Liminal Space

by Rodimus Pumpernickle

Rating: teen
Tags: Sex, Flash Sentry, Profanity, Timber Spruce, Slice of Life, Romance, Equestria Girls
Length: 11407

Flash and Timber go on a date.

Is it weird to write a fan-fiction of a fan-fiction? This is a story I wanted to write that takes place between MarvelandPonder's The Exes Club and Empathy for the Devil of what Flash and Timber were like when they started dating.

Published 2023-08-16 19:50:01 UTC
Last updated 2023-08-16 19:50:01 UTC

Chapter 1

“You sure you want to do this?” Timber’s eyes twinkled, his face already flushed as he waited for Flash to finish fussing with his laces. Geez he was cute when he was trying not to be impatient.

“Of course I do!” Ever since Timber brought up wanting to try this, it was nearly all Flash could think about. Those butterflies would go away eventually, right? Of course, people did this all the time. It had definitely been a while since Flash had, but it was like riding a bike. Timber wasn’t going to judge him too much if he flailed around a little bit at first. Right?

A warm hand covered his and squeezed comfortingly. “Hey,” his date’s voice was quiet, “If you’re nervous, don’t be. I’ve never done this before, I’m sure not going to judge anyone. We’ll both learn as we go and if it’s not fun, we’ll stop.”

A sigh he hadn’t realized he’d been holding shuddered through him.

“Thanks. Let’s do this.”

An adorable smile quirked up the edges of Timber’s mouth, his face already flushed, and Flash felt his own cheeks already ablaze. He rose on unsteady legs, doing his best not to fall against his maybe-boyfriend, and they both stumbled their way to the edge of the ice rink.

Awkward fumbling, flailing, unexpected collisions, and what would probably be bruised behinds the next day ensued for all. For the first ten minutes or so. But as Flash hugged the wall, slowly getting used to standing on skates again, even getting some momentum going without falling for a while, he could see Timber already skating further inside the rink, going faster, farther, turning without flailing.

By the time Flash was able to turn corners with reasonable comfort, Timber was racing straight down the center of the ice and launching himself into the air. Granted, it took him a number of tries to even land on his skates, and a good number of tries beyond that for him to keep his feet under him. The first time he managed to jump, spin, and keep his balance, his elated cry of triumph echoed in the mostly empty rink. A small group of teenage girls had broken into cheers and applause as they did sedate laps, and Timber beamed as he bowed like the showman he was. Turning those bright eyes to find the boy he’d come here with, he cupped his bright red hands to his mouth.

“Did you see that?”

Grinning from where he was leaning against the wall, Flash pushed himself forward and wobbled his way toward his date’s waiting arms, letting his momentum be caught.

“That was incredible!” It was incredible. He was incredible. But also, “Your hands are freezing!”

A nasal, shaky laugh punctuated Timber’s heavy breathing. “Yeah, I think I need to give them a break. Do you want to keep skating?” Little beads of sweat hovered around his temples and through layers of down and fleece between them he could feel the exhausted tremor running through his frame, even as he helped to keep Flash steady on his feet.

“Nah, I’m pretty worn out. Let’s go get cocoa.”

“Mmm, with little marshmallows,” Timber sighed dreamily as, arms around each other, they skated slowly back to the edge of the ice. “Maybe whipped cream, too.”

“I know just the place.”

In a city the size of Canterlot, one had their pick of bakeries, cafes, dessertieries, patisseries, and espresso stands from which to consume any variety of creamy molten chocolate. The unusually light street traffic provided a clearer than normal view of pedestrians clutching steaming paper cups. Parents keeping up with children too excited to walk as they neared shopfronts with fogged over windows.

Nostalgia tugged at the edges of Flash’s focus as he carefully piloted the Camareo through rain-soaked intersections. Memories from the back seat of his mom’s station wagon begged to stop for cocoa. The thrill of the rare times she’d turn on the blinker and drive around to find parking. The jingle of a small bell overhead when he’d push open the heavy wooden door. The smell of deep fried dough and sugar glazes hit him before the cozy warm air did.

Then would come the delicious agony of having to choose only one donut from the endless-seeming glass cases, all streaked with the face prints of other children trying to make the same impossible choice. He remembered the seriousness of the choice itself more clearly than what he chose. Always too impatient, he would unfailingly burn his mouth on the cocoa, then take a desperate bite of donut to absorb the heat; the soft sound of his mother's laugh into her own steaming paper cup; the delight in having made her happy without even trying.

That old donut shop had closed years ago, quaint and unable to keep up with a modernizing neighborhood, but every snowfall it sprang to life in fleeting, half-remembered moments.

Block after block of the downtown core rolled past in silence. When he realized he’d been lost in his memories for a while, Flash glanced to the passenger seat, afraid to find Timber checking his phone or otherwise bored. Instead he was looking out at the passing towers of glass and steel, invisible against the night sky save for the cool yellow squares of light scattering upwards, his expression soft and eyes distant. It didn’t compare to the deep ocean of stars he’d seen out in the Everfree woods, but Flash supposed it was still pretty in a man-made sort of way.

Then again, there was a little smudge on the window from Timber’s nose and those cold lights stretching to the sky might as well have been dipped in chocolate and sprinkles for the way he was staring. How many times had he ever seen the city at night, Flash wondered. Probably not many.

Taking the scenic route to their cocoa destination seemed like the gentlemanly thing to do. If Timber noticed, he didn’t say anything until they pulled into the parking lot next to the Sweet Snacks Diner.

“Are we at the mall?” The accusatory delight in Timber’s voice was muffled against the window— face and hands pressed to the glass like the overgrown kid he was.

“If we’re getting hot chocolate with the works,” Flash grinned as he backed into a parking space, “we’re not going to do better than here.”

“I like the way you think.”

Setting the parking brake, Flash looked over to say something perfectly flirtatious when several things happened simultaneously: an empty passenger seat greeted his gaze, the dome light came on, a rush of cold hit him like a wave on his left side, and the cheerful “ding” of the open door alert sounded helpfully from the dashboard. He whipped his gaze left and found his date holding his door open like a rugged paper towel mascot got a job as a fairytale footman.

“Whuaah!” Flash said intelligently.

“Too smooth? I was going for smooth.”

The only thing he could think to do under the circumstances was to undo his seatbelt and step out— he’d get used to this, he told himself, trying to mean it. Someday, Timber Spruce trying to impress him would be the oldest of hats.

“You didn’t have to open the door for me, you know.” He realized that had sounded less accusatory in his head as the statement was halfway out of his mouth, but his swerve to self-correct was pre-empted on the inhale.

“You didn’t have to take the long way here.” Timber’s eyes crinkled at the edges and there was suddenly a warm hand in his. “I wanted to.”

“Oh,” was all he could think to say, heat flooding his face. They were standing very close. “Um. Thank you.”

Timber shivered in his fleece-collared coat, giving Flash a half-sheepish grin through teeth that were starting to chatter. “Mind if we go inside? It’s freezing out here and papa needs his cocoa.”

