“...stars are dying all the time. Some explode. Some collapse and cave in on themselves. Those ones become black holes. Others get sucked up inside of them just for getting too close. Guilty by association. Prosecuted for proximity.”
― Kris Kidd
BLACK HOLE
In the endless expanse of black nothingness, Sunset Shimmer existed.
She stood, unable to process anything. There was nothing to process, only words that had been spoken to her. Words that might have been of importance. They now simply occupied space inside Sunset Shimmer’s mind. Not a reason to feel forlorn or an excuse to start sobbing. Instead, she allowed herself to stay still and think. Really think about what she had just heard.
They wouldn’t even tell her where or why. That voice on the phone simply offered empty apologies and asked if they had been close.
She had hung up, of course.
Through some kind of autonomy, however, she was able to find herself at the hospital. Incidentally, she had been the first to show up, though she could not for the life of her remember ever getting on her motorcycle in the first place. She knew it must have happened; her red and gold hair was messed up in the way only a helmet would cause.
Sunset Shimmer stood among a handful of individuals. Their faces seemed to melt away as she stared at that bleak, white wall. The sniffles and uncomfortable silence which filled the small waiting room were the only things keeping her tethered to the circumstances.
It was ironic how much people seemed to care once it didn’t matter anymore.
Through the murky reality, Sunset had learned to retreat to that empty space in her mind. It was safe there. She existed there, simply eager to block out everything. It wouldn’t be happening if she didn’t pay attention to it, right?
It almost worked, though Sunset couldn’t say exactly where she had gone during her trip in her own subconscious. The only thing she could say for sure was that her physical form stayed in the waiting room, though waiting for what? She was soon to find out as a uniformed paramedic broke the monotony of the room with a heavy footstep.
“Sunset Shimmer?” the uniform-clad man’s silence-ruining voice called out. It was far from a yell and was really barely louder than a whisper, but it served to make Sunset jump.
Recovering from being thrust back into reality, Sunset turned to the officer. “Yeah?” she responded, her voice barely showing any sort of emotion.
“We’d like to speak to you now.”
All she could do was nod numbly as she followed the man to the private room. Her feet fell onto the buffed tile, but the feeling didn’t register as she took a seat in the room. It wasn’t until the paramedic offered her a paper cup full of water that Sunset realized just how much she wished she wasn’t in that room.
I wasn’t supposed to end up here like this.
An outstretched hand took the cup. Sunset barely recognized it as her own body. With a frown, she glanced down at it. Her reflection stared back, shaking and transforming into something else entirely as the water rippled. Sunset gulped dryly and drank the water like a shot, letting the almost-choking sensation bring her back into the moment.
The man, who Sunset noticed was named Bronze Honour thanks to that telling name badge on his chest, cleared his throat and brought the pitcher of water to the table. Sunset greedily poured herself another cup as Bronze took a seat across from her. “She didn’t make it,” he started.
Sunset looked at him. She already knew that.
“They said that the funeral home has been contacted. They’ll be around shortly. The surgery went as well as it could have, but…” he inhaled sharply, rubbing two gloved fingers on his temple.
Every molecule in Sunset’s body froze. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Her family said you would like to know.” Bronze furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head. “They have to go to work before the body is transported.”
The body.
Sunset scoffed, folding her arms over her chest. “Motherfuckers…”
Breaking the professional demeanour that he had been holding for the past few minutes, Bronze leaned forward. His face twitched a bit before he spoke. “You were her partner, right?”
Were.
She nodded.
“They wanted to release the permission to transport her body to you. That means you’d have to sign off on the papers.”
“Is that even legal?”
“Someone has to do it. As long as they gave permission and I can testify to that, then technically yes.”
Sunset sighed. She still wasn’t all too familiar with human laws, but who was she to argue? “Alright.”
Bronze carefully reached across and put a hand on Sunset's shoulder. "I'm really sorry. I know that means nothing, but I wish you didn't have to go through this."
"Yeah," she huffed. "Me too."
They came rather quickly. Manehattan left nothing to be desired. At least, that’s what Rarity always said.
