Twilight Sparkle knew with relative certainty that her girlfriend was meant for great things, but it still shocked her to think she might be one of them. Over the past two months—two beautiful, two heart-reviving months—she’d done her best not to freak out.
And it worked! Sometimes, at least. She’d feel this unreal level of comfort with her girlfriend that could only come from being with the person who understood her better than anyone else in the world. Or the joy that came with finally embracing falling in love with her best friend (which, in hindsight, was far from exclusive to the past two months).
But then, there were also tiny moments that could make Twilight’s heart burst from over-beating if she wasn’t careful. Moments when it really hit her, really and truly, that she was dating Sunset Shimmer.
Because oh my gosh Sunset Shimmer was her girlfriend. Her girlfriend in her private laboratory.
Then again, at this point it may as well have been their private laboratory. Since Sunset started coming over to begin their research together, Spike liked to joke that the lab had gotten a woman's touch. Twilight wasn't sure if that usually meant adding military-grade magic-compliant weaponry, stolen arcane texts originating from libraries in another dimension, and a fully stocked mini-fridge, but needless to say, she really liked that kind of girl.
A girl to share her discoveries with and better yet, build off of them, and to get excited when Twilight built off those! A girl to remind her to take breaks or bring her a blanket when she inevitably fell asleep there anyway, who cared about her well-being more than progress or prestige. A girl who admired her intellect and ingenuity without putting her on some pedestal (or in gifted programs apart from most other kids her age like her parents).
And best yet, a partner whom she could trust to keep her in check and vice versa as they reopened the radical idea of mixing magic with the technology of the modern era.
To... mixed results, if her still-living friends and broken arm were any indication.
Or the tear in the sky, still hanging hauntingly over Canterlot City, and her ex-boyfriend coming back in town. There was a time she wouldn’t know which was scarier.
The ex-boyfriend. The ex-boyfriend was way scarier. And now, if that wasn’t terrifying enough, Timber Spruce apparently had magic.
She was doing everything in her power not to let that bother her, which started with focusing on anything else. Luckily: she and Sunset had a lot of anything else to think about since their best piece of magic-tech essentially imploded.
Hands hidden in her leather jacket’s pockets instead of a lab coat’s, Sunset leaned against the bubbling, neon-blue tube of chemicals behind the desk. Admittedly, it took Twilight time to notice, which she felt a little guilty about (but, okay, who wouldn’t be preoccupied by tinkering with magicmatical formulae and technological advancements unlike the world had ever seen? And doubly so after what they’d just been through?), but Sunset hadn’t made herself comfortable the whole time they’d been in the lab today. She usually liked to be more hands-on than this, right by Twilight’s side. Or closer.
Twilight preferred closer.
Focus, she told herself before she could get any ideas. We’ve got work to do! She’s here on business. Just because she’s my girlfriend— Her lips twisted up. Just because she’s my girlfriend doesn’t mean we don’t have a serious job ahead of us. Even if it is weird for her to not flirt a little while we go.
Twilight reasoned it likely had something to do with the scorched scraps of the gutted-out gauntlet held aloft on the desk in front of her. The way Sunset kept her eye on it, it was almost like she was expecting an attack. As if they hadn’t built it here together.
“Hmm. If the EM transistors overloaded, it could be that I pushed too much magic into it, couldn’t it?” Applying metallic globules to the magic-powered motherboard, the soldering iron steamed in Twilight’s casted hand. As soon as the word “surgery” left the doctor’s mouth, she’d been utterly petrified to think she’d have to cut back on her experiments in the recovery period, but the biggest hurdle proved to be her dad’s well-meaning fretting—nothing she hadn’t learned to work around for years. “In that case, it’s just a matter of rewriting our formula and adjusting the capacity of the transistors accordingly! Easy as reciting the first twenty digits of pi!”
“But the gauntlet held up fine during the trial stage. Everything seemed so safe,” she started, shaking her head. Twilight focused on placing the solder on two pieces of broken metal as if suturing a wound. “I don’t get why it would’ve exploded like that unless… unless it wasn’t picking up on the right kind of magic,” Sunset mused, eyebrows shoved together. “What were you feeling before it jammed?”