The relieved laugh that burbled out of him definitely did not in any way resemble a nervous giggle whatsoever. “Good idea.” Hands still clasped, they maneuvered the icy parking lot toward the neon glow promising sugary, deep-fried happiness.

This time Flash got to the door first and opened wide the barrier to the smell and feel of toasty warm, comforting nostalgia, gesturing valiantly for his date to proceed first. Timber tossed him a cute grin and a tiny wink as he passed by, to which it was impossible not to grin in response as he followed after.

As was typical, the place was a bustling, jostling cacophony of retro jukebox music, dancing teenagers, buzzing neon everything, and waitresses whizzing past carrying platters of carefully balanced food orders. What was not typical were the large folded paper flowers hung up around the walls, the fake flower garlands strung from the ceiling and adorning the necks of the waitstaff, and the heavy ukulele motif coming through the speakers.

“This place is great!” Delightfully surprised, Timber’s expression had that kid-at-Hearth's-Warming quality to it again. “I wonder why Twilight never wanted to come here.”

Shaking himself from the confusion of trying to reconcile the new tropical decorating choices with the retro 50s diner aesthetic, Flash fell into a different sort of surprise.

“Really? You two never came here?” This was one of the more popular high school date spots in the city.

“Nah, we’d usually go to Sugarcube Corner. Twi— light,” Timber caught the old endearment with a nearly imperceptible wince, “said it was ‘just easier.’”

“Huh, that’s weird. I wonder why.”

“Oh. My. GOSH!”

Both young men turned their heads in unison toward the source of the new voice. Wide, intensely blue eyes were fixed on them and growing wider by the second, as was the grin beneath them. Forget the moment from before, Pinkie Pie was then and would always remain the singular example of a kid on Hearths Warming under even the most mundane of circumstances. Getting to play matchmaker to two friends on their way to becoming more than friends was adding sherry napalm and rumball grenades on that holly jolly bonfire.

“Ohhhhh, that makes sense now,” Timber nodded to himself, looking like he’d finally filled in the last numeral in a long-baffling equation as the Harbinger of Fun descended on them like a tropical storm dressed in blue rayon and roller skates.

After a brief wait for a corner booth to free up—during which Timber occupied a helicoptering Pinkie with some questions about holiday party suggestions— the two young men were able to sit and turn their attention to each other again.

“So,” Flash managed, feeling an awkward smile creeping over his face, his mind racing for something to talk about. Napkin dispenser, salt and pepper, ketchup bottle, faint reflection in the window glass looking out onto the glittery parking lot and oh sweet Hendrix, was that what his hair looked like? His hands went immediately to comb through and re-shape his disastrously droopy coif, treading their familiar patterns until every strand was back in its proper place.

One more careful inspection of his appearance later, he pried his eyes away from the window and found his date staring right at him. Cheek resting in one hand, lips curled up at the edges, eyebrows raised to his hairline but the softness in his eyes betrayed too much sentiment to make the mock judgment stick. Not that Flash would have taken it seriously otherwise; he knew Timber better than that by now, at least.

Face growing warm, he recovered and volleyed back a half-lidded smirk of his own, smoothing a hand casually through his rejuvenated hairstyle. “Enjoy the show?”

Green eyes unmoving from Flash’s own, Timber’s smile relaxed into a warmer, dreamier one. “Uh-huh.”

Something inside flip-flopped and it took some willpower for him not to squirm in his seat. No fair, feinting left into sincerity like that just when he was getting used to playful banter.

“Well, that’s… there’s… more where that came from… later.” Perfect landing, as usual, Sentry.

Timber, suddenly consumed with perusing the laminated fold-out treasure map that served as the dessert menu, didn’t seem to notice.

“Okay,” came his voice just before the menu flipped around, one long finger pointing to a photo of an ice cream sundae, “this has to be an exaggeration, right?”

Flash chuckled and unzipped his coat. “Nope, it’s even more impressive in person.”

“Nu-uh, you have not ordered this thing!” Seeming genuinely impressed and simultaneously concerned, Timber blatantly ogled his date’s torso as it emerged from under his coat. “Where did you put it all? It physically would not fit.”

Suddenly very aware of how the waistband of his jeans was cutting into the softness around his waist, Flash froze while removing his arm from his coat sleeve, fighting the urge to pull it back on and zip it up for the remainder of their date. “I’ve never ordered one,” he said, inwardly wincing at the defensive squeak in his voice, “they’re for sports teams to share after games.” Both arms freed from downy puffer sleeves, said sleeves were then looped and secured around his waist like a sweatshirt or flannel. Habit, of course. Not to hide anything. “Or for Rarity when she’s having a really bad day.”

There was a short laugh, then a long pause from behind the dessert menu. “You’re joking, right?”

“Nope. Everyone calls it the Rarity Special.”

Slowly the menu lowered, revealing only the top of Timber Spruce’s head, his eyes a mixture of disbelief and delight— a breath was taken but whatever he was about to say was cut short by a garland of plastic flowers slapping itself atop his tousled mop of hair.

“Oopsie!” a familiar voice skated its way into their conversation just ahead of the body it belonged to. A matching garland ringed its way effortlessly around Flash’s neck before he even registered it was coming at him and he blinked down stupidly at it. “Sorry, Timber, guess my aim’s a little off tonight!”

“No harm done, Ponkles. Can’t remember the last time anyone gave me flowers. Plumeria rubra, nice choice.”

Pinkie Pie’s giggle-snort accompanied a modest “aww shucks” hand-wave. “That’s just how we’re saying ‘aloha’ to our guests this month. Welcome to Haywaiian Nights November, where everyone gets lei-ed!” She threw her arms out and enthusiastically struck a pose like she was waiting for a freeze frame. Flash and Timber glanced at each other, unsure if that phrasing had been on purpose. “Tonight,” she suddenly chirped, re-animating like an automaton, “our specials are the spam-pineapple teriyaki burger, our new ahi-ginger poke bowl, and the all-day breakfast special loco moco.”

Mind reeling from the idea of consuming raw fish from a retro theme diner in a shopping mall, or eating anything as heavy and grease-saturated as rice, burger patties, fried eggs and gravy while on a date, Flash just focused on keeping his face neutral. Across the table, Timber folded the dessert menu and fixed Pinkie with a grin that under any other circumstances would have been easy to read as flirtatious. Or was he just being friendly? Sometimes it was hard to tell.

“Two of your finest hot chocolates with the works will suit us just fine.”

Something lightly bumped Flash’s foot under the table and it wasn’t until he felt it gently rubbing against the leather of his winter boot that he realized it was Timber’s foot.

“N’aww, are you sure? We’ve got a chocolate haupia cream pie for you two lovebirds to split, if you want.” Her grin was just this side of manic as she poked Timber with alternating index fingers, as though that was the secret to getting them to give in.

