Chapter Eight
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Spike was kissing Rarity in her office. Spike was kissing Rarity in her office. Spike was kissing Rarity in her office.
He kind of didn’t know what to do. He’d never kissed anyone before. Should he be doing something with his tongue?
Her hair brushed his cheek, smelling like shampoo and something else he couldn’t quite place. (Was it lavender? He thought so.) Her mouth was warm and soft and perfect against his. His hand pressed onto her knee, fingers curling.
Rarity pulled away, her blue eyes wide (and pretty). They stared at each other for a long time.
“Oh, dear.” Rarity whispered after a long, quiet moment, her voice strangely hoarse. She looked at her hands in her lap (and Spike’s hand on her knee, which he instantly removed). Her face burned. “I... I am so sorry, I don’t know what’s come over me, I...”
“I love you.” Spike blurted. He blushed. “Um, I—I’ve liked you for a really long time... I just thought, you know, now might be the time to say it, considering...” He laughed nervously.
The room was silent for a very long time.
Rarity cleared her throat. “I think you should go, Spike.”
She turned away in her desk chair, leaving him standing behind her, his shoulders slumping and his heart wrenching in his chest. What? She wants me to just... leave? She kisses me and then wants me to leave?
Rarity’s shoulders shook slightly, and even though she was facing away from him, he could tell she was crying. He felt awful. Holy buck, I made her cry. I shouldn’t have said anything!
Shame-faced, Spike zipped up his hoodie and left Carousel Boutique through its purple double doors. He couldn’t help but feel that it was the final time he would ever walk through those doors.
He couldn’t help but feel that it was the end of something.
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Spike was sulking. Obviously.
He sat in his bedroom with his shoulders hunched and his hood pulled up. His lower lip trembled slightly as the song blasted through his headphones:
And she said, “Oh, I can't take no more!”
Her tears like diamonds on the floor...
Yeah, can't take no more of me... He tore off the headphones and tossed them onto his bed (he didn’t actually want to break them, because they were nice-quality and kind of pricey, but it felt good to throw something).
Twi was right, he thought sullenly. I should have just listened to her. “Why the hell didn’t I just listen to her?” Spike growled.
He felt like an idiot. He was an idiot. Of course Rarity would never love him back. She was probably just caught up in the moment; she just kissed him because he was there. (And he was only there because he wanted to kiss her. Buck that system.)
And now she was so mortified that she would probably never speak to him again.
Well, okay. Maybe he would never see Rarity again, but on the bright side... Yeah, there’s no bright side. I wouldn’t even care that I don’t get my suit now, if it only meant I could see her again. Maybe if I could just talk to her...
He sighed and shook his head. “I should just give her some space...”
But what if some space now turns into infinite space later? I should go talk to her. No, no, she won’t want to see me. But... buck, I’m just going to keep going in circles. All this moping isn’t going to help. I wonder what Twi is doing?
He trudged down the stairs and into the living room, where Twilight was lounging on the sofa (surrounded by shelves of books, because, come on, their entire house was a bucking library in a tree). She looked up when he came downstairs.
“Hi, Spike! Oh, are— are you okay?” She glanced him up and down worriedly.
He shrugged. “Something... kind of... happened today.” He reached up to rub the back of his neck. “I should have listened to you, but I didn’t, and, so, um, I—“
The phone rang. Of course it rang, when he was trying to pour his heart out to someone. Twilight got up to answer it, leaving him alone in the room.
A moment later, she came back, looking distressed. “That was Sweetie Belle. She came back from choir practice hours ago and Rarity wasn’t home, and the place looked a wreck. Rarity... she hasn’t come back yet.”
Spike glanced at the clock on the wall; it was nearing midnight. (Why was Sweetie Belle still awake? Speaking of which, why was he still awake?)
Rarity was an adult, though, right? (Isn’t that the reason this whole thing started?) She could take care of herself. If she wanted to be out this late, then she should be able to. But she’d never left Sweetie Belle alone this late before... And what about their house looking a wreck? What was that about?
“Should we be worried?” Spike asked.
Twilight Sparkle looked at him. “I think we should be very worried.”