The people with nice clothes came and took Wallflower. Or, that’s what they said. For all Sunset knew, that could have been something else entirely. There was a white tarp covering her, and no real way to tell. In an incredibly morbid moment of curiosity, Sunset wondered what her girlfriend might have looked like.
Suppressing a deep groan, Sunset pulled out her phone and opened her contacts app. She stared blankly at the name framing the top of the list in her favourites, before scrolling past it with a stomach-churning pit in her stomach and pressed dial on the name she searched for.
The line rang a few times before the too-familiar click of voicemail deafened the world around Sunset. "You've reached Daisy Bell. I m not at the phone right now. Please leave a message with your phone number and I will call you ba—”
She hung up.
Wallflower’s mother did not deserve to hear her voice. Sunset shook as she jabbed the button meant for texting, barely able to hit it through her quivering.
Me
They got her.
“Fuck,” Sunset whispered, holding a fist to her forehead. “Why the fuck do you not care about your daughter?!”
Her eyes clenched shut. She was in the void again. Tears stung behind her eyes, but she kept them down. Crying made it real.
“I’m so sorry for your loss.”
Five words.
They were five simple words.
Sunset never wanted to hear them again.
It had to have been the twentieth time she heard those five words that day. Palming her plastic cup anxiously, Sunset let her eyes glaze over the room. There were not that many people, but in the small room, it seemed jam-packed.
People all clad in black, shedding crocodile tears, pretending to care. People simply going through the motions, feigning love, giving off the illusion that they ever once gave a shit.
If you cared, she wouldn’t be here right now.
She scowled and let her eyes move from the cluster of people in front of the closed casket. They were not the worst offenders. No, holding that title were the two people Sunset hated most in the world. Perhaps the only two people who could have prevented all this.
She looked at Daisy Bell and her husband Mossy Stone.
She glared at her girlfriend’s perpetrators. The people who never cared. The ones who neglected her and let her drive herself to this.
Sunset Shimmer glowered. Red hot anger burned her up. Why couldn’t they at least pretend to care now?
Lukewarm juice spilled all over her hands as her cup crumbled in her grip. The offensive purple liquid fell on the ground and splashed on her pants. At least it couldn’t stain her black pants.
Grape juice was always Wallflower’s favourite.
Sunset stared blankly at the image of Wallflower, framed neatly in a large format.
She was the one who took that picture at the lake. Wallflower’s smile expanded from ear to ear, radiating pure bliss. The sun shone on her face, giving her skin warmth and brightness that it didn’t usually have.
But that was not the Wallflower that Sunset thought of at the funeral. How could it be?
The Wallflower in her head was broken. Tears streaking down her face. Panting, shivering breaths, desperately trying to fix the balance of oxygen. The Wallflower that Sunset often held in her arms, brushing tears away, running fingers through messy, uncombed, tangled hair. The Wallflower she often had to patch up both physically and emotionally. The Wallflower she had to reassure and talk down and comfort. The Wallflower she had to love because no one else would.
No. She didn’t have to love her. She just did. The only people who had to love her were her parents, and they couldn’t even manage that. And then Wallflower was gone. Her body, however mangled, was in that casket. But Wallflower was gone.
Sunset clenched her sticky hand. There was someone talking. She wasn’t sure what was being said but decided that it didn’t matter. There was nothing anyone could say that would bring her back. Nothing at all.
Another hand fell on Sunset’s and she looked over to see Rarity, followed closely by the rest of her friends. They all gave her a pitiful smile, which she did not return. Instead, she just dipped her head in acknowledgement and set her eyes back on that perfidious image of her girlfriend.
The world around her closed in on itself until it became simply a black blur around the frame. Sunset looked at it and remembered. She remembered the love, she remembered the ducks and the swans. But most of all, she remembered that fake smile. The smile that Wallflower often wore. The smile that nobody seemed to know how to read.
It was all on display, right there in that fancy, engraved frame that Wallflower would have despised. The smile that fibbed. The smile that told everyone she was fine.
The smile that no one listened to.
Sunset hated that picture.
It became her world in the black void.
And she hated it.
