But They Smell Quite Nice
The sun was shining in her green locks again.
Sunset always looked forward to it. Even through the misty, bleary eyes of someone who had not slept as much as they should, she could always count on waking up next to the angelic imagery of her beloved. The rays shimmering in the borders of frazzled green, caressing the strands as if the petals of a flower, starved for sunlight.
Her Wallflower.
SRNNK
Her snoring Wallflower.
Nothing a quick pillow to the back of the head didn’t fix.
“Wha— wuh, eh?” Wallflower jolted up, looking around with a squinted eye and another that didn’t even bother opening. All that was missing was a feather stuck in her hair, but they couldn’t afford feather pillows.
Wallflower grunted once she found the target of her despair.
Her little groggy green goblin.
“Morning to you too, Wally.”
Her response was another crude, yet loving, grunt.
“Might want to get started.” Sunset shimmied up the bed and put her reading glasses back on, picking up the tiny book she had at the bedside. “One hour ‘till we have to open shop. Mane Street will be busy today.”
“Mouth feels like death,” Wallflower mumbled, a pillow over her head warding off the sun. “My toothbrush?”
“Still missing.”
“Ugh...”
“You know you can use mine.”
“Ew.” Wallflower crawled up and out of bed, dragging her feet all the way to the bathroom. “Thanks.”
“Love you too!” Sunset’s shout was met with a lazy waving hand.
Love. Sunset remembered the first time she said it. The weight she put on the word, as if saying it at the wrong time would make all she had crash and tumble.
But then, when they finally looked into each other's eyes and said it to themselves, in a quiet lunch together at the park, it felt… natural. Liberating. Nothing extravagant or extraordinary. Just two girls coming to the same realization at once.
Now, it wasn't a declaration. It was more of a... friendly reminder. Sunset loved Wallflower. Wallflower loved Sunset. Grass grows. Money makes the world go ‘round. The works.
“Here.” Something was thrust at the edge of Sunset’s vision.
“Wazzat?” Sunset put her book down to see Wallflower, now freshened up, holding up a little wooden box. “Oh! Sorry, I’m already married.”
“Haha, funny.” Wallflower tossed the box on Sunset’s lap, turning to the mirror to finish brushing her hair — a futile attempt to tame the great messy moss. “I found it while cleaning the attic. Remember it?”
Sunset picked up and opened the box. Inside was a shiny pendant.
The pendant. Still looking pristine, despite what was probably months in a dusty attic. It had a quiet buzz of power beneath the crystal facade, giving it a slightly unnatural warmth.
The last time Sunset used it was probably the worst and best day of her life. Yes, it beat even the wedding — Rainbow almost crashed that one, and it was more of a confirmation than a declaration anyway. Much like the L-word.
“Heh. How could I forget…” Sunset closed her hand on the polished stone and looked into Wallflower’s eyes. “Thanks, Wally.”
“Figured you might want to, I dunno, keep it or something.”
“I’ll do you one better.”
With a swish of hair and a click, the pendant was now hanging nicely on Sunset’s neck.
“Oh! That, uhm,” Wallflower stammered, scratching the back of her head. “It looks good on you.”
Four years living under the same roof and she still felt flustered with compliments. Both giving and taking. Sunset wouldn’t have it any other way, though. Wallflower Blush did her name justice, and it was adorable.
“Thanks again.” Sunset finally threw the covers to the side and started stretching. “Guess breakfast is on me, then.”
“Actually,” Wallflower interrupted, “I kind of have a new recipe I wanted to try...”
Sunset raised an eyebrow, smile turning cheeky. “If you expect the horse to say ‘no’ to free food...”
Wallflower rolled her eyes.
“Hmm. I like that smell,” Sunset said the moment she entered the kitchen, quietly sneaking her way closer to the oven.
“It’s the new recipe.” Wallflower said, oblivious to her approaching attacker. “I don’t know if I’m doing it right, though...”
Sunset pounced, arms closing in around Wallflower’s waist as chin and shoulder met.
“Hey there.” Sunset said, burying her face on the mess of green hair that resisted any and all proper brushing. “Looking good.”
“I think they look too lumpy.” Wallflower meekly poked the batter on the pan. “Might’ve put too much lemon juice on the egg whites… or just beat the meringue too much.”
Sunset reached for the little radio next to the oven and switched it on. “I wasn’t talking about the pancakes.”
