//------------------------------//
// I Realise That I Need You 
// Story: First Day Of My Life 
// by I-A-M 
//------------------------------//







Sunset Shimmer








“Knock, knock!” I rap my knuckles against the doorframe as I step inside Rarity’s home.
“Come i~n,” Rarity sings from one of the back rooms. I can hear a sewing machine running from that direction.
I grin as I step inside, and nod for Wallflower to follow me which she does albeit hesitantly. She sticks to me like a shadow as I walk through the den and towards the rear of the house where Rarity’s little workshop is.
“Is it okay to just…” Wallflower trails off as she glances nervously about.
“Rarity’s parents are out on another vacation,” I say with a shrug. “She’s looking after her sister, but Sweetie Belle is out with her friends, so it’s just us.”
Wallflower relaxes a little at that but doesn’t quite unglue herself from my side. In fact, she’s actually clinging to my arm a little, and while I feel bad that she’s so nervous, I can’t deny that it’s nice having her this close.
On a whim, I shift my arm a little, move it out from between her hands, and put it around her shoulders. Wallflower freezes for a moment then relaxes and lets me pull her in closer so she can rest her head on my shoulder while we walk.
Rarity is hard at work, bent over her sewing machine with her hair in a bun, glasses perched on her nose, and her foot tap-tap-tapping away at the old machine. Swatches of fabric and lace, along with dozens of other pieces of cloth, are strewn around her in the kind of organised chaos that I know she loves. I learned a long time ago not to mess with, or attempt to clean up, any of it, either.
Something about it messing with Rarity’s ‘muse’, although I have no idea what that even means.
Rarity pauses as we enter, sits up, and wipes a delicate hand across her brow before looking over at us with a smirk.
“Welcome to the disaster of creation, darlings!” Rarity exclaims, gesturing broadly at her room. “I’ve got the frame of the dress worked out, and the colour scheme was easy, but I’ll need to take accurate measurements before I can move forward, Miss Blush.”
“M… Measurements?” Wallflower stares up at me fearfully, and I nod before looking back to Rarity who gives me an arch look.
“Mind if I do it?” I ask, holding a hand out for the measuring tape. “This part is easy and… well, do you mind?”
Rarity looks between us, smiles, then shrugs.
“Not at all, darlings.” She sweeps up the tape and passes it over. “If you’d like you can use my room to collect them. It’s upstairs, second door on your left.”
“Thanks, Rares,” I say, giving her a grateful smile as I look down at Wallflower who nods shakily.
I take her upstairs and we step into Rarity’s room following her directions. Unlike Rarity’s downstairs work area, this room is softly lit and fastidiously tidy. There’s a small fan going to create a gentle air current, and the air smells faintly of some kind of floral perfume.
As soon as we get into Rarity’s room, Wallflower starts to shake as she digs her fingers into her sweater. “D-Do I have to, uhm…”
Her cheeks flush a brilliant crimson, and mine match the shade a moment later as I rapidly shake my head.
“Oh! No!” I shake the neatly coiled measuring tape loose and hold it out. “I’ll just take a few measurements around your clothes, okay? Rarity accounts for that stuff all the time!”
Wallflower relaxes, then nods silently. I have her raise both of her arms and I start to take the measurements, and I immediately regret my choices in life because it’s all I can do to keep my heart from pounding right out of my chest.
I’ve helped Rarity with this before and it was never an issue. It’s easy! Just four measurements: shoulders, bust, waist, and hips. I measure and jot down Wallflower’s shoulder measurements easily enough, but my hands start shaking as I get the tape around her chest.
I force myself to be steady though. If I mess this up, then I’ll mess up the whole dress.
It’s a little hard to tell with the sweater in the way, but the measurement I get is pretty modest. Not like Fluttershy or Pinkie Pie anyway, who have a surprising amount of oomph.
The waist goes even worse. I barely pull the measuring tape taut when Wallflower lets out a nervous jolt of laughter.
I glance up to find her looking very pointedly in any direction but towards me. I start to pull the tape taut again, and immediately her expression cracks, and a squeak of laughter slips out.
“Wallie?”
“Sorry! Sorry!” Wallflower grimaces. “I… I’m just kind of ticklish.”
“Okay well, uhm, bear with me?” I say cautiously as I pull the measuring tape one more time.
I manage to glimpse the number as the tape settles in the same moment that Wallflower lets out a bark of laughter, jerks in place—
—and elbows me in the forehead.
“Ow.”