“Before I lost control?”
Her girlfriend nodded. Twilight appreciated that Sunset would be patient while she collected her racing thoughts; not a lot of people did when she was the top student at Crystal Prep and she never used to blame them. Heck, even now that she valued herself more she still understood: her mind liked to jump ahead, regardless of whom it left behind.
Technical explanations usually required her to slow down, think about her audience. Anything emotional and Twilight felt like the one left hopelessly behind.
“I was panicking. A lot. But that’s to be expected, given the situation.” She decided against adding, and given me, because when am I not panicking? “I thought focusing on you and our friends would’ve been enough to keep my magic funnelling through the gauntlet.”
“The magic of friendship isn’t a cure-all for panic attacks,” Sunset said, and from way too much experience for her age, Twilight knew she was mostly right— she’d get partial credit for that answer. Her friends’ support made an invaluable difference, but in the midst of an anxiety attack, friendship and love wouldn’t suddenly stop the feelings of inadequacy from soaring irretrievably high. That much was devastatingly correct.
Friends helped more in the comedown. Friends made accommodations. Friends sparked hope in her for the future, or supported her as she learned the self-care to deal with anxiety. There wouldn’t be enough time in this life to express how much she loved her friends (and she’d read fascinating research about extending the human lifespan; even then).
Sunset softened, not unlike when a post-panic Twilight asked to be held. “I think your magic might’ve been reacting to your fear, and knowing you, it wasn’t just for yourself. Our friends, your family, teachers, classmates, coworkers, your dumb boss, strangers on the street—”
“Okay, okay, I worry a lot! You know me too well,” she accused with a sigh-heavy smile. She set aside the motherboard when its chips, connectors, and processors risen above the green surface looked too close to a miniature town. “I couldn’t help it. The more dangerous things seemed, the more people I thought about. My parents, my brother, Spike, Dean Cadence, Principal Celestia—even the girls at Crystal Prep! If I had enough time, I probably would have worried about everyone in Canterlot City.”
Expression pained like she’d stepped on that miniature town barefoot, Sunset nodded. “Add magic into that equation and things get out of control fast. It’s not your fault, babe. You know that, right?”
Taking in a breath, she set a hand on their poor, imploded gauntlet. It still gave her phantom pains in her arm if she thought about it too much. The same way her upper back ached if she remembered the wings Midnight Sparkle once had—but she swore to herself this was different. We’re doing it together, for the girls. For each other. It’s going to work.
She rubbed the twisted tech, as if soothing it, and a giggle stumbled out, “Hehe, eh… one of these times you say that I’m going to record you so I can play it back when you blame yourself for everything.”
Technically speaking, the lab was recorded at all times in case of break-ins or breakthroughs, but she usually tried to shut off the feed when she had guests over. Waivers were a hassle. In the past, she’d considered keeping it on for Sunset, since when her girlfriend came over they either made amazing discoveries or made out (usually, one followed the other; the order wasn’t guaranteed).
There was an argument to be made that maybe they should start recording their findings. Maybe they weren’t progressing fast enough. Our friends are in danger. This has to work. They need us to figure out how to protect them! I should be further along by now, I should be smarter than this, they need me to be better—
“Hey.” Sunset’s voice startled her, since it came from much closer than she was expecting and they hadn’t gotten the Helm of Teleportation past the prototype stage. Without taking her hand from its pocket, Sunset nudged her elbow against Twilight’s shoulder. “You know it’s not your fault, right?”
“Oh. Yeah. I know,” she promised, offering a smile. Whyever would Sunset Shimmer look so doubtful? “Although—” Sunset gave her a warning look. “—in hindsight we probably should have tested our tech under more stressful situations. All the data we collected were in the safety of the lab. Of course it was easy to focus on and channel good feelings with my new girlfriend next to me—we didn’t factor in the variables of a real battle! Or a real demon.” She leaned back in her creaky computer chair, considering it. “You don’t think Sombra had anything to do with that, do you? Messing with our magic?”
