodded.

“Yeah, same.” Sunset chuckled. “Pinkie sure knows how to throw ‘em, doesn’t she?”

Another nod.

For some time, both girls looked towards the stars. The serenity was broken only by the occasional, delicate sip of Applejack’s family recipe cider, or the howl of laughter from the party behind them.

Then, Fluttershy turned towards Sunset, fidgeting with the styrofoam cup in her hands. “Wallflower seems like she’s having a good time.”

“Yeah… She really is.” With another chuckle, Sunset crossed her arms over her chest. “I was really surprised she wanted to come out tonight. I’m glad she did, though.” She looked over her shoulder to find Wallflower giving the pinata a smack, sending a cloud of cheap candy flying through the air. Pinkie and Dash both whooped and ran after the wayward treats, while the others laughed and clapped.

“Me too.” Fluttershy offered her a slight smile. “So, um…” She rotated the cup in her hands a few times before asking, “How are you doing?”

“Oh, I’m doing good,” Sunset answered, almost reflexively, shooting her a quick grin before her gaze returned to the stars. “Glad everyone’s having fun.”

After a moment, Fluttershy cleared her throat—a tiny, almost indistinguishable noise over the clamor of the other girls collecting candy. “How, um, are you really doing?” she asked, a little bolder this time, her long, delicate fingers tapping around the edge of the cup.

Mid-exhale, Sunset turned to Fluttershy. Steam wafted from the corners of her lips, making her almost formidable as a dragon in the right light. “What do you mean?”

“Well…” Slowly, Fluttershy glanced through the adjacent window, then to the stars that captivated Sunset so, before her gaze fell upon the taller girl. “I, um… Hope I’m not out of line, but…” The styrofoam cup twisted and turned, circling and churning, little drops of sweet-smelling apple cider dripping onto the snowswept ground. “I know, it’s, um, probably nothing, but…”

While Fluttershy struggled to find the words, Sunset’s heart both thundered and came to a halt. A vision of the past several months danced before her eyes: the web searches; the journal entries; the textbooks and workbooks; the parties she’d missed, when Wallflower was feeling “ill”; the ones she’d attended, prior to this one, where Sunset would sneak out early, phone in hand, or Wallflower’s hand in her own, whispering and assuring and soothing and—

“—I-I don’t want to assume, but, Wallflower, um—”

The whispers and shared glances when they thought Sunset wasn’t looking. The assurances that they were here if “anyone” needed anything. The uptick in positive affirmations, cute animal pictures, and cliche, almost trite memes posted in their group chat—

“—If you ever w-want to talk, um, I just want you to know—n-not that it’s not okay if you don’t want to talk, but—”

The lies, the half-truths, the things she could only hint towards—

“—It’s hard.”

Mid-sentence, Fluttershy froze, eyes wide.

Sunset turned to face her at last. “It’s really hard, sometimes. I’m…” Her eyes fell to the ground. “I… I want to help her, Shy. Regardless of what happens between us, I want to help her as much as I can. No matter what it takes. But...”

Meeting her eyes, Sunset sighed. “Sometimes, I have no idea what I’m doing. And I worry I’m just making things worse.”

In the ensuing silence, Sunset turned away.

Perhaps she’d said too much already.

“... She talks about you, you know.”

Sunset whirled back around, her hair almost whipping her in the face. “Sh-she does?”

“She… She cares deeply for you, Sunset.” The hint of a smile spread across Fluttershy’s face. “When she helped me set up the vegetable garden for the animal shelter, she talked so much about you. How you helped her find a place, how you helped her get a job, how much she enjoys spending time with you…” She trailed off, messing with her cup, before continuing, “No matter how much you might think you aren’t helping, or where you think you should do better or do more... I think you should give yourself a little more credit. Even with the bad times, she’s happier with you around. And besides…” That smile widened, shining in the moonlight. “She really loves you, Sunset.”

Without missing a beat, Sunset replied, “I know. And I love her too.”

“Well…” Fluttershy leaned against the wall, following Sunset’s gaze as it traced the constellations. “At the very least, you have each other. You’re there for each other, and you care about each other. And that’s something special, isn’t it?”

Warmth washing over her, Sunset could only smile. “... Yeah…”

Though so much remained unspoken, Sunset felt content with the silence that fell between them. She found the stars more compelling than they had been in ages; it had been a while since Nature had moved her like this.

