Rarity watched the rain out the window.
“And it’s my future I’m building, but it’s going to help children all over the world. That’s—I’m so honoured, and speechless, and—is this love?”
Rarity smiled. “If it isn’t, I don’t know what is.”
“Love or not, I love it,” Twilight said, the sparkle still in her eyes. “Paradoxical it may sound.”
“It sounds like you’re all set to moi. I’m so happy for you, I doubt even you could put it in words.”
The sparkles dissolved into a starry, rainy night in Twilight’s eyes—paradoxical it may sound. “Oh, Rarity, I—you’re so—can we hug? Is this where we hug because I’m going to cry—”
With a sighing laugh—for someone who knew more than everyone, Twilight was always so adorably unsure—Rarity tucked Twilight into a warm hug. Twilight responded with fumbling and laughter of her own.
“I’ll miss you guys.”
“I’m sure Pinkie will make sure you don’t.”
It wasn’t what Rarity wanted to say—you wouldn’t if you didn’t put your studies before us—but it was what she knew Twilight needed to hear.
Rainbow flicked a card at Sunset’s six-story card castle, knocking it down in a cascade of you’re so dead, Dash.
“Great! Snack time now, right?” Pinkie piped, hopping so quick her curls fell in on themselves. “Right right RIGHT?!”
“Right!” Rainbow hollered, jumping off the desk with more force than she needed and knocking down the cards that Rarity had just picked up.
Pinkie then yodeled her agreement in an impressively high and powerful vibrato, spinning forward in fast circles until she hit the doorframe. She staggered back dizzily, and Rainbow, almost seized with laughter, patted her on the back and ushered her out.
Sunset chuckled and shook her head, bending down to help Rarity pick up the cards. She caught her eye, paused, and then both laughed louder, together.
“That looked like it hurt,” Sunset managed through breaths, reaching blindly for cards.
“Oh, she’s got the skull of a jawbreaker,” Rarity assured, grasping for cards until her hand met Sunset’s.
They paused, looking silently at each other for a moment before Rarity quietly added, “You should have told me how you felt earlier, Sunset.”
The two fell into a final fit of laughter, Rarity squeezing Sunset’s hand before they quickly piled all the cards together neatly.
“Well, we’d better join them before Pinkie eats the table whole, bless her soul.” Then, as an afterthought, “Rainbow’s probably cheering her on.”
“Yeah,” Sunset said, walking with her to the door. “But she’ll learn, give her time.”
“Hmm?” Rarity blurted, and added a short titter to sound more natural about it.
“Dash. For the whole…card thing.” Sunset stopped just short of the door, Rarity doing the same, and waved her fingers in the air awkwardly. “That made more sense to say in my head, but I guess it sounded more like a threat out loud.” Then, with too much perkiness, she added, “Like old me.”
“Oh, all in good fun, Darling. Don’t hang yourself up on those things.” When we’re so close to leaving it behind anyway, Rarity didn’t mention.
Sunset smiled widely, almost laughing. “Nah, I’m over all that. Like, not in an, ‘I’m better than all that’ sort of way, but…in an, ‘I’m better than all that’ sort of way.” She creased her brow, but the smile remained. “You get it, right?”
She did; it was the words and how they were said. Better, all that.
You.
“Oh, absolutely.” You get it. “Because we’re in love, right?”
Sunset rolled her eyes. “Yeah, of course.”
Rarity turned to leave, figuring they were done with the conversation, but Sunset continued in a tone that said you need to hear this.
“Pinkie’ll learn, too. About growing up; she’ll calm down—but still be herself. Like us.”
And she spoke so much like a caring teacher would speak about their favourite students’ future that Rarity wished they were still laughing over stupid fake love.
When Rarity was younger, she would wrap her hair in a dozen curlers every evening and would go to school every morning with her hair looking naturally arrondi.
They made her look older, feel more mature.