Wallflower groaned. “Seriously?”
“Yep.”
“That was so cheesy.”
“That’s how I like my pancakes.” Sunset kissed her neck. “Extra cheesy.”
“Uhm...” Wallflower chuckled. “They are sweet pancakes, y’know.”
“Shhh. Don’t ruin my moment.”
The next song that entered the radio would have perked Sunset’s ears, if she could even do that anymore. She would recognize that bad boy a mile away, during three different opera concerts and a punk party. It just screamed ‘listen to me’.
Sunset couldn’t resist smirking and gazing up at those deep green eyes. She slowly started moving her waist side to side, in tempo with the music.
“Sunset...”
“C’mon.” The smirk was a full blown smile now, but her cheek was still nestled in Wallflower’s shoulder. “You remember the moves.”
One to the right. Two to the left. Rooound around and go crazy.
“All I remember is how I looked silly when I messed them up.” Wallflower kept poking the pancake with the spoon, but Sunset spotted the hint of something more in those beautiful lips. A shy little turn of the corners, barely enough for anyone to notice.
Sunset noticed.
“Well, I don’t remember that, so it clearly didn’t happen.” Sunset gently pushed her head further, their cheeks pressing together. “Pleeease?”
Wallflower kept dutifully staring at the pancakes, a tinge of red in her cheeks as her head tried its best to bury into her shoulders. “This is embarrassing.”
Sunset chuckled. “There is literally nobody around, Wally.”
And yet, Wallflower remained motionless.
Sunset had never been the best student in class. In fact, she had to cheat in her physics final. Twice. But there was one fact from that class that never quite managed to slip her memory: an object at rest will stay at rest.
Unless acted on by an external force.
The next chorus, Sunset swished her hips side to side with purpose.
Wallflower looked back… and promptly lifted a hand to carefully shade her eyes. “Oh my god. Really?”
“Oh, you know it.”
Sunset kept moving with the music, theatrically raising one hand in invitation. Its desired companion, the other hand who was being used as a shield from the embarrassment, was tempted. Before long, it left its dutiful post and rested on Sunset’s own, bringing a shy smile alongside.
With a practiced flick, Sunset spun her Wallflower. A little roundabout that ended in her own arms. Both dancers mirrored each other’s smile.
Then the music really started.
Sometimes the dancing steps interweaved harmoniously. Sometimes they disobeyed. One curious little foot would put itself where it didn’t belong, and it would be promptly punished by being stepped upon. A quiet yelp would be uttered, a cautious warning, and two subsequent giggles. The tempo, as if sentient, would slow down to let each catch up... and suddenly accelerate again, dancers be damned.
Sometimes they’d catch each other and dance together, slowly. Other times they would both separate, but still move around in synchrony, arms waving and legs flailing.
Wallflower almost slipped on the floor while sashaying back and forth, but her smile only grew. Sunset almost knocked over the bowl of batter multiple times with her waist, and a careful scolding ensued every time. They were out of practice and they knew it. Despite reassurances, there were moves neither of them remembered, and plenty that both fumbled.
But that didn’t matter, it wasn’t the point.
It was a circus of tiny disasters. But before long, the errors diminished, the synchrony increased, and two became one. The errors were the same, but they were done together, almost with a cheeky purpose. A spectacle of little achievements.
The tempo slowed, the moves quieted, and all that was left were two women looking into each other’s eyes. Smiling and breathless.
As the music faded, hands left each other, and hips drifted away, each dancer had a little less pep in their step, a little more shyness in their smiles, a little regret that it was over. Like a recently-separated addict, whose drug was companionship.
Then Wallflower, chest still heaving, scrunched her nose. “You smell that?”
“C’mon, I’m not that bad,” Sunset protested — after quietly sniffing under her arm and scrunching her face.
Wallflower turned around, eyes snapping to the oven. “My pancakes!”
In a hurry, she grabbed the handle and started ventilating the rancid smell away. The little blob of batter had deflated and become charcoal-black at the edges.
“Well… now they look lumpy and burnt.” Sunset couldn’t resist herself, or her snicker. “You can have that one.”
Wallflower swiveled back, sooty pan in one clenched hand and eye twitching.
“Ugh. When did you show up? I swear...”