Unlike most of her suggestions, Sunset didn’t seem to love that idea. “... Not gonna lie, it’s possible,” she decided, “but if he did, he’d only be tapping into real feelings, anyway. Dark magic comes from dark feelings.”
Twilight jumped at that. Her heart lost a beat in the process, so she clutched at the polka-dotted bow-tie on her chest, as if to find it. “Dark magic? But—but I didn’t steal anyone else’s. All of it came from my geode, or, I suppose, inside me... You’re not saying…?”
“No, oh Celestia, no, babe, you’re not evil or anything. It’s like...” Eyes climbing to the swirling tubes and ropey wires overheard, Sunset sat on the table next to her. “... Magic is power. Magicians either control their power or they let it overpower them.
“I’ve always been a naturally gifted magician—or, uh, was, back in the day," Sunset went on. "The Princess taught me that meant I had to know my own strength. Otherwise, I could do more damage than you’d ever believe.”
Twilight stayed quiet, nodding even as Sunset grimaced. She didn’t dare say anything to divert the subject.
She’d found that Sunset’s past was full of those. Hidden stories. Maybe it was a side effect of being a secret runaway (not a space alien) from another dimension, but Sunset only ever mentioned her life before coming to Canterlot High in passing. Twilight found it endlessly fascinating when she could get Sunset started on it, so whenever it was brought up, she did the only thing she could think to do: she listened.
That was how she found out Sunset accidentally called her teacher “mom” more than any other student in Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns recorded history. And was teased for it. A lot. It was also how she discovered the fact that Sunset spent every holiday season at the school with her mentor while most other students went home to their families. And how she learned that Sunset would gladly take all the merciless teasing again if she could spend another holiday season by Princess Celestia’s hearth.
But Sunset didn’t seem to be in the mood to reminisce. She eyed the melted, busted-up gauntlet again, but not like a foreign threat. More like an accomplice. “Most magic isn’t good or bad. It just is. I put Princess Twilight’s Element of Harmony on and it turned me into a she-demon. It’s all up to how you use it. Or how it uses you.”
Twilight held her casted hand to her mouth, and let it fall when she had her thoughts together. “So, it became dark magic as soon as the feelings did. Oh wow. Oh wow.” Her thoughts rushed to notions of roiling teenage emotions and all the untapped power there. She’d wondered why all the villains they’d faced until now had been teens their age, why no one else was a magnet for rogue magic. But, then, maybe that was it: rogue magic fed off rogue emotions. “No wonder I had so much trouble keeping the gauntlet stable! It wasn’t calibrated for that kind of unpredictable power, especially not that much of it at once! I… I was really panicked.”
Sunset grinned, albeit with some bittersweet sympathy twisting her smile. “The malfunctioning tech didn’t help you stay calm, huh?”
Twilight returned the favour by smiling back, leaning on her broken arm before feeling how stiff and awkward that was with the cast, and shoving her arm down between her knees. “Uh, yes. Yeah. But, you know, I was also extremely worried for my girlfriend’s well-being. That’s not even just a smooth pickup line, losing you was…” Breathing in, she shook her head. She really thought she’d finish that sentence, but then, hearing herself say that out loud…
Her breath hitched on the exhale. Her eyes fixed on her girlfriend’s.
Sunset nodded. Her brow pinched over her crystalline green eyes.
She moved to close the distance between them, but Twilight got up in the same instant. It wasn’t clear who held whom first, or who held on tighter.
Technically speaking, they’d already done this. The thank god you’re not dead kiss in the hospital had been so passionate their friends had briefly drawn the privacy curtain at Twilight’s bedside. Timber and Flash came soon after, they all went to Applejack’s and celebrated with their friends. They had their normal back.
But then, there were also tiny moments that could make Twilight’s heart burst from over-beating if she wasn’t careful. Moments when it really hit her, really and truly, that Sunset Shimmer was in her laboratory.
Because oh my gosh her girlfriend was alive.