She hated rainy days back then, because the damp air would ruin her curls and thereby ruin her day.
Nowadays, staring distantly into the mirror, it was easier to wake up an hour earlier and simply use the curling iron.
Applejack just didn’t understand.
“All I’m saying is you’re wasting your money on all those fancy-shmancy home décor stuff. You never use ‘em anyway! You jus’ like the shopping part.”
Rarity agreed completely, but she only told Applejack about how much she liked getting out and about.
“Yeah, go out jus’ta get back inside a busy building?” Applejack threw her arms out. “Come out here and breathe some fresh air, it’ll do you good for absolutely free.”
But the farm was still a part of the town, and Rarity found she was always bought ornaments that had some sort of far, foreign inspiration.
“It’s a small town,” she said instead.
“I know. I‘ve been here my whole life, jus’ like Granny,” Applejack pointed out, casually skipping over a generation.
Which was just fine; Applejack and her mother and her mother could find peace in knowing where the future would find them. That was less exciting, and that was just the way some people liked it.
“By the way,” Applejack said in a way that almost suggested she hadn’t been thinking over these things for the past few months, “Did I tell ya? Big Mac found a place up north from here, been spending the year expandin’ the farm there.”
“Is that so?” Rarity asked, just as offhandedly.
“Yeah. If you really wanna get out, come visit with me for a while. You don’t got nothing to do over the summer, right?”
Rarity wanted to point out the double negative, or mention the coming college tours and events she was invited to. “I’m mostly free.”
“Great,” Applejack dusted her jeans off, then looked at Rarity and smiled sincerely. “You can even help me set up my new room; it’s all shaped weirdly, and Mac says it’s bigger, but I think it’s a waste of space if all’s it gonna go to is the fifty corners.”
Applejack had an opinion on everything, and had a habit of being pretty open about it.
But that was old news; this was new: “You don’t really need to worry if it’s only for the summer.”
Applejack picked at her worn jeans again. She never listened when Rarity called the place a Dirty Manure Farm. “Well, I don’t know how long I’m gonna be there. Don’t really matter, don’t need to come back here after school’s done an’ all.”
“Fair enough,” but Rarity hated how taut her voice sounded.
“It's even quieter up there, y’know?”
“Anywhere is without Pinkie.”
Applejack snorted a laugh, which was her unguarded way of saying everything's all good now, huh?
“Don't tell her 'bout it, though.” Applejack touched the brim of her hat, lifted it a bit. Rarity distantly noticed her freckles were fading. “Figure it's easiest for everyone if I wait it out.”
Rarity nodded, added the info to her list of growing don't tell everyones that was starting consist of everyone, and smiled a porcelain smile that hadn't quite cracked yet.
“What?” Applejack said with a chuckle, sounding so relieved she got something of her chest. “What's the smile for? I told the wrong person to keep a secret, didn't I?”
Rarity winked. “I'm just filling the gossip mill. By the way, white chiffon curtains with apples on it.”
“What’s the catch?”
“Van gogh-style apples.”
She shook her head, still grinning. “Hey, I trust you to it.”
Rarity tried hard not to think useless thoughts, but she couldn’t help think that, for someone who pegged herself on honesty, Applejack really took her time opening up on this.
And if it bothered Applejack that the things they were saying meant they’d barely ever see each other again, she was a far better actress than Rarity for not showing it.
Rarity used to have the most absurd dreams—chandeliers springing to musical life in the middle of haunted houses made of tarot cards, or something to that ilk—but lately found herself waking up to the same ceiling.
Felt like blinking, really. No peace of mind, no rest in-between. Life never stopped, even when nothing really happened.
It was because she was growing up, she reasoned—because growing also meant not throwing dramatic fits and instead reasoning things through—and was therefore a good sign.
Still, she missed confiding those crazy inner-mind visions in Fluttershy; it made her feel like, under all the prim and proper, there was still something magical underneath.