The closing remarks were nothing… remarkable. Sunset herself had gone up to say a few words, but she couldn’t even remember what she had said. She knew she did. Her throat was hoarse. Maybe she had cried? It sure felt like it, at least, but her cheeks didn’t feel wet.
Whatever she had said, it was probably something generic about missing her, about Wallflower having been the light in her life, about how sad it was to see that light go out. She probably talked about how she was too young and full of hopes and aspirations. Another young life taken by tragedy. A death that could have been prevented. Some stupid shit like that.
What she definitely hadn’t said was that the very people in that room had failed her. The prevention could have started with them, if only they bothered to cast a second glance at her daughter. Wallflower was not full of hope; she needed a support system. Her life was not taken, she was the one that took it.
And it could have—would have been prevented if only someone saw the signs. If only someone had cared about Wallflower like Sunset had.
But then… if Sunset cared, then why wasn’t that enough?
There was only so much Sunset could do.
They had the coffin next to the dug grave. She didn’t even know that there was even more scripture to be read, but as the priest read it, she knew that Wallflower would have scoffed and rolled her eyes.
The plot itself wasn’t anything special. Just another grave among graves. Even the coffin looked dime a dozen. Sunset glowered at the closed coffin, staring at her own reflection in the reddish, shiny, lacquered wood. Painted on her face was something beyond hurt. Beyond anger. She looked at the coffin, letting the priest’s empty, scripted words flow past her. In there was Wallflower. Her girlfriend. Was she even her girlfriend anymore? Could she call someone who was… gone her girlfriend?
She shook her head and shut her eyes, trying to do what the people around her did. Everyone else had their heads bowed with shut eyes, but through the Father’s hushed praying, she stared. Despite herself, Sunset’s eyes slid open and glanced around helplessly. Sunset listened, not to his words, but to what was happening around her.
Birds chirped. A soft breeze blew through the surrounding trees. Blossoms bloomed on the leaves, decorating the area with their floral beauty and scent. It was sickening. Sunset wished it had been cloudy, or raining, or sleeting. She wished that the sky would weep for Wallflower like in all the stories she’d read. But it seemed that not even nature cared for her. In the end, it was always her.
A raw cry formed in the bottom of Sunset’s throat, forming a ball to tie her oesophagus together. The only thing that managed to escape was a choked whimper. A whine, one not unlike the whimper of a puppy. Sunset pursed her lips together, pushing the emotion back down. She would not cry. Wallflower wouldn’t want her to cry. Not again.
With the keyword, the priest finished off his scripture, closing the book in hand gently and stepping to the side, moving his hand overtop the coffin in a way that Sunset had seen other humans do before. The priest muttered something under his breath and bowed his head, then stepped completely out of the way.
Turquoise eyes followed him, then flicked back to the coffin. There was a still, eerie silence for a moment. Somber in nature, completely juxtaposed by the cheeriness of the world around it.
Sunset learned that even the brightest of landscapes can be darkened by funeral blacks.
The world kept still as the coffin was lowered into the ground.
A ceremony seemed like a stupid thing to have after a funeral. It was like a sad party. An actual pity party, but it would be rude not to attend. Would Wallflower have wanted a reception? Probably not, but did it matter?
Sunset sighed and rubbed her cheek. Her hand still smelled faintly of grape juice, and she wondered if there was any left. She had made sure to get the brand that Wallflower liked, just so she could share one last drink with her girlfriend.
With a calm hand gesture, Sunset excused herself from the conversation she wasn’t listening to and made her way to the refreshment table. She caught a glimpse of a frown from Applejack but decided to pay no heed to it. The venue itself wasn’t very large, but was definitely large enough to hold the attendants. Not that there were many. After bracing herself against the table, Sunset felt her entire body go numb. Pins and needles traversed down her like the strongest chill of the Antarctic. It was a burning type of cold.
She just needed something to drink. And maybe something to eat. An unsteady hand poured the last of the grape juice into a cup, while the other reached for a mini croissant. It was the type of food she’d imagine eating at a grade school movie party. Not… funeral food.
