Author's Note
Yahallo! I suck at writing romance but this idea came to mind when I saw the contest, so might as well, :3. Enjoy.
Eclipse
‘You look cute when you don’t wear your glasses.’
That’s how it started.
An innocent compliment, that, in any other relationship, wouldn’t give pause.
Of course, nothing in Twilight’s life was normal. Especially her dating life.
It shouldn’t have bothered her as much as she did. By itself, it wouldn’t have.
It was so, so many other things.
Twilight sat on the edge of her bed, her glasses sitting on her nightstand; a distorted reflection in the lens. She hissed as her feet touched the cold ground, frantically placing them in the fuzzy slippers she left there just for such a purpose.
Despite her tuition being well paid for via grants and scholarships, Twilight had left the heater off overnight; she didn’t want to cost the college any more than she had. That being said, she had no issue keeping it on while she was awake. Especially today, when the outside chill had seeped through the cracks of her dorm and made its home there.
Most of the time, the cold never bothered her. But today…she had a particular intolerance for it.
As she wiped her glasses, she peered outside the window; the parts that weren’t shrouded in frost, anyway. She could see almost the entirety of the campus, covered in a layer of snow that was at least ankle deep. Not that anyone was around to confirm that, considering it was the middle of Christmas break.
A flicker of doubt crossed her mind, making Twilight wonder if she should have gone home like most of the other students.
Then her phone vibrated, and she remembered why she decided to stay. Not that the thought had been particularly far from the forefront of her mind.
Sunset had texted her ‘Good Morning Gorgeous’, like she had every day since they became official. It used to make Twilight smile, and was a better start to her day than even coffee was.
Now, it hardly made her feel anything at all.
A few seconds passed of almost silence, the only sound was Twilight’s fervent typing of a message that had been floating in her head for the past few days. Her thumb hovered right over the send button, hesitance spreading through every nerve in her body.
For a moment, she asked herself if she should put it off for just one more day. What’s the harm in pretending everything was fine for just a day longer?
Then, Sunset sent another text. This one a bit flirtier than normal, for better or worse.
‘You looked prettier than usual yesterday, you should let your hair down more often. :).’
It was a compliment.
One of many, it was Sunset’s second love language. She complimented her every chance she got; it often made Twilight feel better about herself. It’d be a blatant lie if she didn’t feel that Sunset had raised her self esteem in ways she never could have done herself.
This compliment, though….it just left a bad taste on her tongue she couldn’t shake off.
Twilight picked up her phone, heavier in her hands than it had ever been.
‘We need to talk, can you come over?’
Twilight spent her time waiting making a cup of hot chocolate, the Keurig machine she got proving its worth in gold. She listened to the sound of it being brewed, staring at the mug she’d placed under it. She had picked it at random, giving it no more thought than what clothes she’d be wearing today.
It was yellow, with the words ‘#1 Twilight!’ engraved on the side. Sunset had it custom made for her birthday.
This was the last time she’d be using that particular mug.
With a rapt knocking beforehand, Sunset opened the door and let herself in. She wore that same winter outfit she always did: A green jacket with a pink turtleneck poking out around the collar, with slightly brighter pink gloves and jeans. The rips around the knee revealing a second pair of pants underneath.
“Oh wow, it’s really warm in here, Twi.” Sunset shut the door behind her, quickly slipping off her gloves and earmuffs, placing them on the desk beside her and sitting in the office chair that accompanied it.
She gripped the edges, lifting her feet and spinning in a circle. Sunset spun a few times before eventually slowing down, facing away from Twilight before adjusting it to turn to her; a small grin on her face as she chuckled.
God, she makes this so hard.
“Oh, is that hot chocolate?” Sunset leaned forward, lowering her legs back to the floor as she began taking off her boots. “Please tell me you made me some?”
“Oh, uhm,” Twilight brought her free hand to her glasses, about to adjust them before stopping herself. “No, sorry. I can get you one though. Hold on.”
She got one of her mugs from her well organized cabinet, picking a plain one this time. It only took her a few seconds for her to start the process, but she couldn’t bring herself to walk back to her chair.
Something about looking Sunset in the eyes kept her feet glued to the ground.
“So, what did you want to talk about?”
There it was.
And with that, the silence between them had become agonizingly awkward. It hadn’t been like that in a long time, not since before they started dating and were unbearably shy around each other. ‘Disaster lesbians’, is how Pinkie put it.
They’d always had a comfortable silence between them, no pressure to say anything at all.
She was going to miss that.
“I—” the Keurig began churning, small wisps of steam coming out from the top. “I don’t think this is working.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Sunset’s smile waver; head tilting like a puppy.
“No, it is. You put water in it and pressed the button. Come on, Twi. I’ve seen you work that thing like a thousan—”
“Not that.”
Despite the temperature in her room, the air was cold as Twilight sharply sucked it in. More silence, more tension.
Sunset’s hot chocolate was done.
