//------------------------------// // 13: The Storm (Pt. 1) // Story: Blooming // by Bookish Delight //------------------------------// The one thing Juniper had failed to warn Wallflower about regarding Cinnamon Paradise was its wait time.  All of its pastries were custom made to order on-site, which sounded great for most situations, except for the one where you were already salivating, and just wanted to eat something already, darn it all. Making small talk with Juniper about recent movies, and hearing her flex her knowledge about box office market trends, certainly helped to distract Wallflower from the feel—and noise—of her stomach growling, but not enough. Not over the smell of thirty-one different flavors of frosting.  Just as she braced herself for yet another gastric rumbling, however, Juniper finally managed to snatch all of Wallflower's attention at once, by reaching across the table and clasping Wallflower's hands. They were soft. Of course they were soft. Wallflower supposed it was a little surprising, given the menial labor involved in Juniper's usher job. Maybe that was why her grip was so strong. But still gentle. It was a little odd... but still very welcome.  Juniper in a nutshell, really. "Hey," Juniper said, squeezing Wallflower's hands more firmly. "So, um. Maybe it's a little early to ask this, but... you wanna do something again next weekend? You know, something a little more... traditional?" "Traditional?" Wallflower echoed. She had an idea of where this was going, but in the time she'd known Juniper, she'd quickly learned never to assume anything.  "Yeah. You know. The whole 'dinner and a movie' spiel. Like in the movies." Juniper smiled wide. "Except also not, because while I do like movies, I also like meta. And I know how to make the most of my cliches." Juniper was definitely right about the meta. Wallflower had quickly learned that she was rarely able to keep up with it. She tilted her head, her mind swimming. "You had me until you didn't anymore." Juniper put her hand behind her head and laughed. "Right, sorry, talking in circles. I do that sometimes. What I mean is, hey, let's hang out at my place! You said you cook, right? I totally want to sample." "Oh. Oh!" Wallflower said, realizing in the back of her mind that she'd never been to anyone else's house before. "Um... sure? I can definitely cook us up something. Wouldn't that be a little unwieldy for your standard dinner-and-a-movie deal, though?" She counted on her fingers. "I mean, a home-cooked meal takes time, and prep, and probably a different style of outfit than going out to the movies..." "Heh. Got that covered too." Juniper took out her phone, made a show of flipping through a few photos, and showed Wallflower its screen. Wallflower was greeted with the image of a sit-down theater auditorium.  "It looks like the same cinema I picked you up from," Wallflower said. Juniper preened. "I'm flattered. Especially since this is a shot of my basement." Wallflower's jaw dropped. Why didn't she see this coming? She seriously should have, given just how nuts about movies this girl was but... just wow. "Hah! I love it when they stare in stunned silence!" Juniper put her phone away, taking hold of Wallflower's hands again. "Look. We both know who we are, we both know what we want, and we both know that a student's income doesn't go very far." She squeezed Wallflower's hands again, meeting her with wide, jubilant eyes. "But what we both do have? Are two very particular sets of skills. Skills that we've cultivated over our entire lives. Skills, that when put together, could make a total dream date. So: you handle the dinner with your green thumb. Pick out the most amazing recipe you can. Meanwhile, I'll be sure to give us a cinematic experience you'll never forget. What do you say?" Wallflower understood those references. It was all she could do not to fall down laughing. "I say, 'absolutely,'" she managed through several giggles. "Excellent," Juniper said as a waitress walked to their table with piping hot cinnamon rolls at the ready. "Now that that's settled, let's put ourselves into sweetness shock." The memory faded as Wallflower approached Juniper's suburban house. Holding a cooler full of vegetables, spices and other stew ingredients in one hand, she checked her phone one last time. After confirming that, yes, she did have the right house—turquoise-green with blue shingles, which she instantly approved of—Wallflower walked up the front steps, and rang the doorbell. Two minutes passed. No answer. Three more rings over the course of five minutes yielded the same results. With a huff, Wallflower placed the container on the ground, and walked around the house, backyard and all. All of the lights were out.  Where could she have gone? she wondered, just before feeling a drop of water on her head. She checked the weather report. Rain would be falling within the hour. Her worry rising, she opened her texts. "Juniper? I'm here. Ready to cook stew to stuff our faces with, and watch a killer movie!" She added a smiling emoji to keep the mood up. After a short time, the "typing" indicator popped up. She was there! At last! What had she been doing this whole time?  