Around Midnight

It was over.

The night had been long. It had been life-changing. It had been devastating. It had been renewing.

Somehow, it had ended with joy.

Yet amidst the celebrating, two girls had retreated to the bleachers, sitting alone. Five others had offered to join them, but had been politely declined. A loyal dog had remained down below with the dean, as requested.

Sunset knew Twilight needed room to breathe. She sat about half a meter from her, far enough that Twilight wasn’t trying to inch away anymore. Occasionally, she looked toward the crowd of students below, who were slowly trickling away to go home, as casual as if there had been nothing unusual at all. But mostly, she kept her eyes trained on Twilight.

They hadn’t said anything since sitting down. Twilight seemed to be staring at a particular point in the air, even though there was seemingly nothing special to notice. It took Sunset a moment to recognize that it was right over the center of the courtyard – and right where the device had detonated.

She’d noticed Twilight had also shifted forward a few times, as though trying to make sure her back wouldn’t rest against the bleachers. Sunset had a suspicion as to why.

One thing was certain – Sunset wasn’t thinking of her like the Princess anymore.

She thought back to her own night. When she’d finally returned to her apartment after hours of bricklaying, aching all over, the scars beneath her shoulders still horribly fresh. She’d let out a primal scream, smashed nearly everything in sight that was smashable, cranked her shower to the hottest and highest-intensity settings, and sat in it, sobbing uncontrollably, as the water blasted down on her.

The emotions were there, she knew, inside Twilight. They were fighting to rise to the surface, as the shock wore off and the horrible sense of comprehension replaced it.

A telltale tremble told Sunset she might not have long to wait before that happened.

As the noise from below continued to die down, Sunset heard a buzz; the source became clear when Twilight took out her phone, quickly typing something before putting it back.

Sunset ventured a question. “Do you have a ride home?”

Twilight nodded. “My brother. He works late, but he’s on his way over. My parents are out of town.”

After a moment, Twilight shuddered violently. Sunset scooted a bit closer.

“My parents,” Twilight repeated, her voice quavering. “What am I gonna tell them? What will I tell Shiny? I– I can’t…”

Twilight’s hands clenched into fists, and she pressed them into her forehead as she began to heave.

“Nonononono… I just wanted to get away, and all I did was hurt people… I hurt everyone! What have I done? Why couldn’t I say no? I was a monster– I am a monster!”

Having now closed most of the distance between them, Sunset considered reaching out and placing a hand on Twilight’s shoulder. But it only took a quick thought back to that night for Sunset to reconsider how much the gesture would be appreciated. At this stage, if someone had done that to her, Sunset probably would have bitten off a finger; Twilight would more likely just run away again.

She couldn’t risk Twilight running.

Instead, she just spoke. “Twilight, you’re not a monster. Trust me.”

Lifting her head off her hands, Twilight stared at her – into her. “How can you say that? How… how can you even want to help me? You were right, I put your friends’ lives in danger! And now I put the whole world in danger!”

There were tears welling up in Twilight’s eyes, and it hurt to see them. Just as it hurt to hear her voice melt into a blubber.

“I knew it was wrong! I s-saw what that thing I made was doing, I listened to wh-what you said—and I wanted to fix it! I wanted to come and find you! But then Cinch f-found me first and… I failed. I let them control me. I didn’t fight. I c-could’ve said no, but I didn’t. What does it m-matter if I didn’t mean it? It still happened. Because you were right. I’m not smart. I didn’t think, and now… n-now…”

From behind the glasses, liquid streamed down Twilight’s face. She was hyperventilating; she tried to keep speaking, but no words could get past the rapid, gasping breaths. Her hands were clasping her temples, and though it was hard to tell in the dim lighting, Sunset could see what looked like snot running down from her nose.

At this point, there was little chance of Twilight running, if only because she physically couldn’t. Sunset seized the moment, scooting directly next to Twilight and pulling her into a hug. Unable to resist, Twilight reciprocated, burying her head in Sunset’s shoulder. Sunset pressed her arms tight around the shaking body, keeping them lower to avoid where it was likely most tender.

Ugly, agonized sobs coursed out of Twilight, and Sunset absorbed each and every one of them.

It hurt. It hurt to hear, and it hurt to feel. But it had to happen. She knew it must. She’d been there before. And she’d been alone.

She couldn’t let Twilight be alone through this.

At some point, following what must have been at least several minutes and felt far longer, she started to feel things calm down. Twilight’s breathing was relaxing, her body stilling. After a few moments, though, there was another surge, and the sobs were even heavier than before.