Without a thought, she put in three marshmallows, a sprinkle of cinnamon, and just a little whipped cream.
“Oh wow, you remembered how I liked it?”
“Mhm.”
Twilight sat back down, watching as Sunset blew air on her drink before taking a sip. A line of whipped cream sticking to her upper lip.
It made Twilight smile, just a little.
“What’s not working then? Something you’re working on? I can help you out with the math if that's the issue.”
“No, it’s…” she shook her head, bringing a hand to her chest. “It’s us, Sunset. We’re not working.”
A moment of confusion, as fleeting as it was.
Then, apprehension. Sunset’s fingers pressed together, tightening on the mug as she held it tighter. Her eyebrows scrunched, and Twilight could practically hear the air hitch in her throat.
This was going exactly how Twilight pictured it would. That was the worst part.
Maybe she hated being right more than being wrong.
“W—what do you mean?”
She stuttered.
It was really rare for her to do that. Even when they were alone and she allowed herself to be vulnerable, there was still a certainty to her voice. That confidence faltered more with every note.
It was more grating than any discordant note.
“I mean,” Twilight bit her lip, a desperate attempt to keep some semblance of composure. “I can’t do this anymore. I can’t pretend like this relationship is more than it is; that there’s not a dead end at the end of this tunnel.”
“But…you,” Sunset’s breathing grew quick and shallow, her eyes squeezing shut. “We love each other. You’ve told me you love me, so many times.
Twilight laughed.
Why did she laugh?
“I do love you. Oh my god, do I love you.” Something warm ran down her cheek. Twilight was tempted to take off her glasses, but the thought of doing so made her heart hurt more than it already did. “You’re so beautiful, and you really do try your hardest to be better. Wallflower almost broke you, and now she’s one of your closest friends. I’m so–” She choked, the words heavy as they came out of her throat. “–so proud of you.”
“Then…” Sunset’s chin fell to her neck, her bangs nearly covering her eyes like a see-through curtain.”Why?”
“Because,” she wanted to grab her mug, just to have something to keep her hands busy. However, when she raised them to reach for it, she found she couldn’t stop them from shaking. “You don’t love me.”
“What!” Sunset practically jumped out of her chair, her hot chocolate spilling on the ground. It quickly began to pool around the floor, making a small, brown puddle at her feet.
Twilight barely batted an eye.
“How could you say that?!” Her hands tightened into fists, knuckles paling into a milky white. “We’ve been dating for two years! I’ve met your family, I’ve spent more time in your bed than my own, I’ve told you everything! I’ve…” Sunset’s knees began to shake, pressing her legs together with her arms draped at her side. “G—given you all of me. I’ve never loved anyone like I love you.”
Twilight’s fingers gripped her pants, nails digging into the fabric until it was starting to tear. There was the slightest taste of blood in her mouth, she hadn’t even noticed when she started biting her cheek.
“You don’t love me.” The room was colder by the second, in spite of the constant blowing of hot hair from the heater. “You love Twilight.”
“I don’t…” she squinted, mouth parting before pressing together in a line. Then, realization must have hit as her eyebrows raised, jaw clenching like a spring about to launch. “No. No, no, no! I am not in love with Twilight!” Sunset waved her arm, her eyes bulging as her head snapped back. “That’s absurd! Don’t you think if I wanted to date her, I would have at least tried!”
“No, Sunset, you wouldn’t. You revere her ever since The Fall Formal, the way your eyes light up when she’s brought up makes that evident.” Something unrecognizable slinked its way into Twilight’s voice. There was a heat in her cheeks, and a stinging in her chest. It hurt. “You don’t talk about any of our friends the way you talk about her.”
“Of course I do, she saved me! She gave me the chance to make things right with Celestia, with everyone.” Her hand slapped against her chest, her overcoat crinkling as she gripped it. “I don’t know where I’d be without her. Yeah, sure, I feel indebted, maybe. But in love with her? Why…” She ran her hands up her face, covering her eyes and only leaving her mouth and nose visible. “Would you think that?”
“Because she’s you!”
Twilight, with frustration coursing through her veins like a rancid poison, stood up. Her chair tipped over, the ends of her slippers dipped into the spilled cocoa; though she didn’t seem to notice.
Every breath came out of her mouth, heaving that did little to allieve squeezing on her heart. She felt hot, so irritatingly hot.
“Twilight Sparkle is everything you wanted to be: she’s Celestia’s star pupil, she’s an alicorn, she’s the element of magic, she has her own student! She’s…” Sunset’s entire posture dropped, hunching over and falling back into the chair. Burying her face further in her hands, and trembling.
She’d done that.
“You.”
The chair felt exceedingly cold, chillier than it was a few seconds ago.
“S—so,” Sunset audibly swallowed, followed by a sniffing noise as she rubbed her face in her sleeve. “You don’t think I can love you too?”
“I did. For a really long time, I thought, eventually, you’d stop loving her and love me instead. Maybe that was stupid and selfish of me.” She took off her glasses, flipping them around and staring at herself in the lens.