The mirror told Sunset what her body had already been complaining about. Beads of sweat were forming on the edges of her face, her long hair was sticking to her nape. She felt cold, but every time she touched her forehead, it’d come back normal.
She splashed some water in her face, and spread the cool liquid on the back of her neck. Even used the little deodorant bottle they kept in the cabinet, just in case. Now wasn’t the time to be closed off in the bathroom like a ugly little ball of sweat and heat.
She was on business hours.
Sunset walked off after drying up her face, and entered the front of their shop once again. There were some plants in the back she had to put on display, and leaving Wallflower to handle the customers alone wasn’t always the best choice.
They really needed more help around. The gardening shop was tiny, but the work was anything but.
However, help had a cost they couldn’t afford just yet. Mostly money, but also that magical feeling of sharing this space and their work between them, and them alone.
Also, it would be hard to steal kisses with another employee around, so... no hiring just yet.
Wallflower was, as Sunset guessed, at the counter. Almost protectively holding onto a little yellow bud. There was also another older looking woman standing in front of her, wallet in hand. Their last customer, as the quiet shelves with their silent green residents attested to.
“I.. uhm, why not take one of these Begonias!” Wallflower pushed forward another vase, this one full of dainty little pink flowers. “They are perfect for this time of the year. Yeah.”
The older woman pointed to the vase Wallflower had behind her, looking rather confused. “But I picked that one.”
“Uhm. Yes. But… these will look much better, a-and live longer!” Wallflower gave a nervous smile. “Trust me, I am an expert.”
“Huh. If you say so.” The woman picked up the Begonia, looking closer at the price tag. “They are cheaper, anyway.”
With a sigh, Wallflower rang up the customer’s order, and waved her goodbye.
Only to look back and almost bump into Sunset.
“Wally...” Sunset began, breathing out more than speaking it.
Wallflower cringed her shoulders. “W-what?”
“You’re selling out the Begonias again.”
“Y-yes.”
“Our stock of Coreopsis is already dying,” Sunset said, picking up and carefully stroking the petals of the Tickseed that Wallflower had held onto.
“I… I just can’t part with them, okay?”
“Rent is coming up…”
“I know, I know!” Wallflower waved her hand to the door. “But I can’t just… watch them go.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know why,” she answered lamely.
Sunset pinched the bridge of her nose, the back of her neck becoming balmy with sweat again. “Look… I’ve let it go the past month, but now it’s cutting—”
“You let it?”
“Yes. And it’s cutting into the business already.”
Wallflower pulled the flower back into her hands, the vase wobbling in the little ceramic plate holding it. “This is our business.”
Sunset went to reach for the vase again. “And as a partner in it, you need to listen—”
“Sunset!”
The car suddenly halted, a leather boot smashing her down on the breaks.
Sunset’s hands were no longer going for the vase. Now the whitening knuckles were holding tight onto a wheel. The car’s wheel. Their car’s wheel.
And the traffic light above them was blinking an angry red.
Sunset shook her head. “Sorry. I just… blanked.”
“Please pay more attention,” Wallflower said, holding onto the passenger seat as if her life depended on it.
Her head now clear, Sunset focused on the street. Traffic was slower now, only a couple of cars coming and going, but still, running a red light…
Nevermind, what the hell was that? Sunset swore the last thing she remembered was them, at the store. Definitely not driving.
“Uhm, the tank.”
Sunset hummed dismissively, mind still elsewhere.
“It’s almost empty,” Wallflower piped up again, her voice like a fork scratching ceramic.
“I can see that, Wally.”
“There is a gas station right—”
“I know,” Sunset interrupted, tightening her hold on the wheel. “It’ll hold for the next one.”
“Why not just go here?”
“It only just started blinking.”
“It’s right there.”
“Fine.” Sunset swiveled the car a bit too aggressively into the station, parking at the closest pump. “Have it your way.”
One of the gas jockeys, a man barely out of his teen years with an ill-fitting company shirt, looked up from his gameboy as they arrived. “Want to clean the windshield, ma’am?”
“No, no, we’re fine.” Sunset nodded to him, picking up the pump herself. “Thanks.”
The man shrugged and went back to his portable game, leaning into a pump.
The heat from the sun, plus the leather jacket, had Sunset’s hair already sticking to her back again. She had to wipe her palms on her jeans before picking up the pump and fitting it into the car.