Twilight’s eyebrows buckled under the weight of the thoughts about what could’ve happened to her. She sniffled. The steady blinking lights in the lab blurred, twinkling like stars reflecting off the waves of the ocean. She nestled into the nook of Sunset’s shoulder, pressed herself against the warmth of her stomach, and held the back of her girlfriend’s head. She heard a rough sigh. Sunset squeezed back.
Imagine, all that work to build something to protect ourselves and I almost lost her before it could be finished.
When they moved to look at one another, still in each other’s arms, Twilight had to push up her glasses to wipe her eyes. “Sunny…” Her smile overpowered the tears. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”
“You’re glad I’m okay?” her voice broke, as if the joy had broken her. Sunset laughed, still misty-eyed, picked her up and swung her around, all while nuzzling her forehead into Twilight’s.
Now both of them were giggling and Twilight was almost too giddy to notice it. Sunset’s magic mixing with her own. The feeling had become unmistakable after all their experimentation. When they discovered they could share their magic with each other shortly after they started dating, it was thrilling!
That’s why they’d started all this magic-technology research to begin with: the thrill of discovering together combined with the thrill of discovering each other.
If Twilight didn’t run naturally cold (to the point that she may as well have been wearing a three-piece tuxedo with a lab coat instead of a suit jacket), Sunset’s magic would probably be a hot-flash in the making.
But it was a rejuvenating sort of heat, like rising from the ashes anew. The lab often smelt like the clean fire of a Bunsen burner, but Twilight was really starting to prefer the smokier scent her girlfriend’s magic left behind.
When Sunset did her best to explain what Twilight’s felt like, she’d described it as cold at first, then bright hot. Bottomless. That sounded horrific to Twilight, but Sunset had assured her it wasn’t like that at all. It was more like… a star in endless space. Endless potential. Sunset said it was downright addictive.
Look who’s talking. She’d always known (and often appreciated) that Sunset Shimmer was beautiful, but this? Magic radiating off her, her curls wild and her smirk even wilder? This was goddess levels of hot. But somehow, if it was feasibly possible, this was better than that, because this wasn’t some mythically gorgeous stranger or unapproachably put-together prep kid. This was her hot best friend who also swore up and down Twilight was hot.
Twilight wasn’t sure how. She probably looked like a total goober with her eyes glazing over as she murmured, “Mmph… Is there a way to bottle this feeling? Maybe we should get to work on that…”
Sunset giggled, her hands settling south at the curve of Twilight’s hips. “Mmm... nah. Our friends can have the shields and magical armour, when we make sure they’re safe enough. I’m going to be selfish here. This is ours.”
Twilight laughed and kissed that girl hard. A few times. Or maybe just once, for a long, extended period of time? She didn’t have the brain power to debate the taxonomic classification of kisses, magical or otherwise, while also making out with her girlfriend, but she did have enough to make a mental note that that sounded like an excellent thesis paper: a very, very long thesis paper, requiring rigorous research with a trusted partner.
Before the heat between them could start a fire and trigger the sprinkler system, Sunset pulled away, softly panting, and muttered in the husky end of her voice, “I… should probably get going, huh?”
Twilight’s eyelids fluttered open. “Mmmwha..? Why?”
Sunset giggled, readjusting Twilight’s crooked glasses. Doing that allowed her to see the sunrise blush in the other girl’s cheeks, causing Twilight to to come to the only logical conclusion: I must protect that smile at all costs. “It’s getting late? You have a curfew? And, honestly, because if I don’t go now, I’m not going at all tonight. Probably should do the responsible thing, since I know you like that in a girl.”
She winked.
The sprinkler system must’ve been faulty.
The magic’s glow faded. Before Twilight even had a say in it or even really saw it happen, Sunset slipped her hands back into her pockets. She even dared to give her a cute smile, as if that would in any universe help Twilight let Sunset go home.
“Oh. Um.” Twilight looked to the high, honey-comb-shaped window by the top shelf of her bookcase: pitch-black. Swallowed by shadow. “Huh. I guess it is getting late.”