But paperwork and applications and university weren't magical, and neither was growing up.
We'll still keep in touch, hang out all the time! Pinkie assured them when she and Fluttershy both mentioned their graduation plans—the former to move downtown for a professional baking internship and the latter to spend the year travelling, broadening her horizons. You won't even know we're gone!
“That's what Dad said when Mom left, but I've never even met my step-sister, and she's graduating next year.”
Rarity sighed. She didn’t need to wear her lipstick smile around Rainbow Dash; hands stuffed in pockets, shrugging without a care, that girl didn’t notice much outside of herself anyway, and didn’t care what she saw when she did.
“Hey, I think I'm finally okay with the whole divorce thing now. Y’know, ten years later.”
“Is that so?”
“Yeah, ‘cause now I only have one parent to disappoint!” She laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world.
Perhaps it was.
“I'm sure it's not that bad, Sweetheart.”
“Oh, it's bad,” Rainbow said, wide-eye and smiling. “I have no idea what I’m gonna do after graduation. I keep telling everyone I'm gonna take a break to train for soccer or something, but let's be real: that's not gonna go anywhere.”
And it unsettled Rarity, that Rainbow could accept defeat so easily.
That wasn't something that was there before: Rainbow Dash never gave in, she kicked and shoved and made things work. My way or the highway, but my way’s faster.
But maybe that wasn’t what bothered her—pick your fights, cut your losses, grow up—maybe it was just that Rainbow Dash was starting to sound just like Rarity, and that bothered her.
“But, don't tell anyone, 'kay? It's not even all that important.” Rainbow chuckled again, and scratched the back of her neck nervously.
One more to the gossip mill. “Are you forgetting something?”
“Huh?” Rainbow raised her eyebrows, and Rarity pointed to the red thread tied in a neat knot around her pinky finger. “Oh, that. Nah, that was Fluttershy.”
She said it as if that explained everything, and Rarity took some solace in knowing that, to her, it did.
“To be honest,” Rainbow said, in a soft voice that Rarity wasn’t used to hearing from her. “We’re all prob’ly gonna lose touch sooner or later, but…I don’t wanna lose Fluttershy.” She leveled Rarity with a steady look. “I learned how to let people go, but—I dunno, she’s always been there; been in my life longer than my mom, and I-I just want…”
Rarity listened, and mostly watched Rainbow’s face struggle with totally not tearing up, that’s so not cool.
“I just want her to stay. That’s cool, right?”
Sometimes, Rarity decided, it was okay to not be yourself for a moment.
Applejack was honest, but Sunset had a way of making one think they were wrong.
“Your face will stick if the wind changes.”
Rarity snapped out of her reverie—she was staring at the application forms but the font danced in circles. “Unlucky for me, this spring is all wind and rain.”
“Lucky for you, your face is a pretty one to stick with.” Sunset winked with a devil’s smile.
Rarity would later miss the banter, but she didn’t miss a beat. “Then I’ll keep it forever, for you, dearest.”
Which, as she was learning, was impossible. Nothing stayed forever.
Sunset laughed as she scanned over the form on Rarity’s desk. Then, in her thinking-out-loud voice, “You chose the business major in the end, huh?”
“It’s the most convenient in every way, actually.” Close by, small class sizes, comfortable familiarity. “I think it’s where I can combine my love for sewing and my need for money.”
Sunset smiled in response, but it didn’t meet her eyes. “Playing it safe.”
“Well, I’m taking enough of a gamble on falling for you, I may as well find some solidity.”
“Fair enough.” When Sunset looked up, she almost lost the smile. “I just always thought you’d go overseas to Paris or something and get crazy successful crazy fast. You know, be the exception.” She shrugged. “It’s more like you; it’s what I’ve always loved about you.”
And no matter how much Rarity wanted to say, Yes, well, things change, people do, don’t you have somewhere to go, she defaulted to an easy smile. “I just couldn’t stand the thought of being so far away from you.”