Little starbursts are flashing in my eyes as I stare up at Rarity’s ceiling, and a moment later my vision is filled with the tearful face of Wallflower Blush as she moves to my side. I don’t know why the look on her face seems so funny all of sudden, but she barely gets my name past her lips before I start laughing.
It’s not small laughs either. I have one hand pressed to my slightly bruised forehead and the other around my stomach as I start howling with laughter.
I’ve so far managed to incur two minor injuries just trying to ask Wallflower out to a dance.
I can keep a cool head while I make a five-year plan to execute a coup d'etat to overthrow an otherworldly monarch who is also the closest thing to a mother that I’ve ever had, but apparently I can’t be trusted to interact with my crush without braining myself.
Between peals of laughter and waving Wallflower off while I try to reassure her as best I can through my giggles, I sit up.
“It’s fine,” I chuckle, getting to my feet and rubbing my forehead as I pick up the measuring tape. “Come on, last one.”
It’s no easier for me to keep the temperature in my cheeks down while I measure Wallflower’s hips. Only constantly mentally reminding myself that Wallflower wouldn’t let anyone but me get even half this close to her keeps my hands steady. If I don’t get these measurements then Wallie doesn’t get a dress, which means we don’t get our date night.
And Wallflower deserves to have a perfect night.
After everything she’s been through, she deserves it.
That thought, more than anything, clamps down on my hormones and steadies my hands enough for me to read and jot down the final measurements. I leave a couple of notations at the side of each one with the presumed adjustments needed to account for Wallflower’s clothes still being on, then pull the little sheet of notepaper loose and look back at Wallflower.
“All done,” I say, and Wallflower sags in relief.
“I’m sorry,” she mumbles.
I grimace as I watch her arms go around herself. She always does that. It’s like she’s trying to close herself off from the world. In a way, it’s like watching a flower wilt, and I hate it.
“Hey, it’s okay,” I say quietly.
Crossing the room, I hold out my arms and gesture for her to step forward. She hesitates for a long moment, but I can see her trying to push past it. Eventually, she does, and she steps into my arms and wraps her arms around my middle. I bury my face in her soft, voluminous hair, hug her tightly, and she shudders for a few moments before relaxing.
I know she’s relaxing because she always does this cute little nuzzle against my shoulder once she feels safe. At least, I think that’s her feeling safe. I hope so anyway.
“Ready to go back downstairs?” I ask.
Wallflower doesn’t pull away, she just nods her head silently against my chest.
We get downstairs with, surprisingly, no grievous injuries. I’ll be honest, I kind of expected to have somehow managed to fling myself out of a window on the way down. That’s just the kind of day I’m having.
“Got’em, Rares,” I call out as we step back into the controlled typhoon of fashion blowback, and I hold out the notes I’d taken.
Rarity is on me like a starving wolf on bacon and snatches the paper from my hands. Sharp, professional eyes scan down the measurements, and I can see the gears turning in her mind as she cobbles together the image of the dress and its wearer in her mind.
It must be a pretty positive image, because Rarity almost immediately begins to vibrate as a high, frenetic squeal issues from her right before she bustles us out of the room, slams the door, and the sound of frantic, apocalyptic dressmaking starts up.
Wallflower looks up at me worriedly, but I just shake my head.
“Don’t worry, that’s just how she is.” I put my arm around Wallflower’s shoulder again as we turn.
And immediately jerk back.
“Sorry!” I hold up my hands. “Sorry! I should have asked!”
Wallflower does that little side to side shuffle for a moment and rubs her arm before shrugging. “It’s… It’s okay, actually. If it’s you, I mean. I don’t mind if it’s you.”
If it was possible for a heart to pop, mine would have.
“O—… Okay,” I lower my hands, take a step forward, and slowly lower my arm over Wallflower’s shoulder.
She responds by sidling a little closer and resting her head on my shoulder again.
Wallflower is soft and warm, and as we step out into the early Summer daylight she shivers and little and nestles closer. My heart does a few backflips and suddenly I’m grinning like a fool. 
Bruised head and chin be damned, today is a good day.






The end of the week, and my date with Wallflower, arrives with agonising slowness. I never realised how a handful of days could take so stupidly long to pass. 
When the evening did arrive, it saw all of us going in and out of Rarity’s workshop like a conveyor belt of fashion which, in a sense, was kind of the point.
Rarity made no secret that she’d been intending to treat the evening as an impromptu fashion show to collect yet more examples for her portfolio. It was even more important now that we were all getting out of high school.