Playfully holding the menu up like a shield between himself and the petal-pink digits swarming him, there was no hint of anything but mirth to his demeanor, nor any hint that under the table his foot was still keeping steady rhythm against Flash’s. “No pie, I say, you temptress! Just the chocolates of hotness. Please.” He added, peeking out from behind the menu once her assault on his shoulder stopped.

“You got it, Timb-ucktoo! Two cocoas coming right up for my two favorite guys!” She zipped off around the counter and through the double doors into the kitchen, shouting several orders in line cook jargon.

Setting the menu back behind the ketchup bottle, Timber closed his eyes and with a soft sigh, dropped his head back against the back of the booth. The footsie stopped and with a hit of regret Flash realized he’d been too surprised to respond to it. Gingerly questing around with his toe yielded nothing but the table leg, and instead of slowly disappearing under the table trying to save a moment he’d already ruined, Flash opted to try a new moment.

Timber’s eyes blinked open when Flash’s hand covered one of his and once he registered what was happening, he smiled sheepishly and sat up.

“Sorry, it’s not you. It’s just been a long week.” The hand under his shifted only enough to return the favor, long, flared fingers wrapping gently around the back of Flash’s hand. “The winter season kids just went home yesterday. They were great, but let’s just say I was running out of ways to politely turn down marriage proposals from ten year-olds.” He laughed good-naturedly, but there was something deeply tired behind it, and his fingers grew a little firmer. “Been looking forward to something more low-key.”

There was a kind of gravity to Timber with his guard down, a feeling of being drawn toward that glimpse of vulnerability the way a honeybee was drawn to a newly opened flower.

Or a moth to a bug-zapper, something cynical in him muttered. Sunset had been the same way, all confidence and bravado on the outside but sometimes the mask would fall and he’d see the parts of her that were tired and afraid and uncertain; and he’d feel special, like he was seeing something no one else ever got to, and if he could just figure out how to hold that curtain back a little longer…

Sometimes he did wonder if he was falling back into an old pattern with this new relationship. He and Sunset had barely known each other before she’d asked him out; he and Twilight— the other one— had spent more time bumping into each other than they had actually talking. Heck, if he was being honest with himself, he'd spent most of fourth grade pining after Mint Tea because she shared a juice box with him one time.

Now here he was, totally infatuated with someone with whom he'd spent one week at summer camp awash in jealousy, and a few scattered conversations when Twilight— the this one— would bring her then-boyfriend to parties he happened to be at. At what point he’d actually gone from wishing he was the one making her smile that way, to wishing to be the one Timber would look at so softly, he had no idea. Nor did he have any idea why. It had taken him an embarrassingly long time to realize it himself, and by then the intensity of his crush was staggering. Over someone he barely knew.

Maybe his old pattern was less “falling for someone using him” and more “running headlong into serious feelings before there was anything real to back them up”— that was definitely becoming a pattern in his love life, and the fact that he’d managed to catch himself calling Timber his boyfriend before they’d even gone on a date sure seemed like more of the same. One kiss in a hospital parking lot during a mutually vulnerable moment did not a boyfriend make. Even now he could feel the word bubbling around in his subconscious whenever he thought about him, in different inflections and emphases and meanings and boy if that wasn’t a serious flashback to the Girlfriend Twilight Sparkle thing that never was.

“Ground control to Major Sentry.”

Flash snapped out of his thoughts and found a pair of deep green eyes looking at him with mild concern.

“You okay? You kinda spaced out there for a minute.”

“Oh!” He resisted the impulse to pull his hand away in reflexive shame, reminding himself he was allowed to hold Timber’s hand now. “Yeah, yeah, sorry. It’s been a long week for me too, heh.”

“Right, yeah, big history test coming up, plus that new job! How’s that been going?” He actually looked interested, too.

“Oh! Really good! Mr. Le Grand thinks I’m ready to move onto puff pastry next week, since my croissants are getting better.”

“Hey, that’s great! Moving up in the world of laminated doughs already!” Timber’s whole face lit up, less in a ‘hey campers, let’s do arts and crafts’ kind of way and more of a ‘that’s really exciting, you must be so proud’ kind of way that Flash was learning to get used to. Who’d have guessed that under all that was a real guy who was actually interested in how he was doing at his holiday-season job.

Was this what a relationship was supposed to be like?

“Thanks, it’s pretty nice, feeling like I’m doing something right…”

The blade of Timber’s thumb softly brushed a half-circle on Flash’s palm. “More than one, from where I’m sitting.” Not too far under the surface of the darker-skinned boy’s flirtatious smile was the hint of something fragile that made Flash ache to curl protectively around it. Or maybe to kiss him so hard neither of them could breathe. Judging by the way Timber was looking at him, Flash wasn’t alone in the urge to slip out the door and handsily fumble their way to the back seat of his car—

“Hot chocolate delivery!” Once again, Pinkie-Pie rolled up to their table, a platter held confidently over one shoulder. He didn’t know who withdrew their hand first or when it happened, only that he realized they’d stopped when he reached for his mug.

“One for Flash,” Pinkie Pie sing-songed, tossing off a little wink along with the mountain of whipped cream, sprinkles, chocolate drizzle, chopped nuts, and some sort of (he hoped) edible glitter in an oversized mug possibly containing hot chocolate somewhere underneath. “One for Timber,” she repeated the same verbal pattern as she handed the second confection over, then reached back up to the platter, “and for the happy couple, one macadamia malasada, on the house!”

Both boys peered around the impressive piles of sugar in front of them at a solitary donut in the middle of a dessert plate, perfectly fried to a golden brown, fat with cream filling, delicately dusted with powdered sugar. Right in the middle, blaring from the traditional donut aesthetic like a neon nightclub in a suburban neighborhood, was a heart shape formed out of every color of glitter sprinkle in a gradient rainbow of expectation.

“Um, Pinkie…?”

“I know you said just the hot chocolates, but it’s your third date! It’s a special occasion! And I remembered on my way back to the kitchen that something told me this morning to decorate a batch of donuts for something special, and I had one left in the back, and it was the one I knew was going to be the most special, and then you two came in and that was it! Pinkie Sense strikes again!” This last was said in an eerie voice as she rolled backwards to a table of new customers, winking again before going back to her job.

Flash was sure that donut was staring at him with its unblinking rainbow eye of judgment, with the waistband of his jeans chiming in with a friendly reminder of its snugness. Here he was, on a date with… well anyone, let alone the person who’d been the source of so much angst and long showers and probably (definitely) way too many king-sized candy bars, and things were going really well, like shockingly well, and that also meant that things were probably progressing toward... things, and—

“Hey, Flash,” came Timber’s flirty tones, breaking the hypnotic spell of the rainbow glitter. Looking up, the sounds of the diner coming back into focus, a warm flush spreading down through his torso as his eyes found the handsome young man across the table. Resting his jaw on one hand, leaning forward, almond eyes half-lidded and seductive in a way that would have sent an electric jolt straight through him if it weren’t for the globs of whipped cream patted into a huge sloppy mustache, some of which was slowly sliding down toward his chocolate-painted fish-faced pucker.

“Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful.”

Frozen between arousal and shock, Flash’s body finally responded with a loud, throaty laugh burbling up and ripping out of his chest until he couldn’t breathe. Gasping, tears stinging the corners of his eyes, he looked up to see Timber still in the same pose, trails of sweetened cream dripping off his chin, a smarmy grin in place while his eyebrows waggled. Helpless against the next peals of laughter pouring out of him, Flash attempted to cover his mouth but instead just wiped the tears out of his eyes before clutching his aching sides.

Clearly amused, Timber was carefully wiping his makeover off with a finger, then popping it in his mouth, while sparing some glances Flash's way as the giggles slowly stopped bubbling up. “Welcome back.”

Catching his breath and more than a little distracted by Timber’s clean up job, the words took a moment to register. “Huh? What do you mean?” In his defense, it didn’t seem fair to start a conversation while licking chocolate off his lips in a way reminiscent of a cat after a meal.

“I mean,” began the distracting lips, pausing every few seconds to clean another sticky finger, “you’ve been zoned out half the time we’ve been here. Like something’s bothering you.” Head down as he ran his thumb from the corner of his mouth down his lower lip, clearing off a little smear of cream, something in his expression inscrutable. Nothing in his demeanor changed as he continued to clean his face but an idea arose in Flash's mind that Timber was aware of being watched and was simply letting him.

Not putting on a show about it, or inviting the attention, simply letting him stare. That set his mind running to some new places and why was it so hot in there, he was sweltering, and wait, Timber just said something else and was now looking expectantly at him.

“Uhhhh…” Crap, what did he say? Make something up? No, bad idea. Ask him to repeat? That seemed pretty rude at this juncture. Crap crap crap!

To his credit, Timber didn’t seem angry; he gestured non-judgmentally and looked mostly curious. “My point, ladies and gentlemen. What’s going on?”

Well, direct and to the point. Maybe he should just get it out there, since Timber had already noticed enough to bring it up. He had to face the fact that, as well as things were going, they weren't going to be able to go much further without having to deal with it, and... if it was going to be the end, maybe sooner was better than later for that, too.

He really didn't want it to be the end.

Looking down at his hot chocolate, he blew a puff of air through his suddenly dry lips. “Okay, uh... Well.” He softly cleared the tickle at the back of his throat, trying to tamp down the rising nervous panic welling up at the thought of saying the words out loud. Or even how to say them at all.

Needing a boost to get him through this and not seeing what he had to lose at this point, he quickly scooped most of the whipped cream and sprinkles off the top of his drink and took a long swig of the cocoa beneath. A swig that became a chug, and another, and another, until the mug was empty and his nerve endings were on fire with adrenaline and sucrose. Another breath out, and he was ready to rip the bandage off.

“I—”

Screeching microphone feedback interrupted Flash along with every other conversation in the diner, a booming silence rushing to fill its wake. Timber's expression of growing concern changed to a wince, and they both looked around in confusion. The other patrons were doing the same, with all heads turned to the cause of the disturbance: Pinkie Pie next to the jukebox wielding a microphone and an ever widening grin of very white teeth. Anyone who'd known her for five minutes would have wondered why the microphone was even necessary, and yet still her voice crackled through the speakers set up along the ceiling.

“Here’s a special tune going out to a very special couple on a very special night! Flash Sentry and Timber Spruce, this one’s from all of us at the Sweet Snacks Diner, to you.”

Pinkie pointed right at them with a dramatic wink, all eyes turning to follow the trajectory of her finger.

Oh no.

As if to drive the discomfort home, a soft, romantic classic 50s love ballad began to pipe from the jukebox in the back, like a wave of nausea coming at him in a rising tide of horror. The eyes on them were mercilessly unblinking, everyone trying to figure out what was happening and what they should be doing.

Hesitantly, Timber raised his hand in a little wave, then turned back to look at Flash, his expression somewhere between baffled and pleasantly irritated. “You want to get out of here?”

“Yeah.”

Money was thrown on the table, coats were put on in stride, the bell over the door jingled in the near quiet, and they were outside in the cold, the strains of the do-wop love ballad straggling behind them as they made their way back toward the Camareo. After a few feet, there was a soft sound from the boy next to him, then another, until the snicker gave way to a chuckle. Flash glanced out of the corner of his eye to see his date shaking his head and smiling to himself. Chest loosening a little, Flash hid his own smile behind his jacket's chin guard.

By the time they had reached the car, the pair were emitting matching giggles; the clicking of each seatbelt into place served as a starter pistol shot for the full-throated bursts of laughter neither could contain anymore. Each of them slowly, happily sputtered to a stop after a few moments, with another beat of comfortable silence following in the afterglow.

“So,” Flash said as he started the engine and let it idle to warm, “where to? I know it’s starting to get late…”

“I can hang out for a little longer.” Timber’s response was just a hair’s breadth quicker than the nonchalance he seemed to be going for, and the slight sheepishness to his smile said that he knew it. “It’s been a while since I had this much fun,” he offered as though he needed to justify his enthusiasm.

Flash’s fingers tingled from more than just the cold. “Me too.” A deep breath rattled out of his lungs and for a moment the puff of vapor briefly turned Timber into a silver screen homme fatale, backlit from the streetlight outside, his eyes twinkling, mischievous, and warm. Catching himself before he lost all focus, he spent more concentration on his gear shift than strictly necessary as he eased the car out of its spot. “So where to?”

“Surprise me.”

“Okay, consider me surprised.” Timber’s eyebrows were practically butting up against his hairline as Flash put the car in park and killed the engine.

“Is this okay? I know you and… that the observatory was a special spot for… before⁠—”

“You can say her name,” was the affectionately sardonic response, “I promise not to burst into flames or anything.”

Face warming, Flash folded his hands in his lap, fingers fidgeting. “Fair enough. Um. But yeah, it’s sort of similar and we can leave, but I thought maybe you’d like a different sort of view.” Hopeful, he peered over at his date, prepared for whatever verdict this idea was going to get.

Whatever Timber was thinking was a mystery, but his gaze was soft and lost someplace distant. Through the windshield, the twinkling lights of the city stretched out to the horizon in front of them. It was a great spot; a turnoff on the highway through the mountain pass that led to the beach, just high enough to make one forget whatever issues one had in their personal life— a little cliff just tall enough to make someone feel suspended between reality and the fear of falling. The still waters of the inlet that barely reached that far inland, cradled in the pass between two mountains, stretching itself toward the glittering lights of the city that lay just out of reach.

“You really know what speaks to a guy’s interests,” Timber said, breaking the comfortable silence. “If I didn’t know better I’d say you were trying to get on my good side.” The wistful expression gone, he quirked an impish smile at Flash, his eyes twinkling in the dim light.

Flash felt himself smirking in return. “Why would you get that idea? I haven’t suddenly developed sly-eye game, have I?”