Applejack was honest, Sunset had a way of making one thing they were wrong, and Rarity was finding it hard not to think selfish thoughts these days.
Sometimes, Rainbow would tell Rarity all those small things she always thought were too lame and wussy to say out loud.
She said them in words that were clumsy and all her, sentences like, It’s cool to like applause and stuff, right? People do that sort of thing to make people feel good, so it’s cool, y’know?, or It’s all right if I don’t tell Fluttershy I don’t like anything she does, right? ‘Cause, like, I don’t want her to feel like we’re just friends because we were before. ‘C-cause we’re not, right?.
Rarity listened, and mostly all she ever heard was how wrapped up Rainbow Dash was in what was right.
More than that, she noticed how much Rainbow expected Rarity to know what was right.
Sweetie Belle came to her room one evening, just before Rarity started losing focus on her knitting again.
She looked unhappy, and when Rarity gently prodded, she simply said, “I’m sorry I take your love for granted.”
Rarity moved to sit on her bed, and Sweetie took her place beside her. “Whatever do you mean, Sweetie?”
“It’s just—” and she took a breath before rushing everything out at once, “Apple Bloom was telling me how much she’s gonna miss Applejack when she leaves, and then all the other kids said their older siblings were all going to be leaving or too busy for them and I know you wanted to go study in France or something but you stayed, and—”
Rarity set down her knitting, watching Sweetie fill herself up with tears.
“—and-and-and you stayed here, and I didn’t know why but you stayed to be with us and I didn’t know—you never told me you loved me more than yourself and your future and your happiness and I’m sorry I never do anything back, I’ll-I’ll be a better sister, I promise—and I want you to know I love you too!”
She sounded accusing and miserable at once, and she hugged Rarity as though telling her these things might make her leave.
Rarity felt bad for smiling, but it was a watery smile that would ruin the makeup she still hadn’t taken off, so she decided that evened out it. She hugged Sweetie back, kissed her head—was she using Rarity’s favourtie conditioner again?—and hummed quietly.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sweetie squeaked, indignant and crying and trying not to add stupid because she wasn’t ever going to call her sister that again, ever.
“It means I love you, too.”
“I just said that!”
“Is it too much if I pick up a souvenir at each city for Dash? I don’t want her to think I can’t learn to grow up or be independent, but I don’t want to lose touch either.”
Rarity should have said something consoling. But then, Fluttershy wasn’t supposed to be saying this much at all.
“I know she would love to get those little antiques from old shops, and I could find a few rare indie 80s records here and there, too.”
Later, Rarity would tell herself she was young and selfish and so full of secrets already that she was allowed to make these kinds of mistakes.
Now, in her most innocent voice, she told Fluttershy, “Darling, have you even met Rainbow Dash? She hates 80s music.”
While everyone complained about the excessively rainy weather lately, Rarity couldn't bring herself to agree.
Out loud, she did—absolutely dreary, Dearie—but when she sat in her room, losing count of how many rows of pearls she did, she found peace in the quiet pitter-patter of the rain against her window.
They had gone dress shopping—we’re not driving you crazy this time, Rarity, you gotta focus on exams!—as a group, which mostly stayed in three separate groups that lost each other when Pinkie heard the ice cream truck and Twilight saw a children’s clinic.
Two hours later, Rarity and Twilight found Sunset and Rainbow Dash at a trick shop, with a text notifying them that Applejack had the situation finally under control, and that Pinkie would stop trying to sneak into the parlour still under renovation.
As they waited, Sunset and Twilight chatted up an intelligent storm that threatened to doom all lesser beings. Rainbow stood off to the side, and when Rarity joined her—Darling, that face will stick when the wind changes—mumbled something about being tired and a little too stupid.
“I think you’re your own brand of intelligent.”
“So why’re you standing here with me?”