She could feel Wallflower gazing at her, but choose not to look back. Just fill the tank, pay it up, and leave. She was dying to drop on the couch, switch on the air cooler, and doze off to some television.
The pump locked up, and she placed it back on the case, gazing up at the price marked.
“What the...” Sunset said, face souring. The little display on the pump was showing some very unpleasant numbers. “What is this price?”
“Gas ain’t cheap,” the man piped up, still focused on his gameboy.
“Are you kidding me?” Sunset said, “The station further down the road was cheaper when we passed by earlier!”
“Sunset, let’s not...” Wallflower tried, her window lowered.
The man shrugged. “That station ain’t this station, lady.”
“What am I paying for, the scenery?” Sunset threw her hands up, her hair sticking to her forehead.
“Sunset, please.” Wallflower begged from the passenger door, now fully open.
Sunset breathed in deeply and turned away from the man, her chest heaving in and out. She pointedly chose not to look at Wallflower. “Here—” she fished out her wallet and tossed it to her “—might as well use my card, too.”
Wallflower caught the wallet, eyebrows scrunched together. “There’s no need for that, you know?”
“Look...” Sunset began.
And a blink later, Sunset found herself already inside her own home, splayed on the couch. The television was on, tuned into a boring channel that you only watched to switch your brain off, and the air cooler felt heavenly. The door was open and Wallflower was coming in.
If the car keys in her hand were any hint, they had just arrived home, and for some reason, Wallflower had driven the rest of the way.
“Alright, something is definitely wrong,” Sunset muttered to herself, getting up. “Did you feel that too?”
“Huh? Feel?” Wallflower was carrying the vase she didn’t sell back inside. It had a few cracks in it, patched up with glue, but seemed fine enough to hold the Tickseed. “Feel what?”
“This!” Sunset waved to the skies. “The… I don’t know. These skips, breaks, whatever.”
“Are you feeling alright? You're sweating,” Wallflower asked, worried.
Sunset never liked seeing those pretty green eyes crinkle with concern... or did they ever? She couldn’t recall the last time they did.
“That’s a no, then,” Sunset hummed, wiping her forehead. That is, until she processed what Wallflower had in her arms. “Wally… why did you bring the Tickseed back? Didn’t we just talk about this?”
“Uh, we did? S-sorry. I thought... I dunno… just wanted to bring it, I guess.”
“Fine, whatever,” Sunset waved dismissively, the room heating up despite the air cooler. “I’ll help plant it in the garden later.”
There was definitely something wrong with her. Breaks weren’t normal. People didn’t just blank. That was all tangible evidence, all real. But what was it, then?
Sunset went to the bathroom to splash some more water in her face. The heat was becoming unbearable.
After-effect of equestrian magic in a human body?
Not likely. She still talked to her friends — though, admittedly, less than she’d have liked to. If she was suffering this, it stood to reason they’d be suffering something similar, too. Especially with Rainbow, going ‘pony-up’ all the time.
But if the number of calls marked as going out of her cellphone were any clue, she had already checked with them in the past hour, multiple times.
She didn’t particularly remember any of the calls, however.
An undiscovered illness, then?
Maybe — darned feverish sweat would corroborate that. But she and Wallflower had their check-ups just last week, none of their families had any history of this kind of thing. Would the doctor miss something? Could she have contracted this in just a week? The answer to both was probably in the negative. Probably.
Whatever it was, there was no sense in looking for a cause without properly assessing the symptom. And if her gut was right… she better check.
Sunset rushed to their attic. She pulled the little door built on the roof and went up the small ladder, hands almost slipping from the humidity.
She knew for a fact they had it stashed somewhere in there.
Box by box was thrown open, cardboard almost ripping, with little care given to closing them again. Tools that Sunset didn’t care for, wooden carvings from the time she and Wallflower had gone to a summer camp together, some old toys that she didn’t know the origin of, some old consoles from her gaming days, some…
There it was. A big book with a velvet cover, filled with pictures.
“Sunset... please talk to me.” Wallflower’s voice came from the base of the ladder.
Sunset slid down and thrust the book in front of Wallflower, pointing at a specific picture. Taken some time after they finally married, enjoying summer at the beach with their friends. They looked so happy. The rings on both their fingers were shining so brightly.