Spruce’s poker face cracked and he spluttered out a surprised laugh. “Definitely not, no. I mean you’re not as hopeless as Twilight, but still. Message received.”

Flash chuckled. “So long as I’m not dead last, I guess.”

“Are you kidding me? First day of camp, Gloriosa and I are up introducing ourselves, and there’s Twi just…” He leaned forward and gazed off intensely with a wide-eyed stare. “You’re more like a…” Shifting back into a casual slouch, he squinched his face up into a scowl while his eyes roved Flash up and down.

Face suddenly ablaze, Flash stared on in growing horror. “Noooo, no, no I don’t. Do I?”

Dropping out of his impression, Timber at least had the sense to look apologetic. “Not since we started dating, no, you’re way less scowly. It’s just every time before then, that was how you looked when I was around.”

“Every time?? Oh god.” He buried his burning face in his hands, wishing he could fling himself into the night and never look back.

There was a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Hey, Flash, it’s okay. I was dating the girl you liked. Plus, I mean look at me, who’s going to blame you for scoping out the goods while planning where to bury them?”

Despite himself, Flash laughed, though still feeling lousy. “I’m really sorry.”

“Don’t be. It was how you felt. Plus, it was really cute the way you had no idea anyone else could tell. Seriously adorable.”

Rolling his eyes, he fixed his date with a sarcastic side-eye. “Trust me, there’s nothing adorable about that side of myself. Ask anyone.”

“Begging to differ with you there. The only thing I’ve ever heard about you from anyone is how nice you are.”

Running a hand through his hair, Flash sighed and tried to reset his dampening mood with a smile. “That’s probably enough about me. What about you? Outside of helping run Camp Everfree, liking marshmallows in your cocoa, and being kind of obsessed with the mall, what are you into?”

“Hearing more about you, mostly. Mister Mysterious over here, color me fascinated. Like, how does the teenage kid of a private detective end up with a car like this? Overtime at the shishi restaurant gig?”

“No, look, it’s a long story and—”

“My favorite kind!” Timber undid his seatbelt and arranged himself against the car door, arms crossed, wearing an encouraging smile. Clearly not planning on budging an inch until he had storytime.

Well, this was what he got for bringing the guy up to his old makeout spot. Anywhere in the city he could have chosen and his hormones decided it had to be this one. Instant karma. Classic Sentry.

“I got it from my dad last year,” he began, picking the most abridged version he could. “It was in pretty bad shape but he got it on the condition that I’d help him fix it up. So I did, and now I have a car, the end.”

Timber looked on expectantly, waiting for the rest. “And?”

“That’s it.”

“Huh. Okay, wow, the mind boggles at what your short stories are like.” He sat back properly in his seat. “So you’re into cars and stuff? That’s cool.”

Flash’s heart sank. It hadn’t been an unreasonable question, and even if Timber was trying to hide it there was a distance there now. Their third date and he was losing interest.

“No, I’m not really into cars.” He sighed. “He got it as a bargain with me. To try and keep me out of juvie.”

He definitely had Timber’s interest back. Those green eyes were wide and pointed right at him, his mouth opening to no doubt make some quip, so Flash screwed up his courage and cut him off. “I wasn’t always the nicest guy, okay? My family had just moved here and I missed my old friends and I was going through this angsty phase, and going out with Sunset just magnified everything—”

“Whoah, whoah, hang on!” Timber made a “T” with his hands. “Time out, ref needs a second. So…” He paused, lost in thought for a moment, then started ticking off his fingers. “You nearly went to juvie, you had an angsty phase, and you dated Sunset?”

“Yeah.”

“Shimmer.”

“That’s the one.”

“Wow.”

“Yep.”

“Wow.”

Flash did his best to tamp down his anxiety while he watched Timber absorb this. “I’m surprised Twilight never mentioned it. Me and Sunset, I mean.”

Still distracted, Timber shook his head absently. “Yeah, wouldn’t that have been nice.” He snapped back to the present and fixed those bright, curious eyes on him again. “How long were you two a thing? Was it serious?”

“About two years, and yeah, for me it was pretty serious. I mean, part of it was me rebelling against my dad, but I really cared about her, too. That’s why it was so easy for me to fall as far as I did with the vandalism and stuff. We were both dumbasses making bad choices, but it was nice having someone there who understood why you were angry. Who just wanted to break stuff and howl at the moon beside you. As bad as we both were for each other then, I don’t know what I would have done without her.”

As reluctant as he always was to bring up the part of his life he was most ashamed of, he had to admit that it was hard to stop once he got going. Just about everyone he knew had been around to witness it and it seemed to slide past most conversations about that era in Canterlot High’s history. Weirdly, actually talking about it felt sort of good.

“So why’d you break up?”

“A bunch of reasons. The main one was Sunset was getting really cruel. She was bullying people and rigging class elections and school dance votes in her favor, spreading rumors just to hurt people. I was mad at my dad, none of my classmates did anything to deserve what she was doing. So I’d stand up to her, defend people when she was picking on them— she hated it, thought I’d turned against her. Which, I guess I did eventually, but at first I was just trying to get her to see what she was doing wasn’t right and go back to being more like she used to be. But she didn’t want to hear anything except support and just kept getting worse. And that was when I started to see what my dad had been telling me all along, and I realized I was becoming someone I didn’t want to be.

“So I broke up with her and spent a few weeks helping my dad fix up the car, met Twilight— the other Twilight— and thought, hey, a fresh start with someone who’s basically the total opposite of Sunset. And on some level, I guess I hoped she could be like a redemption for me and I could make up for all the mistakes I made, which was unfair. And she went back to Equestria and I’ve just been re-inventing myself ever since. Not Mister Mysterious, just a dumb guy who messed up a lot and somehow nobody blames him for any of it.”

A heavy silence descended in the car cabin. Even now, on a date with someone he really liked, he couldn’t just keep the conversation light and fun.

“You’re really hard on yourself, you know that?” Timber’s half smile was sweet. “I mean, I know the students at Canterlot High have dealt with some pretty messed up things, but it sounds to me like maybe you weren’t one of them.”

“Sunset was. Maybe if I hadn’t been there, egging her on, being too wrapped up in my own issues to see what she was turning into I could have stopped her before she went off the deep end.”

“Okay, believe me when I say that this kind of thinking will drive you nuts.” Timber’s free-and-easy glibness slid away as he rested a hand over one of Flash’s own. “You can’t undo the past. I don’t know who you were then, but I like who you are now. And so do your friends and classmates.”

Little green fairy lights hung in the air between them and Flash’s hand tingled with faint electric pulses where his and Timber’s skin met. Not the grand orchestra of that night in the hospital parking lot, but a sweeter, quieter refrain of the same melody.

“Thanks,” he said softly. Flash’s thumb sparked in slow circles over the back of Timber’s hand. “So, Mister Mysterious, what in your past would you undo if you could?”