She followed Sunset to the lab’s retrofitted garage door like she had numerous times before tonight, but her steps slowed to a stumble. The shadows outside appeared hauntingly familiar after losing a battle to the supposed Lord of Shadows. Goosebumps settled over her as the garage door finished its grumbling ascent. Crickets set in.
When Twilight saw her girlfriend halfway down the driveway, half engulfed in darkness, her voice raised itself. “Sunset Shimmer?”
Her girlfriend turned back toward her, soaked in the garage light. “Yeah?”
Twilight opened her mouth and it didn’t work until she fiddled with her hands. “... Can you stay at my house tonight? My parents won’t mind. I don’t like the idea of you alone in your apartment so soon after everything we just went through, a-and I know you’ll have to go back there at some point, but right now you could be a target! All the other girls have someone to defend them. You shouldn’t have to be alone, either.”
She smiled.
Clad in a pair of borrowed magenta pajamas, Sunset flopped backwards onto the bed. “Oof,” she huffed, staring up at the model of the solar system dangling from the ceiling. “You people have too many stairs in this house.”
Snuggled up on top of the pillow on the chest at the end of the bed, Spike snickered into his baby-soft, paw-print-covered doggy blanket. “That, or you really need to use your gym membership.”
Sunset tilted her head up to make a face at him while Twilight faced the door so those two wouldn’t see her suppress a giggle. If they got too snarky with each other, she’d just have to remind them of how adorable they were the other night at Sweet Apple Acres. The only time that night that Spike had left Twilight’s lap was to jump up at Sunset when she walked in a little woozy, but alive.
She shut the door and felt herself relax the moment she did. The tension in her shoulders dropped, a tension she hadn’t even realized she’d been carrying. We’re safe. Everyone’s okay. No need to panic.
Then she turned back to Sunset and flinched. “Sunset, what happened to your hand? Wait, have you been hiding that this whole time?! How did I miss that?!”
One of the hands resting on the bed lay wrapped in gauze—which was more startling since the bandaging wasn’t from their hospital visit. Twilight knew because 1) Maybe she could be a little tiny bit oblivious at times, on occasion, but surely even she would’ve seen that by now, and 2) Twilight was the one to stock Sunset’s apartment’s first aid kit in the first place. She’d gifted her that gauze!
Sunset grimaced, shutting her eyes. “Hellhounds,” she swore.
Twilight scrambled over to cup Sunset’s hand, as if it might break. “You were attacked by hellhounds!? When was this?”
Spike perked up, leaning over the wooden footboard at the end of the bed. “That’s a thing? Can hellhounds talk?”
“No, that’s not—” Sunset stifled a laugh, sitting up on the edge of the bed while Twilight examined her hand. At least the humour was genuine in her guilty smile. “Sorry, I didn’t want to worry you any more than you already are. It’s just a sprain from hitting the punching bag the wrong way.”
Both Twilight and her dog relaxed, and Sunset chuckled like that was funny, but in Twilight’s opinion they’d had a perfectly rational reaction. She could never tell when Sunset was kidding about what did or didn’t exist in Equestria. How could she? Magical singing unicorns used to sound equally as ridiculous and preposterous as fae creatures or ghosts or storybook endings where the hero got the girl. It wasn’t exactly the easiest flow to go with for a lifetime logic-enthusiast/scientist.
Spike hummed. “Still didn’t answer me about the hellhounds.”
Sunset smirked, then pet his head more roughly than Twilight would have (but he seemed to like it). “Tcht. Alright, I hear you. Next time I’m near the Equestrian underworld, I’ll try to find you a hot date, okay?”
His floofy tail wagged almost too fast for the human eye to detect. “Alright!”
Twilight ran her thumb over the taped-up knuckles. “I didn’t know you boxed. Is that new?”
“Yeah. I bought a punching bag. We’ve never been beaten that badly before. Or at all.” Sunset dropped her eyes and rubbed her hand. “I needed to let out some anger. I think it worked. Kind of. Better than calming deep breaths, at least, and even if it didn’t help, Spike’s probably right. I think I owe it to the city to hit the gym more often.”