Without any precious stones or embellishments, of course. Just a bland gold-coloured band with an empty center-piece. Sunset couldn’t afford anything more extravagant — and Wallflower appreciated the modesty.
“This. Remember this?” she asked.
“Huh? Our trip? I mean, yes?” Wallflower picked the album, bringing it closer to her. “We went to the beach with the girls.”
“Well, yeah. Even I know that just from the picture.” Sunset stole the album back, flipping through the pages. “I mean details. What did you like about the beach?”
“Uhm… I don’t really, uh… the ocean, I guess?”
Sunset hummed absentmindedly. Her mind was more focused on what she had in her hands, fingers staining the cover with moisture.
Page after page, photo after photo. Some were quite vivid in her mind.
Sunset could almost taste the barbecue Applejack had done that day — who would’ve thought you could grill an apple like that? Oh, she remembered the sweet smell of their shop’s first batch of Heliotrope flowers, somewhere between almond and vanilla that almost burned your nostrils if you sniffed close enough. And this one, heh... that scar in her elbow took a long while to heal.
But that was not all of them.
Some were empty. Blanks. A vague feeling of contentment. Some recollection of laughter. If pressured, maybe a generic response to not look like a forgetful dummy or an uncaring friend.
Don’t be a coward. You know what it is, and this confirms it. You’ve seen… no, felt it before.
The symptom was clear, and now for the cause...
There was another book that she needed to get, one that was rather special. A final nail in this coffin.
“I need to go do something,” Sunset pulled the ladder close and rushed to their bedroom. This book wouldn’t be collecting dust in the attic. “Don’t wait on me for dinner.”
“Sunset? Where are you going? Sunset!” Wallflower jumped in front of her, half-heartedly blocking the door. “You’re weirding me out, rushing all around and not even—”
“Wallflower, for the love of... I just need some time tothink!”
Sunset found herself back in the comfortable thrum of her speeding car. With a full tank, an empty seat by her side, and a quiet highway stretching to the horizon. No red lights to stop her.
Another break.
One of her hands was on the wheel, while the other stabilized a hefty book on her lap, a pen intertwined in her fingers. She breathed in deeply, easing her head and back into the leather seat. The air conditioner felt incredibly good, turned to the coldest setting. She wasn’t even sweating anymore.
Some part of her mind felt… wrong. It wasn’t the usual quiet buzz of acceptance. There was now a loud of disapproval. There were currently two thorns in her side, and her unconscious was making sure their wounds throbbed as much as possible.
One of the thorns was sitting in her lap, the blank pages staring at her expectantly, waiting to deliver their message across worlds.
Every objection she could conjure died on her lips. Asking shouldn’t hurt, and if anyone knew about it, it would be Twilight.
And yet, she couldn’t bring herself to use the book inside the house. Next to… it’d be betrayal. Kind of. Maybe? It felt like betrayal. Why else would she doubt? Someone who trusted another had no reason to doubt. Right?
It was easier if Sunset wasn’t looking at her. If she was far away. The distance dissolved the hurt.
She plucked the thorn out and wrote, taking great care not to imply anything beyond mere curiosity. The ink inside the pen flowed and stained the paper, the message being replicated and, hopefully, read sooner rather than later.
With that done, she put it out of mind, and slapped the book close.
The other thorn… that one was haunting her from the moment she figured it was an issue with her memory. Sunset knew the brain had a nasty desire to work with patterns, lazy organ that it was. At every occurence, every fact, it tried desperately to make sure the wax held to the mold.
Something happens, the questions come pouring in. Where does this fit? Where have I seen it before?
What happened the last time people forgot things? Who was behind—
Sunset pressed the gas pedal with more force. The speed meter ticked up slowly while the engine shook. The air conditioner fought bravely to fell any beads of sweat who dared think of forming.
Her mind was about to betray her once again. How dare it unearth these horrible things. And about Wallflower? Her Wallflower?
It didn’t happen a lot — scratch that, it never happened. Ever. Sunset would remember if it did, and she would have stopped the thought on its tracks. She would.
This shouldn’t even be crossing her mind. To let the thought roam free would be akin to betraying Wallflower, thrown to the wolves, alone and… forgotten. Again.
Sunset wasn’t that kind of person. She was not stained by the conspiratorial mindset. It was easy to find flaws and negativity. To look at a festering wound oozing dark ichor and milky pus, and imagine how it’d feel to calmly press your finger on it — then to push. But she wasn’t like that.