“Alright my dears, now shoo,” Rarity waves Rainbow Dash and Pinkie out of her workshop while I stand by watching with a smirk.
Rainbow is technically going stag, although we all know she’ll end up dancing with Fluttershy by the end of the night like always. Pinkie will probably max out at around fifty dance partners by midnight, and, unsurprisingly, Rarity and Applejack were going as a couple.
“Me and Pinks are going ahead with Fluttershy,” Rainbow shouts as she links an arm with the pink party animal and drags her out. “Gotta get some decent parking!”
“You’re not supposed to save spots by double parking, Dash,” I call after them. “They’re gonna ticket you this time!”
They wouldn’t. We all knew that. Even if someone even tried, the combination of Pinkie Pie’s charm and Fluttershy’s criminally powerful puppy-dog eyes would get them out of it.
The moment they’re gone, I pull out my phone and send a text to Wallflower, who’d been hunkering down in the safety of Rarity’s room since the start of the evening.
“Are you sure she’ll be alright at the dance, darling?” Rarity says, her humor fading as she turns back to me.
I look up and try to keep the frown off of my face.
“I’ll be right there with her the whole time,” I say quietly. “It’ll be fine! And besides, it’s open air so she won’t get claustrophobic, and we can always go walk around the gardens if she starts feeling crowded.”
Rarity lets out a soft huff and shrugs.
As she does, her whole dress shimmers and ripples. If I weren’t head of heels for Wallflower, and if Rarity weren’t firmly on the ‘Applejack’ train, I’d probably be drooling. Her dress is a form-fitting, strapless silk organza. Somehow she had managed varying colours of white to the point that where the light strikes the fabric it shimmers like the surface of an opal.
She looks like a dream, but she’s definitely Applejack’s dream.
My phone dings and I look down to scan the message.
“Wallflower’s on her way down,” I report, and Rarity nods.
“You’d better start getting dressed then,” she says with a smirk and nods at the small sectioned off corner of the room where the girls had all gotten their gowns on.
Applejack and myself had decided to go with suits. Ladies look better in suits anyway, in my opinion, and she and I have similar tastes in terms of looking properly dapper so Rarity had been entirely on board, even going so far as to match up our outfits in contrasting aesthetics.
I grab my suit, being careful not to wrinkle it, and step behind the folding curtain to start to disrobe. As I do, I hear the door open followed by the tentative footsteps of Wallflower Blush.
“Uhm, sorry I left,” she squeaks. “It just got really loud.”
“Never a trouble, dear,” Rarity says softly. “Now, let’s get your dress shall we? It’s easy enough to get into yourself, I’ll just show you the ropes, as it were, and you can get going.”
“O-Oh, wow, this is… is… is it really okay if I wear this?”
The sound of Rarity’s gentle chuckle is also, I know, the sound of her ego being stroked.
“Darling it would be a crying shame if you didn’t,” Rarity answers brightly.
“Agreed,” I say as I push the folding curtain to the side and step out. “So? What do you think?”
I do a turn, and stop to admire myself in the full-length mirror Rarity has set beside the folding curtain as I pull my hair back into a low ponytail.
I have to admit: Rarity outdid herself.
The jacket and trousers of the outfit are deep, onyx black silk, with dark embroideries in subtly shaded gold thread of dragons rampant and traceries of red-threaded flames along the shoulders. The interior waistcoat is a deep, arterial crimson, and the shirt beneath is the same shade of gold as my hair.
“You’re a vision in black, darling,” Rarity says proudly. “But don’t forget the gloves.”
“I’m the villain of a spaghetti western, Rares,” I say with a chuckle, looking over my shoulder at her as I draw out the scarlet gloves from my jacket pocket and pull them on.
Out of the corner of my eye I catch sight of Wallflower and pause. She’s clutching the bundle of cloth that is her prom dress to her chest, her eyes are wide as saucers, and her jaw is hanging open.
I’m also passingly certain she’s not breathing.
“Wallie? You okay?” I ask, turning to her as I affix my black bowtie.
Wallflower doesn’t so much answer as she does wheeze before fleeing past me to get behind the curtain and slap it shut.
I stare at the curtain wall, then glance over at Rarity whose smile has become positively smug.
“I think she likes it,” Rarity says after a moment. “I advise you to keep a careful hold of your own jaw, however, for when she steps out from behind that curtain.”
Rarity steps past me and taps on the edge of the curtain.