Twilight giggle-snorted. “You owe it to the city? I’m pretty sure everyone who knows you already knows you’d rather spend your nights off in front of your game systems with a box of Princess Guide cookies.”
“I’m serious!” She sat up and twisted herself back around to talk to her more directly. “For better or worse, I brought magic here and now it’s getting more intense. Dangerous people are getting their hands on it. We’re the only ones in this town who know how to fight back!” She swung at the air which made her bounce on the bed, but then winced and rubbed her wrist. “Ach, ow…”
Twilight frowned, eyebrows tightening over her eyes. She turned toward her dog. “Spike, do you mind giving us a minute?”
Spike groaned like a child being asked to clean his room in the middle of a game with his friends. “But you were in the lab all day—you two never stop talking!” Sunset met Twilight’s eyes and they smiled. Spike seemed to catch on and huffed through his wet little puppy nose. “At least I hope you’re just talking in there…”
“Please?” Irony be damned, she gave him puppy-dog eyes (without really intending to; she’d found that the big glasses just made it hard not to if she looked pathetic enough). She bit into her lip. “We’ll try not to be too long.”
“Well... okay,” he allowed, none too chipper about it. He attempted a glum smile at least before hopping off the bed, doggy tag tingling. “But no one’s allowed to break any more hands while I’m gone. I’m watching you, Shimmer.”
“No promises,” Sunset told him, waving her sprained wrist.
After ushering him out, Twilight let him know where the doggy treats Shining Armour had just baked for him were. She hoped he understood.
In the calming light of her reading lamp, Twilight came to sit across from her girlfriend on the bed and took her hand in her own; broken and battered hands intertwined. She had a thought, but like most of her thoughts, it was followed up by even more. Could that even work? Does empathy really mix well with levitation? Twilight bit her lip. “Can I try something? With our magic?”
Sunset’s bright eyes sparked at that. “Sure. I trust you, Sparky.”
A smile rose on her face as she shut her eyes to better concentrate on the magic. Delayed only by a moment, she could feel Sunset pushing her magic to her, her heat radiating through their hands, and Twilight did her best to match it.
She focused on Sunset’s wrist. She’d later suspect it was the empathy magic coursing through her, but her own wrist started to ache, too. Sunset grunted, almost mewling, as if she’d gotten the worse end of that deal and could feel the break in Twilight’s arm. Twilight’s heart dipped at that, but she pressed forward. Even with her eyes closed, she could tell the magic around their hands flared brighter and she distantly wondered if they should’ve been wearing safety goggles.
Even with her eyes still closed, she could also feel Sunset kiss her fingers. She’d caught on. There’s my clever girl.
She focused on the feeling, the shared understanding of each other’s pain. The light between them flared and evaporated, like a dying star.
Twilight blinked her eyes open a few times, and leaned forward. “Did it work? How does it feel?”
“It feels… better,” Sunset said, eyebrows shooting towards her hairline. She unwrapped the gauze on her hand and examined it, breathing out a laugh. “Twilight, we can heal each other? This is incredible! Did I just heal your broken arm?!”
Twilight worked her elbow, testing how stiff it still felt, but the shots of pain remained. “I... don’t think so. Maybe a broken arm is a little out of our depth.” She didn’t mind. She actually sort of liked walking around with her friends’ signatures and doodles on her cast. “But, hey, I think you might have reduced my recovery time! Imagine the implications, Sunset! We can heal!”
Sunset leaned back on both of her hands, as if to test it wouldn’t wear off without contact. Judging by her wild smile and rapt attention, her wrist was holding up just fine. “Seriously, I know you’re a genius, but how did you figure out we can do that?”
“I’ve suspected we’d be able to do something with our shared magic for a while, but I didn’t know what. I’ve had a few pet theories about what an empath and a telekinetic could do, but honestly? When I saw you were hurt, I just wanted to help. I wanted to understand. Although,” she said, excitement dimming, “I suppose I can’t magically heal everything going on with you. Are you okay?”