It was a lot more clear than earlier.
“You’re so kind, Sunset. You give me gifts, you’ve come over at a moment's notice whenever I needed you. Sometimes, I feel like you’re more than I deserve. But…” Her face felt impossibly rigid. Twilight poked at it, pinching it between her fingers and pulling in a hope that it would relax just a little. “You want me to be her, and I’m not. Even if I wanted to be, I can’t.”
“...What do you mean?”
Twilight raised the glasses, holding them halfway to her face as she kept her eyes locked on her reflection.
She’d never get used to the sensation of seeing both herself and someone who looks just like her, at the same time.
“You keep telling me how cute I am without my glasses, and how much you like it when I let my hair down. I know you mean well, you always do. But, everytime she comes up, you compare us in some way.”
“What? I don’t…” She placed a hand on the side of her head, eyes half closing as they dragged to the side. “You always told me that my compliments only made you uncomfortable because you didn’t know how to take them?”
“That was part of it, at first. For a while, I convinced myself that’s all it was.” Twilight placed one hand on top of another, her fingers pressing deeply enough into the skin to make indents. “I should have told you earlier, much earlier; that’s my own fault.”
“No, it’s mine. I could have paid more attention, I should have noticed. I—” She sucked on her teeth, her eyes moving back to Twilight. “There’s no excuse. I’m sorry, Twilight. I wouldn’t do that on purpose.”
“I know you wouldn’t. That’s why I never said anything before. I tried to ignore it. And that worked, for a while.” Twilight began to pick at the loose skin around her fingers, the nails already chewed down to nubs. “But, whenever she comes up, you always compare us in how similar we are. Our interest in magic, relationship with our family, our pets. Yet, over the years, you’ve never…” A strange gust came over her, despite all of her windows being closed. She wrapped her arms around herself, regretting not putting on a second layer of clothing like she’d considered. “Talked about how we’re different.”
“What? Of course I have!”
“Then tell me, right now.” They locked eyes, for just a moment. Twilight saw something she desperately didn’t to; a gleam of doubt in her lovers eyes. “What do you love about me? What do I have that she doesn’t?”
It made her viscerally uncomfortable, but Twilight held her gaze.
“You’re…” Sunset winced, wringing her wrist. “Snarky, sometimes; in a cute way! And you try so hard to make sense of things, even if they don’t in the first place. And, y—you’re…” She fidgeted, her lips pursing together.
And then…silence.
Like creeping shadows, the corners of Twilight’s lips turned upward.
“Twilight, I promise, I can get over this.”
Sunset stood up again, placing her hands on Twilight’s shoulders. It was warm, so suffocatingly warm.
Twilight couldn’t stop herself from raising her own hand, placing it on top of Sunset’s.
“I know you can. That’s what I love so much about you; you try so hard to be the best version of yourself. But,” As gently as she could manage, Twilight removed Sunset’s hands, guiding them back to her chest. She had a much harder time letting go of them than she expected. “I don’t think you can do that while we’re together. It’d be too hard for you. And…for me.”
A guttural, squeak-like noise came from the back of her throat; like a dying chew toy. She opened and closed her mouth countless times, before slumping and stepping to the desk. Sunset grabbed her gloves, slipping them on one finger at a time. A hesitance was obvious in every movement, even as she brought the earmuffs to her head.
“Can we,” Sunset’s hands were stuck to the edges of the desk, nails biting into the wood. “Can we still be friends?”
“Of course, I just,” Her clothes felt tight. She couldn’t quite catch her breath. “Need time. Ok?”
A grating scratching noise, before Sunset stepped away from the desk. She gave Twilight a shaky, half-hearted smile that trembled at the corners.
“Always.”
Sunset made her way to the door, opening it and stopping halfway through. She turned her head, lips parsing once more, before closing again.
What was there left to say?
Twilight found herself counting Sunset’s steps as they echoed throughout the hallway, growing more and more distant until the quiet took over. She was tempted to walk to her window and watch her drive away on her motorcycle, but her gut told her that was a bad idea.
A minute passed before she could finally breathe, dropping her gaze to the now undoubtedly cold pool of hot chocolate; the marshmallows laying on the surface like parts of a boat washed to shore.
She retrieved a washcloth from the bathroom, wasting no time in cleaning up the mess. It was cathartic in its own way. Everything had its place, a state of being, and a level of cleanliness Twilight could tolerate. All of which her room always was.
So, once the pool was clean, she brought the washcloth back to the bathroom to be properly wringed out. She set it on her bathroom hanger, where she then promptly crouched down to the toilet and threw up.
There was little in her stomach anyway.
Still, she sat on the cold floor, her diaphragm sore and tears streaming down her face; only half of which from her retching. Twilight couldn’t even make it to the sink, flipping over on her back and sobbing uncontrollably.
Now, more than ever, she wished she’d brought Spike as her emotional support animal like Fluttershy once suggested.