“Wallflower? Dear? Let me know when you need help doing up the back, alright?” She calls.
“Uhm, okay!” Wallflower squeaks.
I step back and go to fit my shoes on and as I’m sitting and tying off the laces, Rarity steps closer and lowers herself down to look up at me with concern.
“Sunset,” she says quietly enough that Wallflower won’t be able to hear across the room. “I’m serious, my dress and ego aside, are you sure this is the right idea for Wallflower?”
“Rarity, c’mon,” I grumble as I sit up and roll my neck, relishing the short series of cracks. “How many dances do you think Wallflower has been to the past few years?” Rarity’s face falls, but I don’t stop. “How many people do you think have asked her out? Do you think that, if they did, they actually meant it?”
With every word, Rarity’s face falls, until finally she just nods and stands up.
“Alright, if you’re sure,” she says quietly.
Then, just like that, the concern vanishes from her face and it’s replaced by the familiar mask of the perfect hostess as she sweeps over to the curtain and taps on it again.
“Ready?” Rarity asks brightly.
“Yeah, I… I think so,” Wallflower mumbles.
“Alright, turn around and let’s get you cinched up!” Rarity shuffles behind the curtain and there’s a few quiet noises of frustration before she steps back looking pleased before turning to me. “Well? You’re supposed to stand when a lady enters the room, Sunset!”
I jolt in my seat before standing up, wobbling a little as I do, and frantically smoothing out the creases in my jacket. Suddenly faced with the prospect of seeing whatever it is that Rarity has devised for Wallflower, I can’t say I’m exactly prepared as a flop sweat hits.
“Come on out, dear,” Rarity says softly as she steps backward a few paces, gesturing for Wallflower to follow.
Follow, she does, and for a very brief moment I understand exactly how Wallflower felt because I also forget how to breathe.
She’s gorgeous.
Don’t get me wrong, Wallflower is stupid-pretty even on a bad day. She’s just really cute and pretty and sweet. That's normal for Wallflower. Tonight it’s like absolutely everything I love about Wallflower aesthetically has been cranked up to eleven.
Her gown hugs her modest figure perfectly, and it’s made from interweaving layers of silk and white lace so it flows around her smoothly when she moves. The layers are in the shapes of flora and foliage, and the silk ranges in colour from deep viridian to soft emerald, and there’s a few glints of colour here and there from costume jewelry, hinting at flowers beneath the leaves.
Delicate gloves stretch up to her elbows, and the colours are reversed. Where her dress is green with white accents, her gloves are creamy white with leaf-patterns of green lace.
While I’m staring like a complete jackass, Rarity is busy with a comb, teasing out the little knots and snarls of Wallflower’s long hair until it’s laying in gently bouncing curls around her face.
Rarity turns and shoots me another smug grin. “So? How does she look?”
“Way out of my strike zone,” I say without a moment of hesitation, and Rarity belts out a clarion laugh. “Seriously though… Wallie, you’re… you look just… uh…”
“Keep trying, darling, you’re on a roll,” Rarity says, rolling her wrist in a ‘do go on’ motion.
“Stunning.” Is what I finally settle on. “Wallie you’re… stunning.”
And the small bloom of red on each cheek is even moreso.
“Y’all done gawpin’ in there?” Applejack steps into the doorway and leans against the frame. “Pretty sure we got somewhere t’be.”
Applejack is my opposite in tones. Her buckwheat hair is flowing freely over a grey suit jacket with matching trousers. Her candy-apple green eyes match the bright shade of her waistcoat, and she tugs at her outfit with a satisfied grin.
“Y’know, normally Ah ain’t one fer fancy duds, but these?” She gives her jacket one last sharp tug to straighten it. “These ain’t so bad.”
“So glad you approve, darling,” Rarity says with a smirk.
Taking Applejack’s arm, Rarity leads us out. Wallflower clings to my arm with something almost like Rarity’s grace whom I notice made sure to give Wallflower flats instead of heels, which was probably wise.
I don’t know for certain that Wallflower can’t walk fine in heels but, being a gambling mare, I’d put my bet on ‘no’.
Rarity’s car is a little compact, so her parents had given her permission to use their larger and more luxurious Beemer. Applejack is the one actually behind the wheel, though, being the best driver of all of us, with Rarity up front with her and Wallflower in the back with me.
The drive to the Canterlot Gardens is uneventful beyond the usual traffic. Wallflower is resting her head on my shoulder and smiling faintly, and at some point during the twenty-minute drive, her hand found mine and our fingers ended up twined together.