She wasn’t. Not anymore. She had six of the bestfriends around and a loving wife to prove it.
But then, what was that thought? Detached, almost not her own. A thought that didn’t belong. In a place where all was sweet, comfy and warm… it was licorice. A stem of thorns. A biting wind. A box floating in the river, brought up whenever the current was strong and stormy enough.
Was she at fault for wanting to peek at it? Yes, of course she was.
… maybe.
Despite the air conditioner's best efforts, sweat formed up on Sunset’s forehead. A cold sweat, nestling itself between the damp skin and icy air.
Sunset fished the box out and opened it, dreading the flood of negativity. A negativity with a name, and a clear target. An ugly thing, squirming around on its own secretions, screeching like a wounded banshee.
Instead, inside was just a pretty yellow flower.
No, not just a flower. Despite the velvety petals and vibrant color, this was no single contained organism. This was a silk flower. Deceitful, contagious. An idea-hazard, deadly poison seeping into the well.
When was the last time we had a misunderstanding?
She didn’t know.
The leather boot was still pushed against the pedal. The meter ticked higher than it ever had.
When was the last time we had to give each other some time?
She didn’t know.
Both her hands were tight on the wheel.
When was our last fight?
She didn’t know…
The force of the wind was shaking the car now.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Sunset was taught this at every class, with every teacher. Princess Celestia herself assured her. All things had a place and a reason. Things that didn’t were chaos, and even chaos worked by subverting reason. Subverting, but still working within those confines.
This maladious thought, however… it had no reason. There was no logic, no formal representation, no diagnosis or prescription. Sunset refused to acknowledge its existence.
Wallflower wasn’t… Wallflower was…
Wallflower was there to meet her every morning.
She was there to smile whenever Sunset felt blue.
She was there to dance whenever Sunset was feeling excited.
Whenever Sunset caught a cold, whenever the shivers started and she felt her very core lose heat, Wallflower would climb in the bed and hug her and they’d stay like that and she would share her warmth and drink the hot chocolate she made and it would feel good and if it felt good it couldn’t be bad and that’s what mattered, wasn’t it?
That feeling couldn’t be false. She was only cold if she lacked warmth, and if all you had was cozy and comfy, then the absence of cold wasn’t wrong. It was natural, obvious, a given.
Sunset closed her eyes and breathed deeply, extending her arms slowly in a poor attempt to mimic the feeling with her palms touching the icy glass of both car windows. The vehicle slowly swerved into the opposing lane, the wind deafening despite the closed doors.
She had done it all correctly. They lived together, they enjoyed breakfast together, slept together, they had a stable life together. Together. Together! Their toothbrush might as well be one and the same. Their conversations, monologues. Their interactions, mimicry. Their love, narcissistic— no, stop. Breathe.
Sunset focused on the feeling of the glass, the heat of her palms slowly spreading, slowly doing away with the freezing wind outside. The car was thrumming in sync with her breathing.
All she had... were happy memories. She was living her life, hers and Wallflower’s. Not a performance. There was no need for high and lows like some cruddy roller coaster. Their value was not measured in the applause. It was independent of it.
The boxes were checked again and again and again, check, check, check… her perfect ending had its road paved and smoothed, reaching to a horizon where nobody could guess what happened, except that it would be good.
So why did it have bumps?
Sunset’s lap buzzed.
She hit the break and the vehicle screeched, wobbling left and right as if following a hidden tune. It only barely managed to stop at the side of the road, the wheels leaving marks in the grass.
She didn’t care. Her breathing was hard, but she still only focused on throwing the book open and reading the last message.
‘Hey, Sunset. It's been a while.’
She skimmed the pleasantries. Now was not the time to be nice and proper and… Not when she risked forgetting it all in minutes. Or would she even remember that she received a message? No. She needed answers.
No matter how much it hurt to have to get them.
‘How are things with Wallflower? Ever since—’
Irrelevant.
‘—and you sounded really ~~stressed~~spent, but I didn’t want to pry—’
Skip.
‘—if you two ever need to talk about it, Starlight — remember her? She’s been doing some amazing work with counseling—’
Pointless.
‘—but yes, we did recover the Memory Stone—’
Finally!
‘—Sunburst argued it’d be a shame to lose another artifact, so we tried to stabilize it.