“And we love you, too.” Fluttershy reached over, laying a hand on Sunset’s shoulder. “And we’re here for both of you, no matter what.”

Sunset reached up to meet Fluttershy’s hand with her own. “Thanks, Shy. That really means a lot.”

“You’re welcome.” Fluttershy removed her hand from Sunset’s shoulder, though her smile remained. “You don’t have to do this alone. Don’t forget to take care of yourself, too.”

After a moment, Sunset nodded. “You’re right.” With a sincere smile, Sunset brushed a hand across her eyes, then nudged towards the door. “C’mon. Let’s get back to the party.”

The night was still cold, but Sugarcube Corner was warm.

Two empty mugs rested beside each other on thin coasters. When both her arms were free, Sunset brought Wallflower closer. She shifted in her grasp, lying back down on Sunset with a soft sigh.

Holding her girlfriend close, their favorite songs playing behind them, Sunset finally let herself sigh contentedly in turn. It was not a full, complete surrender—but it was a surrender nonetheless. She still had her boots on, and her muscles tensed, and all sorts of words—written and otherwise—swirling through her head. She was still ready. Still focused.

But now that she was here, and Wallflower was in her arms, Sunset could allow herself a moment of respite.

Closing her eyes, she indulged her thoughts on the comforting warmth of the beautiful girl lying atop her. On the soft, silky strands of green hair sliding through her fingers. On the soft hums that her touch elicited. On the scent of hot chocolate still lingering in her nose, the sweetness still sticking to her tongue—

Oh.

On the tenderness of Wallflower’s lips against hers, as the smaller girl shifted and leaned against her chest. On the sensation of arms carefully wrapping around her neck, pulling her closer. On the salty taste of—

Sunset opened her eyes.

“Wally?” As she gently broke the kiss, Sunset brought a hand to Wallflower’s cheek. “Are you crying?”

“N-no.” Wallflower squeezed her eyes shut, then grit her teeth, a fixed look of determination pushing away the shining tears lingering in the corners of her eyes. She pressed herself against Sunset, then brought their lips together again.

On instinct, Sunset fell back into the caress. Her body responded before her mind had the chance to react. Once it did, she pulled back once more, a frown replacing the heat burning on her cheeks.

“You are, Wally.” Drawing her hands back around Wallflower’s waist—careful again not to brush over her arms—Sunset added, “Please tell me what’s wrong.”

Pursuit was something she had to remind herself to refrain from doing. Trying to get her to talk. Trying to solve the problem. Trying to sever the root of what was a wicked, twisted system of various traumas, anxieties, and experiences, so many of which tangled and spiraled together in ways that made little sense to those outside of it. Learning to rein in those instincts, and let Wallflower come to her instead, was something Sunset had yet to perfect, though she tried every time to do at least a little better.

Tonight, however, she allowed herself to break one of the “rules,” and ask outright.

For, despite the familiarity of their position and their situation—and despite how much she wanted nothing more than to hold her, and kiss her, and pretend everything was okay, if only for a moment—Sunset couldn’t help but worry. Something nagged at the corners of her mind, whispering that, even for all she knew, something wasn’t right.

Wallflower’s hands moved to Sunset’s nape, almost locking onto her as she looked away, her eyes darting between the couch and the floor. In the silence, Sunset did her best to focus, to think things over, to unravel what was needed most in this moment.

As she waited, more tears formed at the corner of Wallflower’s eyes. They were a steady trickle at first. Then, a rain.

Soon, a downpour.

Chest heaving, Wallflower struggled, her breath coming in rapid, short gasps. “I—I-I can’t—S-S-Sunny, I c-c-can’t—”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Sunset whispered, running one hand through Wallflower’s hair, the other resting on her waist. “It’s okay, Wally. I’m right here.” As her own heart galloped, she urged, “Breathe, Wally. Breathe. Slow, okay? Just like we practiced. In—” she inhaled, mentally counted to five—“and out,” she finished, holding the exhale for the same count. “In—” repeat—“out—” and again.

Slowly but surely, Wallflower followed, breathing in time with her. Though her tears continued to fall, Sunset felt her gradually begin to relax. That rapid, thunderous heart beating against hers came to a steady tempo as she remembered to breathe.

Once Wallflower had calmed, Sunset pecked her cheek, then offered her a slight smile. “Let me get you some tissues, okay? I’ll be right back.”

After a moment, Wallflower nodded. “Okay,” she said quietly, untangling herself from Sunset.