“I’d…” Despite himself, it was so difficult not to feel a little smug watching Timber’s face slide through several emotions nearly simultaneously before snapping to ‘cool nonchalonce’ as he recovered his composure. “Excuse me, who’s Mister Mysterious here? Emo rebel guy with the demon ex-girlfriend?”

Flash could feel the smirk slide across his face. Impishly, he leaned in and lightly booped the tip of Timber’s nose with a finger, causing a small blue electric spark to spritz at the contact. Somewhere there was a faint hum, like an amp had just been plugged in, awaiting the first strum of fingers over metal strings.

Timber Spruce looked sheepish, but his eyes were bright and amused. “Okay, I walked into that one.” Heaving a dramatic sigh, leaned back against the door. “There’s lots of things I’d do differently if I had the chance. Spend more time with people while they were around, not fight with my sister so much… not spend so much time making her life harder than it already is in general. Definitely would have run away a lot less.”

It was Flash’s turn to blink in surprise. “You ran away from home? More than once?”

“Oh yeah, it almost got to be a hobby at one point. I was trying to see how far away I could get and how proportionally mad Gloriosa would be whenever she found me, which definitely correlated. Never did find out what would have happened if I’d ever made it across the provincial line, but my theory involves those home arrest ankle bracelets or possibly land mines outside my bedroom window.”

“Why?”

“Well, Gloriosa’s what you’d call intense and single-minded, especially when she gets stressed, which is basically all the time.”

“What? No, I mean, why did you run away so much?”

Timber shifted uncomfortably and crossed his arms; for a moment Flash wondered if he was about to slam closed the door he’d barely cracked open. The air hummed its basso reverb through the lapse in conversation as Flash waited. Finally, Timber sighed and raked his fingers through his impossibly thick hair.

“It started when Shady Grove, one of our previous campers, invited me to his birthday party. Gloriosa wouldn’t let me go ‘cause she was too busy, so I decided to mail myself there.”

“You mailed yourself to someone’s birthday party?” he asked, carefully keeping all incredulity out of his voice.

“Oh, no, I didn’t actually manage to do it. The post office clerk told me I didn’t have enough for the postage.”

Either he was being serious or this was some long-con deadpan and Flash honestly couldn’t figure out which it was. It had to be flirty banter.

“If you didn’t make it anywhere it’s not really running away, then.”

Timber squinted at him. “You’ve been to the camp, it’s not like the post office is just behind the nearest bush. I stuffed a backpack full of clothes and snacks and walked there. And I wasn’t exactly planning a return trip.”

“Okay, but still, you didn’t actually do it.”

“Nope. Nobody who came in that whole morning wanted to give me the money no matter how adorably I asked. Mrs. Crabapple gave me a sandwich, though, which wasn’t nothing. But someone called Gloriosa who showed up and ripped me a new one in front of poor old Mister Haystack while he was trying to buy stamps. Got dragged home by my ear, loaded up with chores, yelled at some more, lost TV privileges for a week, then got smothered in hugs, tears, and guilt until bedtime. It was a whole thing.”

It was seeming more and more evident that Timber wasn’t joking around and Flash was starting to feel bad for having pressed him on something he didn’t seem eager to share.

“Wow. That must have been some birthday party.”

“Probably was, pretty sure Shady had a pool. Plus he said he’d take me to the mall so I could see what he and the other kids had all been talking about. Was pretty sure it was made up, since I couldn’t imagine a building big enough to have two stores in it, let alone dozens.”

“Oh, okay, so it was more than just the party, you wanted to see the city. That makes sense.”

Timber perked up at Flash seeming to get it– his face brightened and it was getting harder for Flash to stop wondering what it might be like to run his fingers through that mop of unruly hair. He bet it was soft.

“Yeah, it was the first time I ever got invited to do something as a regular kid. Hang out with people my own age and not have to teach them how to tie different knots or which types of bushes you really shouldn’t pee behind. To see what an entire store full of nothing but shoes even looked like, because evidently I was the last kid on the planet who hadn’t been to one. I just wanted to feel normal.”

“How old were you?”

“Seven. Well, at that point. Kept trying to run away until I was around eleven, when I guess I gave up. Figured I was stuck there if I hadn’t gotten away in that long. Tried to make the most of it, let go of any dreams outside of the most ironically named place on the planet, and just accept that I’d be looking after it until they buried me there too.

“And it helped, things got easier after I shut off any hope for anything else. Then the whole spa developer thing happened and it felt like we were going to lose the only thing we had left, until Gloriosa started going off the deep end with magic and it really sank in that I was going to lose her, too. For as much time as I spent feeling lonely, that was the first time I ever felt truly alone. She was destroying herself bit by bit and nothing I did made a bit of difference, and if I lost her, I don’t know what…”

Timber’s voice caught but he didn’t seem to notice. Flash’s breath was tight in his own chest, not daring to interrupt.

“Then along came Twilight and she changed everything. She and her friends saved my sister, you all helped save the camp, and now…” Spruce’s eyes flicked toward the windshield and the city view beyond. “Now I don’t know what to hope for.”

Flash didn’t know what to say. He felt like he should in this moment, having only minutes before been similarly vulnerable, but somehow nothing felt appropriate. How had Timber made it seem so effortless? Like saying the right thing was as natural as breathing?

“Well,” Timber said at last, “that’s not entirely true.” Those deep, dark eyes locked onto his again. The basso thrumming of his pulse thundered in Flash’s ears. Boyfriend boyfriend boyfriend plucked his serotonin-drenched synapses in accompaniment before he reigned them in.

“Heh, uhh… thanks,” was all he could manage, everything from his neck to the tips of his ears blazing hot. “You too. I mean me too. About you.”

Draping himself back against the door, eyes glittering with puckish delight, Timber regarded him for a moment. “I’m having the hardest time picturing you as an angry punk. Just saying.”

“Yeah, well I can totally see you trying to mail yourself to a birthday party.” Granted, in his mind’s eye Timber had gift wrapped himself and was emerging from a giant cake and this was definitely a train of thought he should be saving for later.

Timber grinned. “My reputation’s not on trial here. I’m on a date with a supposed delinquent who drove me up to his favorite makeout spot in his muscle car, and I’ve been giving him giant green-means-go lights all night, and yet here I sit, totally un-smooched. It’s a sad day for bad boys everywhere.”

“You— oh you want me to—!”

“Then again, I’m not used to having to work this hard,” Timber continued as Flash fumbled with this seatbelt clasp. “Twi used to just fling herself at me the second she— hrmp!”

At some point since they’d left the diner Timber had somehow snuck a breath mint. The sour, sticky residue of hot chocolate still lingered under the pungent peppermint but there were more important things happening at the moment. There were soft lips colliding, his hands were sliding into wild hair that was as soft as it looked, and two strong arms were wrapping around Flash’s back, pulling him even closer. Long fingers slid up into the tightly trimmed hair at the nape of his neck and Flash melted against him, moaning against the other boy’s mouth. The gap in time since he’d felt that particular rush was suddenly a chasm. How had he gone this long without it? It didn’t matter, so long as it didn’t stop now.