The entire day had passed in a blur. Only bits and pieces processed, while the rest was just a void of memory. She took a drink from the plastic cup, but the flavour was muted. Dimmed, just like everything seemed to be.
And then, someone else entered her world.
“Sunset.”
She hated that voice. Sunset turned around and grimaced at Daisy Bell, clad in her finest black clothes. She even had the audacity to look sad. She couldn’t look sad. She failed. Sunset gripped the bread in her hand until it molded to the shape of her wrist. “Yes?”
The way that Daisy stood might have convinced Sunset that she was actually sad to lose her daughter if it wasn’t for the fact that she didn’t seem like she actually cared. But still, her hunched posture and glistening cheeks matched by her red-tinged eyes doing everything to avert her gaze away from Sunset’s attacking eyes almost made her look… pitiful. She held a little box to her chest—a simple cardboard one with no markings on it—and clutched it to her chest.
It almost seemed like she didn’t want to talk, but before Sunset could turn back around, Daisy heaved a sigh and looked back at Sunset. “Wallflower, she… was always really interested in plants,” she started with a meek voice that made Sunset want to growl.
Duh.
“I wish I had been more interested in her hobbies,” Daisy continued, “but… I never had much of a green thumb.”
“What’s your point? You feel bad that you didn’t give enough of a shit about your daughter?”
Daisy cringed, but the hurt in Sunset’s voice seemed to have just made her feel guilty. “Yes, to be honest. I really do care about her. Me and Mossy both. And her sister of course. He was always more of the gardener type, but his job kept him from home a lot. I guess we just weren’t very good at showing it,” she admitted. “You know, Wallflower and Mossy would always garden together when she was little.” She smiled a little bit, her eyes looking down at a distant memory. “But when he took that job, they drifted a lot. I… I tried to be there for her, but we never really clicked. I guess I didn’t realize how much that affected her.”
Sunset trembled, clenching her jaw so hard she was surprised her teeth didn’t all shatter. “You didn’t realize?” Her voice came out sharp and raw. It stung her throat to say it. “How did you not realize? Wallflower was depressed! She had a therapist! She had medication, and she was always so so sad! How could you not realize that your own daughter needed your love! She’s tried to… t-to do this before. Why didn’t it click?”
The world came back into focus as the room became deadly silent. Daisy’s lip trembled as revealing tears slowly streamed down her face. Sunset wiped her own cheeks, feeling the return of scalding hot, angry sadness. The woman’s arms shook as she placed the box in her hands on the table.
“She stopped caring for her plants,” Daisy rasped. “All of them except that one. I think she named it after you. I heard her talking to it a few times. I tried to take care of it but… well, I’m not very good at that and Mossy just… doesn’t want to interfere with her things.” Her eyes drifted back up to meet Sunset’s and the anger in Sunset’s body vanished as she realized that Wallflower had the same eyes as her mother, at least right there. Full of silent pain. “She would want you to have it Sunset. Please take care of it.”
Before Sunset could even think of anything to say at her blatant change of subject, Daisy patted her on the shoulder and turned back, making her way back to her husband and the small group of somber-looking people he was with. Sunset simply looked on, filled with an emotion she couldn’t even place, then let her attention drift to the little box. Barely gripping hands set down her food on the table before picking up the plain box. She lifted the flap and looked inside.
There was a little cactus in the box, though it was browning a bit and the flower on its peak seemed like it was wilting. Carefully, Sunset took out the spikey succulent and inspected it. There was something wrong with it, but she didn’t quite know what.
Wallflower would know.
That was a moot point.
Sunset downed the last of her juice, not feeling hungry anymore, and dropped the croissant in a nearby garbage can. With the potted cactus in hand, she made her way to the exit, leaving the building all the while ignoring her friends’ calls to her.
Sunset went to school for the month after Wallflower’s funeral, though to say she remembered any of it may have been an exaggeration. She was there, in person, but when she left her room, everything was a blur. All the questions people asked. The comments, the remarks, the empty apologies and condolences she thought she had left behind at the funeral. It had all happened, she was sure, but Sunset remembered none of it.