“Sulking, mostly. My one and only seems to have found a better match.” But the thing about inside jokes, much like secrets, was that only those who were privy to them could laugh.
Rainbow didn’t look like she wanted to laugh, anyway. Instead, she clicked her tongue and looked at her shoes. “Yeah, mine too.”
Rarity just watched. Rainbow looked at her, shrugged, and shifted in spot. “I think Fluttershy’s gonna give me the boot.”
“Is that so?”
“Yeah, prob’ly…” Here, Rainbow laughed humourlessly. “Prob’ly easier this way, right? For both of us. Grow up, move on. Long distance relationships are complicated, y’know?”
Rarity didn’t know, couldn’t say what was right, but she knew relationships were complicated, friends were complicated, life was a combination of all the complicated things in the world.
“Friends aren’t,” she lied out loud. Rainbow raised her eyebrows like Rarity told a lame joke.
“They are.”
“Are they?”
“Yeah they are.” They both chuckled softly, then Rainbow crossed her arms. The knot on her finger was gone—Rarity figured it was gone a long time ago; it was symbolic and wearing it continually would defeat the purpose—“It’s not like she even said anything, but…we just don’t talk much anymore. A fallout, y’know?”
“If you don’t want it to happen, you should talk to her about it.” Rarity smiled. “Fast and simple.”
“Maybe,” Rainbow mumbled in a tone that said prob’ly not instead.
Before Rarity could get another word in, Pinkie’s unmissable skip-stomping caught their attention. They watched as Applejack, Pinkie, and Fluttershy filed in, joining Sunset and Twilight before launching into a loud, animated summation of events.
Quickly enough, Sunset motioned to the bag Fluttershy carried, and a little more prodding led her into showcasing the long, elegant dress inside.
And for a long, quiet moment, Rainbow Dash just looked.
Wordlessly, vacantly, she looked.
Then, before Rarity could speak, Rainbow simply mumbled, “I don’t like satin dresses.”
It was raining again.
Rarity was on her way back from an evening interview with the manager Sunset knew at the department store, wearing her best trench coat and carrying her fancy umbrella when she felt the drops fall in quickly.
As the few people out cleared the streets, she opened her umbrella, hiding under it—her hair may have been safe in a tight bun but her eyeliner was on point and too easy to smudge—and continued walking briskly to the beat of the Prince song she was listening to. She had to get home as soon as possible and—
Well.
Knit that scarf she started in Fall and just couldn’t seem to finish? Agonise over acceptance conditions? Worry about all the things she had no control over?
Rarity stopped.
Well, why not? She had been doing all those things since October anyway. Nothing ever changed, really.
But when she really thought about it—and she really did—everything was changing, and maybe digging her feet into the mundane routine she foind herself in was her way of trying to keep things grounded, familiar.
Rarity breathed in damp evening air. Her earphones went silent for a moment, changing songs.
It wasn’t a very upbeat song that queued next, but it made Rarity want to dance.
And as soon as she shut her umbrella and started to slowly spin, she almost laughed.
She probably looked insane; she hadn’t danced in Heaven knows how long, and the laughing didn’t help one bit, but it helped so much to just hear her own laugh.
She had a job, a family that loved her. She was miserable now.
Feeling reckless abandonment settle in, Rarity brushed her soaking, uncurling hair out of her eyes, probably smearing eyeliner with it.
Her friends were all going off, finding themselves and eventually, happily finding other people. She was miserable now.
Rarity breathlessly stopped under a streetlight, watched the raindrops glitter underneath it—she’d seen this starry, rainy night before—and cried.
There were always more questions than answer; growing up just meant accepting that and—and a lot more things she was still learning. And if sometimes, she wasn’t herself for a moment, or she made a guilty mistake, or whatever, maybe that was all a part of growing up, a part of living life all together.
Dancing in the rain under the streetlight solved absolutely nothing, and would leave her with a cough for a few days at best, but just like all the other little moments, Rarity lived it.