Timber made a small noise and squirmed beneath him, breaking the kiss with an apologetic wince. “Sorry,” he breathed, continuing to shift his legs around until he found space for them to stretch out without bumping the gear shift, the parking brake, or the steering wheel. The Camareo hadn’t been designed to accommodate lanky teenage legs sprawling sideways across the seats, which had frankly been a foolish oversight.

“You okay? We can move to the back seat if you want.”

“Nah, I’m good here. So long as I don’t hit the parking brake and send us into the inlet, I guess.” Timber’s mouth quirked at the edges, and his fingers grazed light, lazy half-circles in the short hair at the back of his head. Flash sucked in a breath and shivered, his nerve endings jolting. Timber shifted slightly beneath him again, this time the heat of his breath hit his throat just before the feather light brush of his lips did.

“Well,” he murmured, pressing tiny, soft kisses up toward Flash’s ear, “you seem to like that.”

“Mngn,” Flash replied, arching his neck. Hell, he was so good at this. “I bet you say that to all the guys.”

A soft chuckle tickled his ear. “Not true,” was the breathy, teasing sing-song response, “you’re my first.”

Despite himself and the highly enjoyable circumstance he was in no rush to stop, Flash found himself laughing quietly and rolling his eyes. Even he had overheard enough in the locker room to know the cliche of the guy who claimed to have never been with another guy but was clearly experienced. Credit for persistence, Timber never seemed to tire of ironically playing off his own reputation.

‘If you say so,’ was all he could think, wisely keeping it to himself to keep from ruining the moment. It was a really nice moment. Might have been nicer if Timber would let his guard down and quit with the games, but maybe with a little time.

In the meantime, there were other things to discover, like the fact that even Timber Spruce couldn’t suppress a moan while having his earlobe sucked. Also that the sound alone made Flash’s own legs go wobbly and he was grateful neither of them were standing. The just-in-case condom in his wallet was starting to feel like a better and better idea.

“Mmph, hey,” came the breathy voice near his ear and Flash paused to look down at the flushed face of his date. “Kinda miss the kissing.” In the dark, Timber’s lopsided smile looked almost apologetic, though what for was a mystery. He’d never thought of himself as a particularly amazing kisser, but Timber absolutely was, and the request was unexpected and strangely touching.

“Kissing’s good,” he heard himself say– thankfully instead of asking– as he sank into the other boy’s arms. Timber’s lips were soft and equally so was the kiss he didn’t seem eager to rush. ‘Languid’ was the word his mind conjured—though other parts of him were drumming other words far more bodied in time with his pulse—and it struck him at how gentle this guy was. For all his smirking, easy confidence, when it came down to getting down, he was all soft lips and whisper-light touches. Like he was handling something fragile and precious.

If there was one thing Sunset had never touched him like, it was that. Not that he’d ever minded, of course; in fact a couple of their wilder escapades—one of which had been at this very spot—were among his favorite experiences of anything ever. And for all the sorts of bad that had come from the two of them together, all the bruised lips and scraping of teeth together and indiscreet hands pawing each other greedily had just made him feel desired. She had kissed him like she’d wanted to devour him.

So far, after three dates Timber still kissed him like… well, like he was Twilight. In the hospital parking lot it had been sweet, as it remained on each subsequent date, and still was now. But Flash missed being devoured a little, and he was sure as hell ready to do some devouring of his own. Maybe this was the way Twilight had liked things, but it was time Timber knew he didn’t have to hold back as much with him.

When Flash ran his tongue along Timber's bottom lip, the other boy jolted like he'd been stabbed. Hardly the response Flash had been going for. Concerned, he pulled back, hoping he hadn't done that move badly. Being dominant wasn't a role he was used to in makeout sessions, and Timber was... actually looking a bit spooked. His stomach dropped.

“Are you okay?” How bad had that tongue move been? Maybe he should have given Timber a warning about how inexperienced he was before they'd started—faking confidence in his very rusty skills had seemed like okay advice when Sunset had insisted on it, and maybe she could have pulled it off, but his case was evidently more hopeless than that.

“Yeah, all good here!” The crookedness of Timber's smile was less charmingly cocky and more like he was trying to walk off a sports injury with too much bravado. Was his kissing that bad suddenly?

“You don't seem that okay. We can stop if you want to.”

Timber's eyes flared, somehow looking even more startled than before. “No! Really, I'm fine, I want to keep going.”

Whatever look Flash had on his face must have been unconvincing, since the next thing he knew, lips were being pressed against his and strong hands were cupping his cheeks. His hesitance was starting to dissolve when Timber's mouth opened into his and every hormone-soaked cell in his brain thrummed a deep, basso profondo devour me.

The windows in his car weren't the only things getting foggy⁠—his thoughts, his senses, everything was filling with the beautiful guy beneath him as they sank together against the inside of the door. He wanted to fall into Timber completely, let the smell and the taste and the feel of him become part of his own body⁠—

Why were his lips cold? There was a sound, someone saying, “wait, wait, please,” and Flash realized with a jolt that Timber's ragged breathing was too fast. Pulling back even further to give the other boy some air, a dozen panicked thoughts rushed through his mind, including the horrible notion that Timber had somehow heard his embarrassing wish to melt with him and now thought he was too weird to make out with.

“Timber? Are you okay?”

The other boy nodded emphatically, even as his face looked far from all right. “I just need a second.”

A somehow functional part of Flash's brain declared firmly that Timber was full of it and it was time to stop. Sliding back a few inches, just so he wouldn't be right in the other boy's lap, he moved to try and catch his eye.

“Hey, it's okay. Let's just call it here.”

Heavy brows squeezed over Timber's eyes and he heaved a sigh. “I'm sorry. I thought if we just kept...”

“There's nothing to be sorry for. I should be apologizing to you. Are you okay?”

Timber nodded again, more convincingly this time, and was able to meet his eyes. “You didn't do anything wrong. I thought I was ready, you were following my lead.”

Flash's tongue felt like a paperweight and a queasiness pressed into his guts at the idea of how far things might have gone with only one of them ready for it.

“I'm so glad you said something. You shouldn't feel pressured to--”

“I know, I know, it wasn't anything like that. I guess I… maybe haven't moved on as much as I thought I had.” The bitter disappointment on his face pricked at Flash's ego, the specter of Twilight hovering between them. Seeing something in Flash that distracted him from his own feelings, Timber put a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, it's not you, okay? This is all me and my issues. I might not be right where you are yet, but I'm catching up. I want to be there.”

Something like fear hovered around the edges of Timber's face and Flash couldn't help but melt a little at how hard he'd been trying. His date's hand was warm as he took it in his own, lacing their fingers together.

“There's no rush. I'm not going anywhere.”

Timber smiled, squeezing his hand slightly. Tiny pinpricks of green fairy lights winked back to life.