With all the grace she could muster—which wasn’t much, considering she still had her clunky riding boots on—Sunset rose from the couch and headed into the bathroom. She flicked on the sole light switch, which also activated the fan.

Loud whirring and a bright, fluorescent light illuminated the tiny space. Sunset grabbed the box of tissues on an adjacent shelf and pulled a handful free. Setting them aside, she took a moment to look at herself in the mirror.

It had been tough, but she’d been able to hold back her own tears. A splash of water on her face, a little rubbing at her eyes, and no one—including Wallflower, hopefully—would be able to tell the difference.

As she turned off the tap, dried her hands, and reached for the tissues, her gaze fell to the one place it shouldn’t have.

Yet again, her eyes betrayed her.

The small wastebasket beside the toilet was full, in need of a new trash bag and a trip to the outside dumpster. Its contents were almost overflowing, used Q-tips and dental floss dangling over the cheap, plastic edge.

But it wasn’t the lack of tidiness that made Sunset pause.

It was the dots of red on white… and the discarded cartridges stained just the same.

At the sight, Sunset felt something swell within her. Something that wasn’t anger, much less rage, but something that also… was. Something that wanted to grab every single piece of metal in existence and forge and temper and mold them into something else. Something that couldn’t hurt her. That could never hurt her.

For a moment, Sunset wished to become Daydream Shimmer again, to be the phoenix with the flaming wings, and melt away all the world’s edges.

… But the moment passed, and, as Sunset stood there, staring into the dollar-store trash can she had brought in with the appliances and plants and pots for hot cocoa, she realized that if it wasn’t those, then it would be a knife. Or a fork. Or a nail. Or a tack or a bottle or a pipe or a needle or—

—Anything, and everything.

Daydream Shimmer could exorcise some demons… but not all. No matter how hard she tried. And how much she shouldn’t.

Because, at the end of the day, this wasn’t about Sunset. About anything she had done, or hadn’t, or could or should or would.

And it was that realization, more than anything, that guided her from the bathroom back to the couch.

“Sunset?”

Looking down at the balled-up tissues in her fist, Sunset realized she was shaking.

“I… S-sorry,” Sunset muttered, passing the tissues over to Wallflower. “G-got a bit distracted, I guess.”

Before Wallflower could respond, Sunset sat down on the couch. With trembling hands, she unlaced her boots, then kicked them away.

Beside her, Wallflower dabbed at her eyes with the tissues. Her eyes remained fixed on Sunset. Widening.

“O-okay.” Taking another deep breath, Sunset screwed her expression back into an amalgamation that she hoped appeared comforting. “S-so, uh, anyway…” She reached over and took Wallflower’s free hand in her own. Flicking her thumb across her palm, she said again, “Tell me what’s wrong.”

To Sunset’s shock, Wallflower not only took her hand in turn, but looked up, meeting Sunset’s gaze. Her beautiful brown eyes were speckled with red.

Sunset tried not to think about red.

“I…” Wallflower sighed. “I’m so fucking stupid.”

Sunset winced, as if struck. It wasn’t the first time she’d heard Wallflower swear, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. But to hear it so bluntly, and directed at herself…

“I—I couldn’t wait twenty fucking minutes.” Wallflower stroked Sunset’s palm with rapid sweeps of her thumb. “I knew you were on your way and I—I couldn’t even wait that long.”

“W-Wallflower—”

“I made it to four days this time,” Wallflower continued, her tone and timbre surprisingly steady. “Four days, and I just threw it all away, because…” She trailed off, shaking her head. “I don’t even know.”

Sunset gave Wallflower’s hand a gentle squeeze. “I know that you—”

“I was already having a bad day, and I just went and made it worse.” The conviction in Wallflower’s voice was no less pronounced than if she was declaring the sky blue and grass green. “I always do this. Every time.”

“That really—”

“I’m sorry for ruining your night off.” Though she didn’t let go of Sunset’s hand, Wallflower’s grip weakened.

Sunset shook her head. “Wally, I was just—”

“I don’t deserve you.”

“Wally—”

Wallflower’s shoulders shook. “I-I don’t deserve to—”

Taking both of Wallflower’s hands in her own, Sunset took a breath. Against everything she’d read, researched, been told, or knew to work in the past, she said, almost in a whisper, “I wish you didn’t say those things about yourself.”

“B-but they’re true. I…” Wallflower looked down. “I deserve this.”