The new cactus on her desk had been successfully restored once Sunset figured out what was wrong with it. Turned out to be overwatering. She chuckled a bit at the memory. Had Daisy been overcompensating by giving too much attention to the cactus?
Figures she’d fuck it up anyway. Wallflower needed the attention and didn’t get it, then she gave the cactus too much.
The sharpened pencil in Sunset’s hand scribbled across the paper, writing down words and answers to questions she didn’t remember reading. It didn’t matter if they were right, she just needed to hand something in.
The gnawing, growing, aching hole in her chest only grew whenever she thought about school. School, or… anyplace, really. Most places had good memories. Well, memories that were once good, filled with the smiling face of an eager Wallflower Blush. A Wallflower Blush who swore she was getting better, who promised to talk to Sunset.
A Wallflower Blush who now rested six feet underground in some shitty cemetary that nobody visited.
Nobody except Sunset. That seemed to be a pattern.
The deathly silent air was broken with a sharp snap as Sunset’s pencil dragged painfully on the page. A look down revealed what she had already figured out. The tip broke, and graphite smudged on the page. Bits and fragments of scattered pencil lead littered the page.
It didn’t matter anymore anyway. Though a lot of that night was sent to be forcibly repressed, Sunset remembered one fact as clear as day. Technically, Wallflower had broken up with her. For all intents and purposes, no matter what…
“She’s not my girlfriend.”
For the first time since the funeral, Sunset felt something hot and wet slide down her cheek. Accompanying it were more and more burning tears. It physically hurt to expel the pent up emotion, the reminder that Wallflower wouldn’t want her to cry about it.
That only served to make her cry more.
“I cared so much about you,” Sunset pleaded to nobody. “I cared about you so much Wally. I loved you. I s-still do.” She hiccuped as her hands shook, forcing her to drop the pencil. “I wish you had t-talked to me like you promised. But now you’re gone! And I couldn’t h-help!”
Sunset cried out to the heavens. She wasn’t sure if anyone was listening. “Why would you do this to me, Wally? Why would you do this to y-yourself? I thought you were getting b-better! What happened?”
Images of the note Wallflower had left behind flashed in her head. She had read it over and over so many times she practically had it committed to memory, even after she had angrily torn it up one night. “You called yourself selfish? Well, y-you are! You took the easy f-fucking way out and you left me to pick up the pieces.
“Why couldn’t you see that I cared? Was it not enough?” Sunset dug her nails into her palms as she punched the wall next to her desk. The pain made her wince, but it kept her planted. “I’m sorry, Wally… I just… I want…” Her throat ached as she wracked with sobs, but Sunset felt as though she was watching herself instead.
She couldn’t stop herself as a shaking arm reached for her phone. As if on instinct, Sunset’s fingers brought her to Wallflower’s contact. She hit dial.
Ring. Ring.
With every ring, Sunset’s crying grew more hysterical. The dam burst, and the flood coming out of her felt like it wouldn’t stop.
Ring. Ring.
Sunset’s hands flopped uselessly on the table. Tears now mixed with loose graphite and stained her page. So much for handing that one in.
Ring. Click.
“Hey, it’s Wallflower. I’m not at the phone right now, but you can leave a message, or text me. Or don’t. You probably dialed me by mistake. Beep.”
It was only a matter of time until Wallflower’s phone provider cut off her service. Only a matter of time until she would hear the girl she loved’s voice one final time. Sunset hung up, dropping her phone on the desk. Her hands moved to support her head as she let every inch of pain and grief out of her with wracked, painful sobs. Fingers ripped at her hair as she shrieked something uselessly close to Wallflower’s name.
The room filled with heavy silence as Sunset’s tears lulled her to a hiccup-filled sleep. Her throat was shredded from the screaming. Sunset couldn’t even cry if she wanted to.
As her eyes slid shut, the light outside slowly faded. Stars scattered scarcely across the skyline. Illuminated by the light of the cosmos, Sunset slept soundly.
“This is what it means to love someone. This is what it means to grieve someone. It’s a little bit like a black hole. It’s a little bit like infinity.”
― Harriet Reuter Hapgood, The Square Root of Summer