By the time the Camareo pulled into the ice rink’s parking lot, Timber’s jeep was the sole occupant remaining. Parking next to it, Flash let his car idle, not wanting to say goodnight yet but knowing Timber had a two hour drive home and they were already out later than they were supposed to be. Dating someone with their own apartment in town had definitely been easier.

“Thanks for a fun night.” Timber was looking a little wistful.

“Glad you had a good time. I did too.”

Timber’s mouth quirked slightly, though whatever he was thinking, he kept to himself. “So, I was wondering,” he paused, seeming to grow slightly uncertain before pressing on. “A while back, I got tickets to this art exhibit Twilight and I really wanted to go to. It’s opening in a few weeks and I was wondering if you’d want to go with me.”

Blinking in surprise—more at the thought that either Twilight or Timber would have been that interested in an art exhibit than anything—Flash felt himself break into a smile. “Yeah, I’d love to.”

The sight of Timber Spruce smiling at him in excited relief would never cease to send a shiver through him. “Cool! I’ll text you the details.” He flashed a grin as he opened the car door, the overhead light illuminating them both.

“Drive safe. Text me when you get home.”

“I will. G’night, Blue Eyes.”

The door closed behind him and Flash watched as he got into the jeep, waiting as Timber let the engine warm up. From somewhere in the backseat came a deep, vibrating thrum and a sick feeling crept up his spine that it was his dad wondering where he was. Fumbling behind his seat until he found his phone, he braced himself for an unhappy parental text and instead found several he’d missed earlier from Pinkie, one from Sunset, and one new one from Timber. Puzzled, he clicked the latter.

Check the glove compartment.

What did that mean? Had Timber forgotten something in there? Wondering why the guy didn’t come over and get whatever it was, Flash leaned over and popped open the glove compartment. Inside sat a small bundle of something carefully wrapped in paper napkins. The smell of sugar and coconut hit him and he realized it was the donut from the diner.

Completely baffled, he looked over to the other vehicle for some sort of explanation. Instead, the jeep was creeping slowly past, its driver wearing a cartoonish caricature of open-mouthed excitement and a parade wave as he passed by. What in the world was he playing at? Was this supposed to mean something or was he just being weird?

Scowling in confusion, his fingers flew over the keypad on his phone, determined to get an answer before the jeep turned out of the parking lot.

Okay, you got me. I don’t know what this means.

In the rearview mirror, brake lights bounced red off the puddles nearby; Flash waited, phone in hand, as the jeep hovered at the entrance to the street. His phone vibrated.

A donut emoji. My boyfriend is so sweet.

Boyfriend. He stared at the glowing pixels forming the word, making sure he hadn’t been the one to type it. The music in the back of his mind swelled and it took a minute for him to realize the Everfree jeep was still waiting.

You should eat it.

Can’t talk, driving. Call you later.

The jeep’s blinker flashed; they were the only two vehicles around, so either Timber was being extra responsible or it was like a little wave goodbye. Either was equally likely. He watched as the rearview lights turned out onto the street and turned at the intersection toward the highway out to Everfree.

He was dating a weirdo. A glib, frustrating, infuriating, gorgeous, intoxicating weirdo. Sighing wistfully, Flash smiled to himself before driving home.

Quietly creeping into his dark house, careful to avoid Banana’s squeaky toys littering the floor by the living room, he slipped the donut into the back of the fridge where Scout never rummaged for snacks, then went to quietly tell his parents he was home. Back when he and Sunset had been together he’d stayed out later than this– on occasion not coming home at all– so they were probably expecting more of the same with Timber. Neither of their sleepy replies seemed angry or worried, so he probably wasn’t in trouble.

Relieved, he made his way to his room and got ready for bed. Soreness was already starting to creep into his muscles from the ice skating, and he took a moment at the mirror before getting his pajamas on. There was definitely a bruise starting to show on his butt; that was going to make sitting through history class even more tedious than usual. But at least it would fade in a few days, unlike the doughy paunch around his middle.

Grimacing, he lightly pinched the skin by his navel, heart growing weary at the sight of it bulging between his fingers. Knowing it was futile, he turned to the side and sucked in as hard as he could, trying to convince himself that his old waistline was still there somewhere, and that maybe he could fake it on future dates. He thought briefly of the donut in the fridge and his stomach twinged hungrily at the idea. Then he thought of Timber’s physique as he had been ice skating and shut that down.

After a few minutes of stretching and definitely not replaying the feeling of Timber’s mouth against his on repeat, he pulled pajama bottoms on and covered his shameful gut with an old t-shirt. Out of sight, out of mind. He’d be sore tomorrow for sure, but that brief moment out on the ice with their arms around each other, Timber tired, shaking, sweating, and exhilarated— that had been worth it. Maybe not the last time he’d get to see him like that.

Boyfriendboyfriendboyfriend.

Pajamas on, he crawled under the chilly covers and waited for his body heat to warm them up— definitely not imagining how toasty warm it would feel to have a tall, sloppily beautiful boy cuddled up behind him. Shivering, he grabbed his phone and clicked through the texts he’d missed earlier (when he’d been making out with Timber-freaking-Spruce what even was his life becoming?).

Pinkie’s texts were frantic apologies sent after they’d left the diner— apologizing for ruining their date and pleading with him not to be too mad at her. Ouch. He’d make sure to find her before class tomorrow and let her know nobody was mad at her and the date had gone really well. Poor Pinkie.

Sunset’s text had an attachment that took a moment to load. Once it did, it proved to be a photo of him and Timber at Sweet Snacks from earlier. It looked like it had been taken from behind the counter so Sunset had probably gotten it from Pinkie. Timber had whipped cream and chocolate smeared on his face and Flash was clutching his stomach with his head thrown back in a peal of laughter. Around the edges of the frame were other customers glancing their way with varying degrees of mirth on their faces. It was a very strange feeling to realize how not private that whole evening was, and how unaware of everyone around them he’d been for most of it. Stranger still was seeing it captured by someone he hadn’t even realized had been paying attention at all. Seeing himself frozen, unknowing in a moment of pure emotion felt unnervingly exposed.

Sunset’s message accompanying it was brief, as was typical.

I can’t remember the last time I saw you that happy.

His breath hitched slightly reading it, and again while re-reading it. How long had it been? He didn’t even know. Generally he wasn’t unhappy, especially the past several months. But being actually happy, that wasn’t something he could pinpoint to himself either. That Sunset found this striking enough to comment on… well that wasn’t nothing.

Smiling to himself, knowing she’d still be up, his thumbs ticked over the onscreen keyboard.

Honestly? Same.

Only a moment later, a reply lit up his screen.

How’d it go?

Already sore and my butt hurts.

What?? Sentry, you dog!

What can I say? Ice skating’s harder than I remember.

She sent him a donkey emoji and he smothered his snickers as he typed back.

Huddled in his blanket cocoon, he and his best friend stayed up, as they had many nights before, gossiping about their crushes and keeping each other company. As it had been for some time, things felt like they were somehow climbing toward better.