‘No worries though! We made sure to add a failsafe so no other ‘incidents’ would occur. It needs consent of both parties to do its function, and it will only keep doing that function and nothing else — I took inspiration from one of those computers from Canterlot High. Pretty amazing stuff, what they got there!
‘I think we ended up losing some pieces in the reassembling process, since the weight of the whole stone doesn’t match our initial records, but such is the price of science! Anyway, if you’re really worried, you could always check with your—’
Sunset touched her pendant. A dozen little mirrors in a perfectly polished gem. A window into someone’s most intimate possessions.
She looked at the dozens of images with their tear-streaked faces.
Then they merged into one.
Her reflection.
Still staring back at her.
Except it now took residence in the bathroom mirror. A baggy shirt replaced her leather jacket. Her mouth was full of bubbles and a little plastic brush stuck out of it.
“Hey,” a quiet voice said from the door. “You done?”
Sunset didn’t know whether to let her lips tug upwards or to murder the smile before it took hold of her face. She turned to Wallflower. “Y-yeah, pretty much.”
“Cool.” Wallflower nodded, looking at the toothbrush. Her face flushed slightly. “I’m, uh, gonna need to use yours… again.”
“Oh! Of course.” Sunset rinsed the brush quickly and offered it up, arm extended. “Here.”
On a whim born out of herself — or maybe with more agency than she’d like to admit — Sunset quickly pressed her lips with Wallflower’s.
“Eww.” Wallflower’s disgusted noises sounded like music as she leaned away with an adorably scrunched face. The timid red went away, substituted by one of annoyance — Sunset could tell by the way it cutely flushed all the way to Wallflower’s ears. “Rinse your mouth first, Sunset!”
Sunset smiled. “But if I rinse, then I can’t do... this!”
Sunset pounced forward to catch her little green goblin, viciously attacking her with multiple pecks, each leaving behind a trail of foamy lips. From neck to cheek, no mercy was shown, no inch of skin was spared from the bubble menace.
At least until they both slipped and tumbled to the ground, out of breath.
“Oww. My butt.” Wallflower groaned, the shared giggles finally quieting. Another bubbly peck was her reward. “Alright, alright. Love you too.”
“Toothpaste and all?”
“Yes.” Wallflower chuckled, tucking back a frazzled lock of hair that had come in front of her eye. “Why do you like teasing me so much?”
“I like your smile, and I like your red cheeks. Figured I’d try to bring them out more…” Sunset’s grin turned malicious. “Outside the bedroom, I mean.”
“Sunset,” Wallflower warned, like a parent to a petulant child.
Sunset looked upwards, hand touching her chin. “Thought I guess those would be the other cheeks...”
“Sunset!”
“Oh, there they are again.” Sunset softly poked Wallflower’s cheeks. “Flushed and proud!”
And out they were. A smile nestled below shy green eyes and caressed by flushed cheeks. A smile that betrayed only happiness. A happiness that its owner didn’t entirely feel she deserved, yet enjoyed fully. A smile with a specific address, a recipient that was more than glad to ashamedly accept it.
Genuine happiness.
She hugged Wallflower closer.
“Wally...” Sunset began, the words evading her. Or maybe she just didn’t have the courage to admit they were difficult to speak.
“Hmm?”
Closed eyes, breathing to calm the lungs, pacify the heartbeat. “What… what would you do? For this?”
Wallflower cocked her head to the side, the sudden question uttered in a quiet, more serious tone breaking the previous bliss. “This? This what?”
“This. Us.” Sunset waved one hand around, the other still tenderly holding Wallflower. “How do you feel about... us?”
“Huh? Where’s this coming from?”
“Just… thinking.” Sunset sighed, drawing circles in the cold floor tiles with a lonely finger. “Forget it, it’s stupid. I’m being stupid.”
Wallflower grasped the idle hand, pulling it close to her chest. “You’re not being stupid. We are just talking. And talking’s good.”
“Even if the talking feels stupid?”
“Especially then.”
“Alright,” Sunset said, then lifted her head. “Well… then my question stands.”
Wallflower looked down, searching for something that wasn’t there. “I guess what I feel… heh, it’s a bit weird. B-but a good weird! More like… I didn’t really think I’d fall in love with you, I just… found out that I was in love.”
Sunset tipped her head. “How do you mean?”