I can’t really describe the why of it. Something about how our fingers fit together fills me up with little sparks of warmth. The colour is striking too. Pure white laced around blood crimson.
“Uhm, Sunset?” Wallflower’s voice is so soft I’d be surprised if Rarity could hear it, even with her sharp ears.
“Mm?” I look down at her and she blushes softly as she meets my eyes.
The look on her face makes my heart skip a beat.
“You uhm… you look amazing,” she says quietly.
My cheeks warm and I rub at them with the heel of my free hand as I chuckle a little. “Well, I mean, I hope so. I’ve gotta at least try to look like I deserve to have a girl like you on my arm.”
Wallflower’s eyes go wide again and she curls up a little more, burying her face against my arm.
“Wallie?”
“Why do you say those things?” Wallflower murmurs.
I raise an eyebrow. “Because I… I mean them?”
She doesn’t reply. Instead, she goes silent for the rest of the ride to the Canterlot Gardens.
It’s no secret that Wallflower has some serious self-esteem issues. I spent months on end in her company and one of the biggest hurdles I’d had to work through getting her onto the housing program had been just trying to convince her that she deserved it.
I know that she wiped the memories of herself from her family, and pretty much anyone who might’ve known about her, although my understanding is that that had been a pretty short list.
My other understanding was that her former home life hadn’t been the sort of thing that anyone would want to be remembered in. In fact, if her family did remember her, her father in particular, it might be dangerous.
Maybe Rarity was right. Maybe the prom was too much too soon, but to me, it was the only time to do it. Wallflower deserves to have at least one memory from High School where she’s the prettiest girl in the room.
And she is.
Applejack parks the car in the lot a few spaces down from the entrance which had been belligerently claimed and defended by Rainbow Dash’s crass attitude, Pinkie’s boisterous charm, and Fluttershy’s relentless adorability.
I watch, a little impressed, as Applejack sweeps out of the car, moves smoothly around the front, and opens the door for Rarity before offering a hand. She looks like some kind of Lady-Knight escorting a Princess to a ball.
While I don’t cut quite the same figure in my black, red, and gold, I step out and do the same, opening the door, and bowing at the waist as I hold out a hand and give Wallflower my finest, ear-to-ear, Discord-May-Care grin.
Wallflower stares for a moment before reaching out and taking my hand.
Unlike Applejack, who gently pulled Rarity out of her seat, I take a firmer grip on Wallflower’s hand and take a short step backward, pulling her along with me. She lets out a quiet squeak and falls into my arms, coming to rest with both arms braced against me as I cradle her close.
“Tonight, you’re a princess, Wallflower,” I say with as much strength as I can. “And I’m going to treat you like one.”
In a single short movement I link our arms properly and tug her close to my side, smile down at her, and start walking, slowly but confidently, towards the twinkling lights of the main open plaza where the prom is being held.
We pass dozens of gardens worth of flowers in a riot of shapes, colours, and shades. Wallflower’s eyes are wide and a rare, beaming smile is on her face as I walk her down towards the entrance, which is marked by a massive white archway wreathed in Queen’s Lace.
And beside it, is a photographer.
“Wallie, c’mon,” I nod towards the photos, and Wallflower’s eyes bug out a little as she freezes.
“I… I don’t, uhm…” Wallflower looks up at me, and a pang sparks through my heart. Maybe it shows on my face, because she clams up for a moment, then closes her eyes, lets out a small breath, and then opens her eyes and nods. “O-Okay, let’s go.”
“Are you sure?” I ask softly.
“Mhm.” Wallflower nods. “I… I want a memory of this, I think.”
I smile warmly and turn to hug her gently.
“Me too.”
We get in line and wait. It’s a slow process, but Applejack and Rarity are right ahead of us, so I spend it chatting. When we finally do get in place, I lean down to Wallflower and whisper in her ear.
“It’s alright, I’ve got you.”
I settle on hand gently on her hip and move her a little closer, and she lets out a soft squeak, but rather than pull away she just clings to me, with both her arms wrapped around my middle. I settle my free hand on her elbow where it rests over my stomach and hold her up a little before turning to the photographer who I note is gratifyingly captivated by the pair of us.
“Okay, go ahead,” I say turning to the photographer. I take one last glance down at Wallflower, and in that instant, I can’t stop smiling.
She’s looking up at me for a brief moment before turning to the camera, and suddenly I’m smiling bigger and broader than I think I’ve ever done before. For that moment, just as the camera flashes, the whole world is perfect.