“... Yes and no? When I took out my anger on the punching bag, it felt good.” She gripped her hand into a fist, demonstrating her strength now that she had it back, but then let go. “But after letting out all that anger, there was nothing left to hide how I really feel. I’m scared.”
Twilight nodded, looking towards the crack in the night sky they could see from the circular window above her bed. “I know how you feel.” She chanced a smile, tilting up the other girl’s chin. “But it’s like you said: Magic isn’t good or evil, it’s how you use it. That means that even if you brought it here, you’re not responsible for everyone else’s bad choices. In other words, stop blaming yourself. It’s not all your fault.”
She nodded, taking that in, which Twilight hoped was a good sign. “Oh, I think I get what you’re saying. You mean like how you’ve been blaming yourself for your breakup with Timber Spruce?” Sunset grinned when she knew she stumped the genius. “Like how that’s not all your fault?”
Twilight felt her mouth drop open. “That - that’s different! The breakup was my fault. I got overprotective. I tried to keep him away from magic for his own safety and didn’t realize that also meant keeping him from a part of me. I caused a rift between us.”
The girl who’d blamed herself for the rift in this sky smiled knowingly, even nodded. “Maybe that’s true. But, and stop me if I’m wrong here, you also said there were other reasons.” She numbered them off on her fingers. “He didn’t want to do long-distance when you went off to college, you two had different priorities, and his puns aren’t as funny as mine—and none of that makes either of you a bad person.
“I’m not saying you and Timber need to be friends right away. That’s up to you two. But take it from the guilt-complex master, you’re being way too hard on yourself.” Sunset Shimmer took both of her hands and looked into her eyes, a move she knew Twilight could never resist. “Twilight, it’s not all your fault. You know that, right?”
Short bursts of vibration drilled into the nightstand. She ignored it at first, trying to give her girlfriend a proper answer, but she saw who it was from the notification: Everfree’sFinest.
Up until this past weekend, Twilight would have struggled over whether to ignore it or not. She didn’t know where they stood or what that meant, and how would Timber feel knowing she’d moved on? What on earth was she supposed to say? Or not say? The breakup was already hard enough, but when Twilight stopped to think and really broke it down, it was so... uneven.
She took the friends. She took the magic. And she really hadn’t planned to date anyone else (maybe ever again, quite honestly), but then there was Sunset Shimmer. Her best friend. She needed her best friend more than ever after her break-up, so it only made sense that Sunset came over after school nearly every night she wasn’t working for the first few weeks. And staying at Sunset’s apartment every other weekend or so was just the next most logical extension. Asking her to stay a little longer each time also made its own sort of sense.
And of course she’d feel closer to Sunset with their increased hang-out schedule. And it was only expected that with all that time together, they’d have longer and deeper talks about life and love and feelings. And naturally, with all those subjects gravitating around Twilight’s brain in the late hours of the night, when her mind decided it would be the most talkative, the association between how she felt around Sunset and how she wanted to feel always became startlingly clear. Naturally.
On those late nights, she’d realize it was more than just a beautiful feeling—the feeling was a tell. A clue to a greater mystery for Twilight to unravel. She’d learned the value of friendship, and thought she’d learned about love, but loving again? Loving anew? Was that really what she was feeling?
It took some thought. She kept Sunset at arm’s length for weeks before she was sure, but even now, she didn’t regret that. She wasn’t scared of getting close to another person anymore, but she needed to know she was doing it for the right reasons. And every time she thought about her and Sunset together, one thing rang true: she loved Sunset for who she was, not just how she made her feel.
Sunset was more than just her shoulder to cry on. If she was, Twilight wouldn’t have said yes to going to the dance together, she reasoned. If Timber ever asked Twilight genuinely hadn’t planned any of it, but she ended up going to the senior year Fall Formal with someone new. And she kissed her.
How was she supposed to explain that? Would he even want her to?
Well, he found out anyway, she thought. And even if I tried to keep him away from magic, he’s got that now, too. Maybe we’re both going to be okay.
Taking a deep breath, with one hand still cradled in her girlfriend’s, Twilight unlocked the phone.