“Like… it’s tempting to think this is what my life was leading up to, it really is. It’d feel magical that way, straight out of a fantasy book. Make all the hurt from before feel like it mattered, like it had a purpose.” Wallflower chuckled — a dry sound more closely related to a scoff than anything — and forced her voice a couple decibels higher. “Do you find yourself hugging the walls, not really talking to people, feeling that maybe you really are worthless? Well, don’t you worry, once the love of your life comes about, everything will feel like it wasn't so bad!”
“But, wait… now that things are better, that things are different… doesn’t that give those negative feelings some value?” Sunset asked, eyes looking up, begging for answers. “Is it really genuine happiness if nothing’s ever really… bad? If everything’s perfect?”
“I… I don’t know. This feels different, I guess? My life wasn’t a perfect mold waiting for salvation, and all the bad stuff of the past is sunshine and rainbows now that we’re together. It was a mish-mash of stuff I didn’t like and it changed with you, but that doesn’t mean I like the ugly mess that it was. Things feel better with you, things feel...”
“Things feel more,” Sunset added, her voice distant.
“Yeah, exactly. And, uhm… I don’t know if I like how things felt before then. At least, not anymore. Maybe. I don’t know. It’s hard to put it into words. But...”
The emotions peckering Wallflower’s face took on a new note. A note that its owner couldn’t ever hope to see.
But there was another pair of eyes that could. Sunset was tainted, after all. Like a mote of dust stuck inside the layer of a painting, bulging out the dye. The slightly metallic taste from the water in the well. The licorice.
“Anything. Of course I'd do anything for us, Sunset.”
Of course she’d do anything.
Sunset gazed at her ring and Wallflower's, the little polished stones gleaming brightly under the moon's light, coming straight from the bathroom window. The stones didn’t quite fit the mold of the ring, but they looked beautiful nonetheless. They embellished the engraving.
She even had to take the rings back to Equestria to have the words written — it was not easy to write on pure metal and make it look unique… make it look theirs. Such a simple message, too.
‘To ensure we bloom forever more.’
Sunset managed to blink away the blurriness, praying her eyes wouldn’t betray her. Her stomach could clench and her heart could race all they wanted, as long as it didn’t show. Not now.
“So would I.” Sunset’s voice, at least, was steady.
They remained like that for some time, the clock being the last worry in their minds. Sharing their warmth despite the cold floor’s attempt to steal it away. The dripping of the facet being the only noise that mattered, and it didn’t even matter that much.
Wallflower was the one to break it with a quiet groan.
“Ugh, sitting like this is kinda killing my back. I should go to bed.” She slowly got up and stretched, a yawn sneaking its way to her. “I liked to talk, though. About us. We should… we should do it more.”
“Mhm.”
“You coming?”
“Be right there.”
Sunset watched Wallflower disappear behind the door with a dreamy smile. Then she grasped the pendant and gazed at the dozen little different reflections in it.
A dozen smiling Sunsets stared back. Not beaming, not grinning, not smirking. Just an easy, content smile.
The cord snapped.
The sun was shining in her green locks again.
Sunset always looked forward to it. Even through the misty, bleary eyes of someone who had not slept as much as they should, she could always count on waking up next to the angelic imagery of her beloved. The rays shimmering in the borders of frazzled green, caressing the strands as if the petals of a flower, starved for sunlight.
Just today, though, Sunset decided she would sleep a little while longer. The room was chilly, her covers were warm, and there was not a drop of sweat to be found.
With a quiet shuffle, Sunset fluffed up her pillow, cuddled up to Wallflower, and slept a dreamless sleep.
Author's Note
This story makes use of Flower Language. Each flower used bears some meaning behind it. Thanks to Gadot and Sledge for introducing this concept to me.
Went for a more conceptual approach in the prose, rather than lots of physical descriptions. I think it turned out okay? I can't properly romance for the life of me, but I quite liked writing these two's antics.
I might make a blog talking about the ideas behind this story (especially since I'd love to do another one exploring Wallflower's side of this more. I had to focus on Sunset for this, though). But only after the contest is all over.
Yes, Wallflower used a spoon to make pancakes. Sacrilege. If anyone wants the recipe... too bad, it's mine and I'm not sharing.
(I kid, I kid. It's a Fluffy Japanese Soufflé Pancake. It's really good.)