“No, you don’t.” Drawing closer, Sunset bit her lip. “I… I get why you think that, and where it comes from. And I don’t fault you for it,” she added quickly, a bit of reason rising above the surging emotion rising from her heart of hearts. “But that doesn’t make it true.”

“You don’t get it.” Though she snapped her words back, Wallflower thankfully didn’t draw away. “I’m useless. I can barely hold a job—”

“Mister Oak Leaf loves your—”

“I work there one day a week.”

Sunset recoiled. Arguing wasn’t going to help. Whether thinking with her heart or her mind, she knew that. Instead of replying, she stroked Wallflower’s palm again, waiting on her to continue.

Sighing, Wallflower stared back down at the floor. “If it weren’t for you and the girls, I wouldn’t even have this place. I’d still be...” She spared a moment to look around the cozy studio. “You’ve done so much for me, and how do I repay you?” Tears again threatened to mist over her eyes, shining into Sunset’s own. “B-by constantly bothering you with my stupid, miserable, depressive bullshit—”

“You’re not a bother, Wally,” Sunset replied, on instinct. “I…” She paused, feeling around for the right words. “The way you’re feeling… It’s a tough spot to be in. Having been helped so much and feeling undeserving of it. I know how that feels. Really, I do,” she added, seeing skepticism flash in Wallflower’s eyes.

Before she could stop herself, Sunset continued, “When I first came through the mirror, I was an awful, toxic person.” She continued to caress Wallflower’s hands with her own as the recollections flowed. “It wasn’t just bullying, either. I didn’t have any ID, or a Social Security number. I had to beg, steal, and borrow to get by. Mostly steal.” A self-deprecating chuckle. “If it wasn’t for this one cop letting me go after I stole some cigarettes from the bodega—”

Wallflower raised an eyebrow. “You smoked?”

“Nah. But I knew I could sell them to underclassmen and maybe make rent.” Sunset frowned. “Anyway. The point is, I did a lot of horrible things. I literally became a demon. A shadow of myself.” She snuck her own glance at the floor. “If Princess Twilight and the others hadn’t defeated me, that magic would’ve consumed me.” She rose to meet Wallflower’s gaze. “It took a long time for me to not only to feel deserving of their friendship after that, but to really accept it.

“I know it’s not the same, but…” Gently, Sunset brought their joined hands together. “Me not feeling deserving of their forgiveness, kindness, and love didn’t mean that I wasn’t deserving of it. How I felt didn’t change how they felt about me. It didn’t change what they saw when they looked at me. Even if I felt awful about myself, and like I deserved every bad thing in the world,” Sunset continued, pausing to take a breath, “they saw someone who deserved another chance.”

“And that’s what I see when I look at you.” Sunset looked away for a moment, eying the orchid garden on the kitchen counter. “Remember when you gave me that flower? Right after we first started dating?”

“The pink orchid?” Wallflower raised her other eyebrow. “Um, yeah?”

“When it withered, you said it wasn’t my fault. That it didn’t have the right soil, or enough water, or some combination of the two.” A faint smile curled across Sunset’s lips. “But if it had those things, it would’ve survived. Maybe even thrived.”

Once she finished, Sunset gave Wallflower’s hands a gentle squeeze. She watched as Wallflower glanced down at their shared touch, seeming to think something over, before looking up at her.

“That’s a nice metaphor,” Wallflower said at last, sighing. “I hope I can live it someday.”

“You’re already living it.” Sunset brushed a stray strand of hair out of her girlfriend’s eyes. “You’re working, you’re living on your own, you’re coming out with the girls and I more—”

“—One day a week, barely, and I only drag you all down.”

Despite herself, Sunset felt her face fall.

Wallflower sighed again. “Sorry.”

Sunset should’ve left her boots on; it would’ve made kicking herself more effective. What was the point of learning all this, of trying so hard, if she only made it worse? If she only fell short? If she spoke too much, too soon, and couldn’t take it back? What good would she—

“I’m a disease to everyone I know,” Wallflower mumbled, still holding Sunset’s hands as her own began to tremble once more. “It’ll happen to you too. You’ll say it won’t, but—”

Reaching over, Sunset told her otherwise.

Whereas Wallflower’s kisses before had been salted with her tears, with desire intermixed with denial, with her desperation to push away the darkness creeping at the edges of her mind, Sunset’s picked up where her words had fallen short. Where technology failed. Where the books failed.

