What did she need? The question plagued her thoughts as she walked down the street, but there was only one thing that came to mind. Well, one person, anyway. But you can't have her and she isn't what you need right now. But she was. Sunset felt it with her very being. What you need is to accept the fact that—No. She didn't have to accept anything. She couldn't. Can't you?
Sunset bit into her pastry. Its flaky crust broke apart in her mouth, overwhelming her taste buds with the sweetness of the jelly inside. After she swallowed, she felt the bite sit heavy in her stomach. She glanced at the pastry and felt queasy. So she placed it back in the bag. Maybe she'd feel like eating it later.
She passed by several eccentric shops, barely paying them much attention until she came across the one at the end of the street. Quills and Sofas was the name painted on the wood sign that hung above the shop's door. Which claimed to only sell quills and sofas. It was so strangely specific that when she and Twilight saw its grand opening months ago, they had to see for themselves if it was true.
It was, hilariously enough. Sunset smiled at the recollection. They spent most of that afternoon in the store, testing out the various couches and peering at shelves lined with quills. Most would find a store like it boring, but when she was with Twilight everything seemed… more. More enjoyable, more fun, more happy. They even bought a pair of matching quills to commemorate the visit, Sunset keeping hers on the desk in her bedroom.
But this store was also one of the last ones they passed before getting on the bus the day of the accident. Sunset remembered there had been a sale on quills, buy one get two free. And she'd asked why Twilight couldn't tell her what she wanted to tell her now. She also recalled Twilight playing with her hands. 'It-It's just really important that I tell you there. So can we go? Please?'
How could she say no? Especially since her response caused Twilight to flash her a shy smile that made her heart flutter. Perhaps if she had said no then Twilight would still be alive and she could still see her smile. You can't play that game. You'll lose every time. But hadn't she already lost? She could still feel the prickle of the first rain drops...
If she'd known what would happen that day, she'd never have agreed to go to their spot. But you can't predict what's going to happen at any given moment. You know this to be true. Besides, you know full well that you'd never be able to say no to her when she asked for something in that shy way she sometimes spoke. Stop blam—What did Twilight want to tell her?
Sunset racked her mind, trying to guess what Twilight's words could've been for what felt like the thousandth time. It was futile. So why do you torture yourself with attempts to figure it out? Maybe you should let it go. Whether you know what she wanted to say or not won't change anything.
She sighed, turning from the store window, continuing home. While she knew nothing would change—could change, the question haunted her. Twilight's words mattered for the roll they played in her death. But now they were lost.
What would her words change if you learned them? Would everything make sense? Would you have peace of mind? Would anything change at all? Sunset stopped at the crosswalk, waiting for the light to turn. In truth, she had no idea what she'd d—Yes you do. You'd crucify yourself further no matter what she wanted to say. Please let this go. There's no need for you to keep torturing yoursel—the signal turned.
And so she did. But she never stopped thinking about Twilight's words the rest of the way to her apartment. Her mind was so wrapped up in the possibilities that she accidentally dropped her key.
“Ah, Sunset, I'm glad I caught you!”
Sunset was thankful that her face wasn't visible when she heard the voice of her landlord, Silver Coin. Otherwise, she feared that she'd cringe at her presence. All she wanted was to be alone now, but she took a quick breath and plastered what hopefully passed as an adequate smile on her face before she turned around.
“Hi, Miss Coin,” she said.
“It's good to see you out and about. So are you leaving or did you just get back?”
“I just got back.” Sunset picked up her key.
“Ah, I see.” Silver Coin nodded. “I'm sure the fresh air did you good.”
It didn't. But there was no reason to tell her that. “Did you need me for something?” Her words sounded a little more impatient than she intended. However, she just wanted to go home and—Cut yourself off from the world again—sleep.
If Silver Coin noticed her tone, she didn't show it. “Yes. I wanted to discuss your rent due at the end of the week.”
“Oh...” You forgot again didn't you? Sunset wanted to kick herself. You don't even have the money.
“Look, I can give you one more week if you need it.”
Relief coursed through Sunset's veins. “I'd appreciate it.” Then the guilt set in. And you still won't be able to pay her. What then? She's already been kinder to you than she needs to be.
When Silver Coin turned to leave, Sunset said, “Thank you.”
“You're welcome,” Silver Coin said. “I know you've been through a lot these past couple weeks. Which makes me wonder. Sunset, do you have anyone to help you?”
Smile. “I don't need any help”—liar—“I'm fine.”
Silver Coin nodded slowly. “I'll see you next week then.”
She unlocked the door to her apartment and tossed the pastry bag into the trashcan on the way to her bedroom where she flopped face first onto the bed. Embracing her pillow, she stared at the clock sitting on the nightstand through half-lidded eyes. Each minute that passed by her, she felt her shell of a world fracture further, and she was powerless to stop it.
You know that's not true. You have the power to heal. All you have to do is try, push forward with your friends. But that was her problem. She didn't want to try. The world could threaten to consume her, and she wouldn't fight it. All she wanted to do was rest.