The indicator blinked on and off, further fueling Wallflower's curiosity, until two words popped up: "no movie" That was it. No more words, typing indicator, or anything. Groaning, Wallflower typed again. "Juniper, are you home? I think it's starting to rain." Another slow, to-the-point response. "in the park" Wallflower felt her breaths deepening in frustration. "Juniper. Are you okay?" Thinking back to some conversations she'd had with Sunset, she added, "It's fine if you're not. I'll understand, I promise. I've been there, remember? But please, let me know. Otherwise, I can't help." The indicator started flashing again, erratically, on and off, with no discernible pattern. Whatever Juniper was typing, she was struggling to do it. Finally, a response manifested: a frowning-face emoji, beside a broken heart. Wallflower's eyes widened as she gasped, bringing her hand to her mouth. "Stay there. I'm coming to you." Wallflower broke into a sprint, her cooler forgotten on the porch. It didn't take long for Wallflower to get to Canterlot Suburban Park, or pass by its familiar landmarks in the shape of flowers that she'd arranged herself. Maybe in a different situation, she'd be able to show them to Juniper—but that would be later. Juniper came first.  She ran to the rear of the park, where multiple benches were arranged, overlooking a rainbow-hued floral centerpiece, and saw a familiar set of twin green ponytails over a bench in front of her. Juniper had her back to Wallflower, and hadn't noticed her yet. The rain was a light but firm drizzle now. Wallflower had prudently opened her umbrella around the time she'd entered the park proper, but it seemed that Juniper had no such luxury. Her hair would get wet if neither of them did anything about it. And yet, Juniper still sat still. As if she didn't care. Wallflower walked up, and held her umbrella over them both. "Juniper?" she asked. Juniper turned her head around to face who had just spoken her. "W-Wallflower?" "Juniper!" Wallflower said, sitting beside her would-be date. The bench was a little wet, but she soon found out that she cared about this fact as much as Juniper clearly did. Which was not at all. Again, not now. Later. "Are you okay?" she asked, repeating her question from their text conversation. Juniper stared into Wallflower's eyes for several seconds before closing her eyes and shaking her head.  "I... I understand. What's wrong?" Wallflower asked, still a little surprised at herself that she was able to muster up so much concern for... any other human being, really. After so many parties alone, so many club meetings where she went unnoticed, she'd been sure that the concept of connections between her and the rest of the world was a long-lost cause.  Yet, the past month had plenty to say in disagreement. And even beyond that... this was different. Wallflower didn't care how she looked right now. She didn't care what anyone thought of her. All that mattered was that someone she really, really cared about—wow, that was new, too—was not having a good day. "Please, Juniper. Tell me. I don't know if I can help directly. But I can listen." After much hesitation, Juniper handed Wallflower her phone. Wallflower saw that it was already open to an app's screen. After a bit of studying it, Wallflower was able to figure out that it was an app that allowed Juniper to track submissions of her movie to film festivals. She looked over to the results column. Red text. Rejections. All the way down. There had to have been almost twenty. She clicked on a few entries. Mostly form letters, but a few had actually bothered to harp on "amateurish acting," "headache-inducing camerawork," "inconsistent tone." There were a couple other responses which encouraged Juniper to resubmit after following a few friendlier-phrased suggestions, but looking at Juniper, the damage had already been done, several times over. She knew that Juniper had poured herself into the movie she'd been working on, and absolutely loved the result. But if the result after that was this... to have opened every single one of these with hope in her heart, and receive nothing but negativity for her efforts...  Wallflower got it. It was why, until recently, she herself had decided to embrace a life of isolation, save for the hobbies she loved.  Once more, the world was cold and uncaring.  "Oh, Junie," Wallflower sighed, looking over at Juniper, and placing a hand on her knee. Juniper, for her part, looked understandably distraught as she stared into space, and about to crack any second, in a way that Wallflower was also all too familiar with.  "Juniper, I'm so sorry," Wallflower whispered, moving her hand up to Juniper's shoulder and squeezing. "They don't know what they're talking about. You know that, right?" After a short silence, Juniper replied. "You... you should go," she said, her voice quiet and reserved. "What? Why would I do that?" Wallflower asked. Thunder rolled in the distance—whether it was on cue or not, was something Wallflower was sure she would wonder about much later. Juniper's voice was as cold and firm as the rain as she looked right at Wallflower, the tiniest hints of tears threatening from the corners of her eyes. "Because I lied to you."