Where the wise mind fell short, her heart of hearts could bridge the gap.

“Wally,” Sunset murmured, resting their foreheads together, “no matter what your mind tells you, I’m here because I want to be. I’m with you because I want to be. I love you, even if your brain won’t let you make sense as to why.”

Though she didn’t pull away, Wallflower countered, in the way that only bad thoughts could make her counter, “But why do you? How can you be so sure? I don’t understand.”

“Why?” Sunset couldn’t help but laugh a little. “Wally, I just—I just do. I love so many things about you.” She rested a hand on Wallflower’s cheek. “The way you smile when you’re talking about, or doing, something you’re passionate about. The way you care so much about everyone, even when it’s tough to be kind.

“All the stuff you know about, that I don’t. I’m always learning something from you, whether it’s random plant facts or some game I’ve never heard of. And speaking of... “ Sunset continued, grinning, “Your silly sense of humor, and that cute little laugh of yours.”

Wallflower blushed. “I hate my laugh…”

“Well, I don’t.” Sunset couldn’t stop smiling. “I always love hearing it. Just like I love seeing you smile, even though I know it’s hard for you to let yourself do it.”

For the first time that night, Wallflower smiled.

It was brief, but it was beautiful.

“And I mean, you’re cute, too,” Sunset teased, her grin growing playful. “Well, beautiful, really.”

“Stop…” Wallflower mumbled, though the return of her tiny smile told Sunset she meant the opposite.

And Sunset did just that.

“But, above all…” Moving back slightly, Sunset looked into Wallflower’s eyes as she held her hands. “I love the way you make me feel. How you’re my favorite part of the day, no matter what. How you’ve taught me to be a better person. How you’ve been there for me. How you’ve made my life better.

“It might not feel that way,” Sunset added, seeing the objection already rising in her eyes, “especially with the things I’ve helped you with lately, but, trust me. For everything you feel I’ve done for you, you’ve done just as much for me, too.”

“I…” Looking down at their hands, Wallflower shook her head, then met Sunset’s kind eyes and gentle smile with uncertainty. “I know you’re right. Everything you just said was right. But I still feel this way.” She sighed. “I know you love me, and I know that I love you—”

Sunset’s heart never failed to skip a beat every time she said it.

“—I know that feeling is real. I just… I don’t know why you do.” Wallflower shook her head. “It almost doesn’t feel real at times.”

Silence.

Then, Sunset asked, “Wallflower, do you trust me?”

Without hesitation, Wallflower nodded.

“Then… How about this…” Smiling, Sunset spoke, letting her words flow from a place beyond rhyme or reason. “Even if you don’t understand—even if your mind will never let you understand—trust me when I say how I feel, because I mean every word I say. Even if I don’t always word it right, I will never lie to you. And even if you can’t understand why I love you, that doesn’t make me not love you. If your mind won’t let you believe it, then at least trust that I’m being honest with you. That I always have, and always will.”

Once the silence settled between them, Sunset heard one of the most eloquent words in any language she would hope to know:

“Okay.”

The way it was said—subdued, sincere, strong in its own way—told her she had no reason to doubt its validity.

Still, if she had any reservations in that regard, the return of that smile brushed them away.

Leaning forward, Wallflower kissed her. It was soft and sweet, yet wonderful all the same. That gorgeous smile never leaving her face, she said quietly, “Thank you for helping me so much with everything, even though I don’t make it easy.”

Holding her close with a smile of her own, Sunset returned the kiss. “You’re always welcome. And…” Though the words were familiar, Sunset meant them just as much every time: “I love you no less on days like this.”

“I know,” Wallflower replied, her smile interspersed between kisses, “and I love you for it.”

Whereas words could only do so much, that wasn’t to say they could do nothing. And while Sunset Shimmer knew, in that moment, as she did every other, there were things she could have done better…

… Right now, it didn’t matter.

Because, right now, Sunset had Wallflower in her arms, and Wallflower had Sunset in hers, and, here they were, for each other and with each other and with each other, right where they needed to be, even if the night was dark and the dawn had yet to come.

Until then—and beyond that, if she’d be so lucky—Sunset was there for Wallflower, in every way she could be.

And she wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

Author's Note

This fic makes use of flower language. All plants mentioned are deliberately chosen.

If you liked this story, please go check out Scampy's work. I'm sure you'll like her stories, too.

Thanks for reading. As always, comments are appreciated. :heart: