Wallflower was very familiar with many flavors of pain.
Pain of isolation. Pain of loneliness. Pain of worthlessness and betrayals. These were old friends to her.
Not the kind of friends she longed for or ever wished would visit, but still ironically comforting in their familiarity. Pain was a hissing alley cat; dangerous, but safe in that she knew well how to read it, when to approach and when to back off. Most pain she knew how to deal with.
But this new flavor of gut-twisting anxiety —a pain borne of expectation— came wholly unfamiliar to her.
Her clammy hands clenched and slacked on their own as she paced her bedroom. Sunlight fought its way through closed blinds, but it was a pyrrhic victory, leaving the room cast in little more than a dim haze. Bright enough to avoid collisions, dark enough to hide the dust and clutter. She glanced at her phone again.
Zero new messages, five saved messages. No new texts.
No change from the last dozen times she'd checked. Not that there was much of a chance of a new message slipping by her constant vigilance, but still there was a chance and that was more than enough to feed the worry that gnawed on her.
She collapsed onto her bed with a thud of weathered blankets. Clutching a pillow to her chest, she peered over the edge at the phone, still traitorously silent of notifications.
Was there really nothing? No call, no text? Sunset had said 'soon' but how soon was soon? After school? Later tonight? Saturday? Sunday? Next week? What if she already sent a text but it got lost? That's a thing that could happen, right? If calls dropped, could texts vanish before they arrived?
Her foot beat an impatient staccato against the headboard, bleeding out nervous energy with an unsteady tempo.
Was Sunset sitting at home, even now, waiting for a reply from her?
No. No, Sunset wouldn't be sitting, waiting, pining. She wasn't the kind of person who had to worry about anything. If she was worried, she'd get up and act and do something. Solve the problem, fight the monster, tackle the issue head on and fix it.
Just one of the many reasons she was so perfect.
'I'll shoot you a message soon, see what plans look like for the weekend, maybe meet up, kay?'
The words, so casually spoken, played and replayed in her mind like a signal from space. Every inflection, every word choice dissected and studied and pressed for deeper meaning. To shoot her a message; a nebulous middle ground between the formality of 'I'll call you' and the casualness of 'I'll text'.
Plans for the weekend. What plans? She wasn't the kind of girl who did things. She wasn't even the kind that got invited to things. Well, that was a little better these days, but that just meant getting included in school-wide events. Her weekend had no plans. Nothing beyond tending the garden and listening to her saved voicemails again.
Maybe meet up. Her stomach flipped at the words that glowed red like hot embers. So much meaning held in three little words; a migraine of subtle context and intent. Meet up with who? That was the question that circled her thoughts and made strafing runs against her attempts at distractions. Had Sunset meant herself, Wallflower, and all the Rainbooms? They moved like a pack some days. Or maybe just a few of them, a couple did have part-time jobs. They couldn't all hang out all the time.
Or maybe, just maybe, she'd actually meant just... them. Sunset and Wallflower. Just the two. Together.
Her face burned and she pressed it into the pillow.
It wasn't beyond the realm of possibility. They'd spent time together one-on-one before. Back when the saint of a girl who put everybody else first had helped her clean up the mess she'd made meddling with magic. And the ice-cream after. That had helped, the simple gesture meaning more that she could convey.
But that was just a one-off thing. Or two-off. Sunset had also taken her to botanical gardens. And that retro diner. She really was the best sort of person. Giving up so much of her time to help a lonely screw-up put the pieces of a life back together. It was enough to make her worry she was taking advantage of Sunset's pity. Coasting on her goodwill and robbing the Rainbooms of time with their friend.
A heavy sense of guilt blossomed anew, so soon after she'd pruned the last ones away, as an ouroboros named Doubt started to eat its tail in her stomach.
It was so easy to slip back into those old dark thoughts like a well-trod path. Especially when they started to sound like sense.
'She obviously means meeting up with everybody, not just the two of us'
'She's just humoring me'
'She feels sorry for how damaged I am'
'I'm putting her out of her way'
'She resents me for bothering her'
'She'd be better if I just erased-'
The familiar opening notes of a Rainboom song snapped her depressive spiral. Her head popped up, spots clearing from her vision with a light feeling of wooziness. Maybe she'd been pressing her face into the pillow a little too tightly.
She stumbled as she launched off the bed, her phone dancing away from grasping fingertips. She caught it just as it was about to fall off the far edge of the desk, leaving the closer edge cutting painfully into her stomach.
Prize finally in hand, she flipped it open with a deft snap. "Hey Sunset, I..." Rehearsed lines died on her tongue.
It was a text, not a call.
Fiery embarrassment and gnawing anxiety warred for dominance before merging as an uncomfortable squirming feeling.
'Hey sorry for the late text.' It read. 'Band practice got away from me. Anyway, a local theater troupe's doing a show tomorrow and I've got an extra ticket so I was thinking maybe if you were free you might like to go with me? HMU when you get this'
Wallflower sighed and felt a fraction of tension leave her body. The worst was over, the message received. Now she just had to reply.
And what little stress had left was quickly replenished at the thought.
Texts were in some ways better than phone calls. For one thing she wasn't put on the spot to come up with good replies and could take all the time she needed to phrase herself exactly right so she didn't look childish or weird. At the same time though, texts made it so much easier to stew over her words for so long that she sometimes never ended up replying at all.
But that was the old Wallflower. The one who hadn't yet nearly erased herself from existence in a cascading failure of self-pity. If she was ever going to improve herself like Sunset was always trying to help her do, then it had to start here. With this text. With being decisive.
'What play are they doing?' That was a reasonable question, right? The kind of thing a person with working social skills would ask. She cursed under her breath a split second after hitting send. Performing, she should have said 'performing', not 'doing'. That would have made it so much clearer.
The trill of a reply was so quick it startled her.
'haha lol sorry. It's little shop of horrors.'
She knew that one. Vaguely. Something about a singing plant? But it was a musical, so everyone would probably be singing. She was okay with that so long as there was no audience participation. She typed a reply before her nerves could freeze her fingers again.
'sounds good. I'd love to'
She cringed the moment after it sent. Way way too strong. Should have been a reluctant acceptance, Sunset had even worded it to give her every possible out if she wanted it.
Three dots pulsed on the screen, followed quickly by another message.
'Great! :) and I was thinking maybe we could get something to eat after? Fellini's maybe?'
The name rang a bell. Italian place near the mall. Not expensive, but a couple of steps up from fast food. She'd eaten there with her family once; a distant uncle's retirement party or something. She glanced down to see she'd already replied.
'That sounds good too'
'Great! It's a date then'
Wallflower's heart surged at the words, but she was quick to beat it back into line. There would be no foolish ideas like that slipping in to make her mess up her first good relationship in years. Even hoping for anything beyond mere friendship was a dangerous fantasy.
As much as she wished otherwise.
The wheres and whens were quickly hashed out in a rapid flurry of texts before both ran out of words to say and ended the conversation. Wallflower sank back onto her bed, drained.
It wasn't easy. Putting herself out there. Talking to people. Everything. But being around Sunset (even by proxy through a phone) always made it a little easier to take that next step. And if Sunset was willing to invest so much to try and make her a functioning member of society again, then it was the least she could do to try and meet her halfway.
Dinner and a show as a tagalong to the Rainbooms was a good proving ground.
~~~
Sunset beamed as she closed the messenger app and looked up at her friends' expectant faces.
"She said yes!"
Cheers erupted from the gathered group of highschoolers, punctuated by the sounds of soda cans cracking open.
“Congrats Sunset,” Rainbow Dash grinned. “I always knew you had it in you.”
“I’m more surprised she needed this much prodding to just go ahead and do it.” Applejack shook her head as she poured her soda drink over ice. Dash held her hand out expectantly. Applejack rolled her eyes and passed her a red plastic cup as well. “Lotta hoopla just to send a text.”
“Hey, if she says she needs the support, I ain’t gonna turn her down. Plus,” Dash stuffed a handful of chips into her mouth. “Free food.”
“Woohoo!” Pinkie cried as she hung, upside-down, from the loft railing. “Operation Sunset’s-Fourth-Date-With-Wallflower is a go!”
“Technically her third date, darling,” Rarity corrected. “While their little tryst to the ice cream parlor was certainly adorable, it cannot be counted for the tally since the relationship was not yet official at that point. They’d only just met, then, memory issues nonwithstanding.”
“Third, fourth, who’s counting? Our little Sunny’s finally growing up.” Pinkie dabbed a hanky to her teary eyes before blowing her nose into it loud enough to wake the dead. Sunset winced even as she grinned.
“Easy Pinkie, don’t forget that unlike some people, I have neighbors.”
“You’re just fine!” A scratchy voice warbled through the paper thin walls with surprising clarity. “Smokey lost his hearing aid again an’ I’m just as happy to hear it as your friends are! You go make an honest man of that Wallflower boy, y’hear?”
“Thanks Mrs. C.”
The smile that graced Sunset’s face was one borne of relief, but raised in uneasiness. As much as the support of her friends buoyed her spirits, her neighbor’s words tugged a buried concern back to the surface.
Because, despite her well-meaning but slightly antiquated neighbor’s assumption, Wallflower was not a boy. She was a girl.
A wonderful girl.
Quiet, yes. Shy, more than a little. But underneath those introverted layers that she wore like armor there was a genuinely kind and caring person. One filled with honest passions and a vibrant and vivacious personality. You just had to get to know her.
The trouble with getting to know someone well, was that it sometimes led to developing feelings for them. Strange new feelings that fluttered at the edge of definition like butterflies in a fog. Feelings which, once shared in confidence with her friends, unlocked the social labyrinth that was dating.
Dating was as much a foreign country to Sunset as the human dimension had been. She'd never bothered with it while under Celestia's tutelage (such a waste of time that could be spent learning new spells) and her few 'boyfriends' on the human side of things had been less romantic and more easy sources of free food and social clout. None of their freshman personalities had had the strength of will to stand up to her hurricane of a temperment and make a move of their own.
Now that she was serious, it only made things more awkward that human and pony courting customs had evolved along very different paths with only a few shared traditions. She still cringed when she thought back to her first months on two legs when she'd tried to entice a boy by nipping at his ear. That was a lesson she'd learned from quickly (and a video she hoped would never resurface).
She had always been a quick study, but it was never easy being plunged unexpectedly into unfamiliar waters. Dating not only a human and a girl, but with genuine romantic intentions.
Luckily, she had a group of very invested friends to help her steer the ship to safe harbor.
Thus, tonight's little get together.
"You're probably going to have to take things up a notch on this one." Rainbow Dash's words cut through Sunset's musing and brought her back to the present. "Fourth date's a big deal."
"Third," Rarity corrected.
"Could be fifth if you count destroying the Memory Stone together as a date," Pinkie added.
"We do not."
Rainbow Dash put up her hands in defeat. "Fine, third, whatever. Still important."
Concern dampened Sunset's good mood. The last thing she needed was another unexpected dating convention. It was a small consolation that she was at least learning about it now rather than later. "Why is the third date such a big deal?"
"Cause it means you're really serious." Rainbow Dash knocked back the last of her drink as she held up one finger on the other hand. "First date's just, y'know, whatever. Getting to know each other." A second finger joined the first. "Second date means there's some interest going both ways, maybe you've got some stuff you both like, but you still could just be friends or even break it off." Three fingers, partnered with a wiggly eyebrow. "Third date's when you start making for one of the bases."
"Rainbow Dash!" Rarity gasped before looking around to cover Fluttershy's ears, momentarily forgetting that that girl was not present. Finding a lack of innocence to protect, her eyes narrowed suspiciously at the girl who usually refused to watch any movie with a positive kiss-to-explosion ratio. "Since when are you such an expert on the delicacies of romance?"
"I've been with a few guys from the track and soccer teams," she replied, her grin salacious. "Best way to scout the competition is to get to know them when they're nice and vulnerable."
"Bases?" Sunset prompted, hoping the question might steer the conversation back in a productive direction. The saga of Rainbow Dash's athletic espionage adventures was rather low on the list of topics she wanted to know the dirty details of.
"She means, ah, intimacy, darling," Rarity clarified with a light blush. "Physically speaking."
"I mean getting handsy. Ow!" Rainbow Dash winced as Applejack delivered an admonishing cuff. "Alright, I'll quit it. Just keep your hands off me." A smirk slipped past her apologetic mask. "Unless you're trying to reach a base or two yourself?"
The second blow and subsequent dodge quickly devolved into an impromptu chase through Sunset's apartment, egged on by Pinkie from above. But their whole vaudevillain routine went right over Sunset's head as she stared at nothing, her mind going a mile a minute.
She'd seen movies. She knew all about all the kinds of inventive things humans like to do to one another. Though, somehow, she'd never imagined herself as a participant. The scenario blossomed to life in her mind before she could stop it. Wallflower, leaning against her on a couch, dressed in an imagination-warped version of her sweater far too tight and low-cut for the real one to ever consider wearing. The green-skinned girl's face turning towards hers, dim light from a tv set catching the lowlights of her hair and casting her features in sharp relief. Her hazel eyes closing, lips puckering as she leaned in for-
The fantasy shattered as Sunset felt someone touch her in the real world. She quickly came to her senses, face flushed and heart pounding.
"Don't listen to her." Rarity's hand drifted from her arm to her shoulder, turning her away as if to shield her from the still snickering sportswoman. "The etiquette of relationships isn't nearly so rigid. You and Wallflower should take things at your own pace." She placed a finger to her chin in thought. "Though I suppose she's not wrong that the seriousness of the relationship rises with each new date. Which, in due time, naturally leads to intimacy." She shook her head. "But given Wallflower's... disposition, I can't imagine she'd be prepared for so much as a chaste kiss yet, let alone anything more serious."
Sunset let out a small sigh of relief. As much as Wallflower had charmed her, she wasn't sure she was ready to reciprocate anything of that sort. At least, not yet. The memory of the fantasy drifted back, once more coloring her cheeks.
"Thanks," she said, "But she does have a point. If I'm going to do this properly, I have to find some way to show her how serious I am." If this were Equestria and Wallflower a stallion, it wouldn't be out of line to give him a basket of gemstones. Not that that would fly on Earth, where gems so small they'd be little more than filler were valued as much as a car. She had no interest in spooking the girl away by going too hard, too fast. Wallflower was like an injured bird. Hurt, but wary of anyone getting too close. She just needed to figure out the right approach.
Much to her surprise, Wallflower found herself to be a fan of musicals. Or at least this particular one. The songs were catchy, in the sort of style she recognized from her dad's old records, and the premise was interesting.
It was hard to go wrong with a story about plant care.
And there was something about the Seymour character that struck an odd chord in her. She couldn't help but compare his situation to where she'd been a few weeks before. Lonely. Forgettable. The human personification of a doormat. Wishing his life could improve but feeling powerless to do anything about it.
She hoped he'd have a happy ending when all was said and done.
She glanced to her right as the female lead started a new song about somewhere that was green.
There was Sunset.
Just Sunset.
No Rainbooms, none of her other friends. Just Sunset.
She'd nearly had a panic attack when she'd seen the girl waiting for her at the box office alone. Not in weeks had she so wanted to have the Memory Stone back so she could avoid a confrontation. But Sunset's sheer presence was galvanizing enough to embolden her to act and go talk to the person waiting for her.
Her other friends had all cancelled. Family issues, conflicting activities, last-minute shift changes. One by one dropping out and leaving just two would-be thespians left.
The surge of glee she felt at having more one-on-one time with Sunset was enough to buoy her through the claustrophobic crowds, an awkward exchange with Sandalwood at the concession counter, and all the way to her seat in the darkened theater. She could almost imagine it was a date.
She was immensely glad that she'd decided to dress up a little, as she was pretty sure you were supposed to when attending the theater. Nothing fancy, just one of her nicer sweaters and a long skirt. Sunset was also a little fancier than usual in a dress and jacket combo, but that was probably just for the sake of the restaurant later.
Wallflower shivered as a cold breeze ran down the back of her neck and a countercurrent swirled around her ankles. The thick skirt had been an excellent choice, as whether from a faulty system or for the sake of the performers, the theater's AC was operating somewhere between maximum and overclocked.
Sunset didn't even seem to notice. No doubt her warm personality was enough to heat her up from the inside.
~~~
Sunset discovered, much to her surprise, that she was not a fan of musicals. While the story was fun and the acting was good, being a musician herself she couldn't help but notice every minor flaw in the otherwise excellent singing which made them stand out all the more distractingly. At least the orchestra helped distract her from it.
More distracting though was the thunderhead of worry that continued to cloud her mind.
Here she was. On her date. Her third date. The date when, according to Rainbow Dash's expert opinion, she was supposed to take things to some unspecific 'next level'. Definitely not the kind of next level Dash had elaborated upon later, but something nonetheless.
The only question was what. What was a grand enough gesture to prove her intent that wasn't too big? Should she even do anything at all? The notion of who was supposed to make the first move became muddled when there were two girls involved. Wallflower didn't seem keen to take initiative, but maybe waiting for her to do so would be for the best? That would guarantee they take things at her pace.
She pulled her gaze from the stage to check on her date and immediately wished she'd done so earlier. The poor girl was shivering! Outright shaking from the cold. Yet she hadn't said a word, only continuing to watch the stage with rapt attention. Sunset felt her stomach drop out. Here she was, musing away on how to impress her date while the girl in question was freezing from neglect.
Her previous plan she immediately abandoned. It didn't matter how her next gesture was taken or even if she was in the right to do it. From a purely friendship based standpoint, the choice was obvious and her need clear.
~~~
"Here."
Wallflower glanced down from the stage in surprise.
Sunset, bare-shouldered now, passed her jacket over the armrest and around their drinks. She took it without question. How thoughtful of her. Once again, the girl who came prepared gave freely to the girl who failed to plan ahead.
"Thanks."
She pulled it over herself backwards, like a blanket. It was still warm from the taller girl's body heat and she could smell her shampoo on the collar.
A small 'aww' came from the people in the seat behind her. Wallflower agreed. The talking plant on-stage was indeed adorable.
Fellini's was decently full on a Saturday night. Sunset had made reservations, so they were promptly led to a small table near the back to be seated. The place had a warm and inviting atmosphere, though Wallflower couldn't help but notice that it seemed to serve a very particular clientele. Every other table had a boy and a girl staring longingly into each other's eyes, or sharing an oversized plate of spaghetti, or just laughing at small inside jokes.
A touch of awkward anxiety flared in her stomach at being part of the only non-couple there.
Drinks were ordered swiftly (water for her, sparkling for Sunset) and Wallflower once again found herself trapped in the land of smalltalk, where embarrassment lurked around every corner. At least she was with one of the few people he knew would forgive any awkwardness.
"So," Sunset began, "What'd you think of the play?"
Deep breath. In. Out. Think. Speak clearly. "I liked it." She hoped her hesitation before talking hadn't lasted too long. "The music was good and Audrey II was kinda cute."
Sunset gave her a look she couldn't decipher. She quickly continued on before anyone could dwell on whatever had been weird with what she'd said. "And the set! The sets were also very pretty." Wallflower took a deep breath. No need to flail, it's only Sunset. "I wasn't expecting that ending though."
Sunset nodded, her wavy hair bobbing with the motion. "Me too. I read in the playbill that there's actually a couple different versions. There's another ending where Seymour and Audrey escape and Audrey II is crushed by a collapsing building."
"Oh." Wallflower wasn't sure what she thought about that. On one hand, that saved the world, but at the cost of such a beautiful and interesting plant. "Is there a version where Audrey II and the humans make up and learn to live together?" That'd be nice. Harmony between plants and people.
"I don't think so." Sunset took a sip of her water, but put it down quickly as her eyes widened with a realization. "Hey, if it doesn't exist, maybe you could write it."
"Oh no, not me." Her reply was almost a reflex. "I couldn't."
"Why not?"
Why not indeed? Would it hurt to be honest? It was Sunset. If anyone deserved her honesty it was her. Still Wallflower squirmed in her seat as the truth struggled to make its way out. "I've never been very good with... words and... stuff." Case in point.
"I'm sure you're better than you think." More supportive words, coming out of nowhere like a strike to her psyche. "You wrote all the descriptions for the yearbook, didn't you? Some of those were really clever."
She remembered. It wasn't even something big; just a side task out of everything else the yearbook required, and yet Sunset had remembered it anyway. Her heart warmed in her chest and the instinctive impulse to deny any skill or ability died back a little.
"I guess. Maybe I could... give it a try?" It was a lame offer, but a more solid commitment that she'd made to another person in a long time.
"That's great!" Sunset's smile lit up the room. "I can't wait to read it."
She risked a small smile. She hadn't expected to commit to anything tonight, but it felt okay to do so. Another step in the right direction. Now that the ice was broken, dinner could continue without that heavy weight on her shoulders.
~~~
Sunset was torn.
Her dinner date was going... well? Maybe? She was having a harder time than usual reading her green-skinned girlfriend. She seemed to like the play and her move with the jacket had gone over well, yet the girl still was acting more withdrawn than usual.
A dark concern bubbled away in the back of her mind, that Wallflower was waiting. Waiting for her to do something. Whatever dating custom was supposed to solidify their relationship of multiple dates.
The worry was affecting her ability to make smalltalk and she could tell. Pauses hung a little too long. Topic shifts were far from smooth. Wallflower, rank authority on people-watching, no doubt noticed it too. What if she was concerned that Sunset might be having second thoughts? That she wasn't equally invested in the relationship?
It was maddening. To wonder and worry with no way of knowing.
Except... she did have a way of knowing. A way to know exactly what her girlfriend thought and exactly what she needed to do. All it would take was a touch.
And a grievous breach of privacy, but what was a little mind-reading between girlfriends?
An idea came to her as she watched Wallflower's hand wave around, miming out the actions to accompany a story about some invasive groundcover in her garden she'd had a dramatic battle against. There was one easy way to touch her girlfriend and test the waters of intimacy at the same time.
"Wallflower."
She stopped mid-sentence, her eyes shifting back down to meet Sunset's own. Sunset saw surprised confusion there, tempered by interest. Ease her into the offer. Don't push.
"Would it be alright if I held your hand?"
A simple little gesture. The meagerest form of intimacy. But it was somewhere to start.
Wallflower had gone very still, and all the more Sunset wished to know exactly what was going on in her head. Was even this too much, too fast for her?
"...okay."
It was so quiet she nearly missed it, but Wallflower's squeaked reply was not lost.
Shimmying her chair a bit to get closer, Sunset slipped her hand into Wallflower's. It was clammy, and a little more calloused than she'd expected. Probably from spending so much time working in the dirt. And, as always, she could immediately feel the weft. The thin barrier that separated Wallflower's mind from her own. All it needed was the lightest twitch of magic for her to push past and plumb the depths of the mind of the girl who refused to speak it herself.
Normally, she wouldn't. But normally Sunset wasn't so preoccupied over someone's mental state and whether she was feeling pressured.
A little peek couldn't hurt.
The weft parted like a curtain of silk and Sunset slipped in. She expected nervousness, maybe some worry. But what she found left her cold.
Wallflower didn't think they were dating.
But she wanted it. Wanted it so bad the feeling reached from the depths of her mind all the way up to brush the level of her surface thoughts where Sunset skimmed. She was nervous, yes, but of her own actions. Nervous that she'd accidentally let her true feelings slip and drive Sunset off even from a friendship. It was enough to make the mindreader freeze up.
And to think, she'd had the arrogance to think herself the empathetic one of her friends while meanwhile something as monumental as this had flown right under her radar.
She retreated from Wallflower's mind, but left her hand clutched in the other girl's. Only a moment of real time had passed. Wallflower was blushing like a firetruck and totally failing to hide it by turning her head.
What was she to do? What words could even come close to clearing up such a massive miscommunication?
"Pardon me, ladies. Are you ready to order?" The arrival of their waiter snapped her back to reality.
Actually, there was a word. A single word that would bring everybody on to the same page.
"Yeah, I think my girlfriend and I are ready."
The hand in hers tensed suddenly, tightening like a vice. Sunset monitored her out the corner of her eye. Wallflower blushed, paled, then returned to a burning crimson. So many emotions blurred through her face that they merged into some strange convulsion, before she went totally blank.
And then, slowly, she smiled. The widest smile Sunset had ever seen on her.
"Yes," Wallflower said, quietly but with astounding conviction. "I think we are."