Even as her shoulder began to ache, and even as her heart broke, Sunset took it. “Let it out,” she said. “Let it all out.”

At this point, there were only a few students remaining below. Some looked, some for too long, but Sunset deployed a vicious glare that sent most of them retreating. At one point, Rarity started to climb up toward them, but Sunset waved her away. She had no doubts at this point about Rarity’s ability to comfort, but she couldn’t ask Twilight to empty her soul out to two strangers in one night.

Eventually, the stop-restart cycle concluded, and Twilight’s breathing issues were reduced to a recurring hiccup. She pulled her head back, her cheeks lined with wet streaks, her eyes raw and red as her glasses slid from her bangs down to their proper position.

As she looked closely, Sunset could still see a glimpse of the Princess in this Twilight. The earnesty with which she expressed herself, the weight of responsibility in her words, the shame that ate at her when she disappointed herself. And yet they were still so far apart, in a different way than Sunset had realized. So… haunted. Crushed. Absolutely defeated in a way she couldn’t imagine the Princess ever being, even in her darkest hour.

This was a Twilight who’d never found the Magic of Friendship. Who’d given up on ever finding it.

All of you reached out to her, and I chased her away.

The guilt throbbed in Sunset’s head, but she drew her focus elsewhere, determined not to let it get to her. Self-flagellation wouldn’t help Twilight.

Instead, she focused on something else that had been said that evening, something that had already been her guiding principle at her most critical moment.

Just do what Twilight would do for you.

As Twilight sniffled and tried to manage her hiccup, Sunset gave the kindest smile she could muster. “Did you want me to answer your question?”

“Qu-Question?”

“About why I want to help you.”

“Oh…”

Sunset relaxed her grip, so that Twilight could withdraw if she wished. She didn’t, and held herself close to Sunset, who felt a swell of confidence.

“You’ve felt alone for a long time, haven’t you?” Sunset asked. “When you talk about wanting to get away, I can hear it. You and I aren’t exactly the same, I’ll admit, but there’s a lot there that’s familiar. Getting shunned hurts.”

Twilight looked baffled. “Who would shun you? You– you were an angel!”

That remark got Sunset to jolt. She hadn’t exactly gotten the chance to look in the mirror during her transformation that night, but if Twilight was being literal… angel was definitely something to dwell on later. “Maybe,” she said, “but once not so long ago, I was a demon in more ways than one. And when I tried to change that, I wasn’t accepted for a long time. I’d earned that, unlike you, but it hurt. If things hadn’t turned out the way they did at the Battle of the Bands, I’d probably have done anything to get away from my school, too.”

Sunset took one of her hands from Twilight’s back and clasped it around a purplish arm. Twilight glanced down, startled, but ultimately didn’t resist, looking back up toward Sunset. There was the barest hint of a smile on her face, which was enough to glue Sunset’s heart back together.

“But the reason I’m here today,” Sunset went on, “is because there are people who didn’t give up on me. And I can tell you don’t have that. Not your classmates, and definitely not that principal.” She felt a shudder from Twilight that more than confirmed the depth of that statement’s accuracy. “And I want to help. I want to be that person who can be there for you. I know who Twilight Sparkle is. I know she’s a good po– person. I know she’s smart. I know she’s strong. And I know she’s not a monster. She never has been.”

Twilight frowned, sliding her arm out of Sunset’s grip. “You must be thinking of a different Twilight Sparkle, then.”

“Maybe,” Sunset replied. “But I like this one, too. And I don’t think I’m wrong about her.”

A look of confusion crossed Twilight’s face, but it didn’t last long when Sunset once again pulled her in tight with both arms. She felt a momentary squirm, but it soon gave way to a hug in return.

There was a whisper in Sunset’s ear. “Thank you.”

And then there were tears in Sunset’s eyes, too.

All happy moments must come to a close, and eventually, Twilight’s phone buzzed once more to alert her that her brother was moments from pulling into the parking lot. Their embrace ended, but the bond forged that night would only grow from there.

Sunset asked for Twilight’s phone number, and quickly received it. She wished her a good night’s rest, one that Twilight would be unlikely to get but had more than earned. Twilight asked how Sunset was getting home, and while Sunset assured her she could handle the trek back to her apartment, Twilight insisted her brother would be willing to drive her home. Eventually, she acquiesced.

Before she left with Spike, Twilight spoke briefly to Dean Cadance. She was assured that Cinch would not be coming back.

Before she put her phone away, Sunset sent one message to Pinkie Pie. She thanked her for everything.

And finally, Twilight Sparkle and Sunset Shimmer clasped their hands together, and walked towards their future.