//------------------------------//
// What Else To Say 
// Story: Running Out Of Air 
// by I-A-M 
//------------------------------//







Wallflower Blush







I’m broken.
That’s the summary of what Doctor Hazel is explaining to me while I’m waiting for Sunset to get back and for the hospital to process my discharge.
She said a lot of things; things like, multiple hairline fractures, and badly healed breaks. Things like maintaining proper nutrition, getting enough sleep, and no more skipping meals or else my health could deteriorate.
But it all means broken.
The thing that really concerns me is that, according to Doctor Hazel, I’m being discharged to Sunset’s apartment. Meaning, I’m going to be living with Sunset for the foreseeable future, and that Sunset already agreed to it because of course she did.
“I’ve written you a prescription for some vitamin supplements and probiotics that should help,” Doctor Hazel continues as I stare straight forward.
I’m trying not to think about the fact that I’m going to be spending the next however-many-months imposing on— and ruining the life of— the only person in creation that can stand to be around me for any amount of time.
“One of each of these by mouth with food, every morning,” She says flatly. “Your first fill will go with you when you’re discharged, the orders are already in and they should be here in about twenty minutes. My advice is to take them with orange juice, it helps with absorption. Questions?”
A firm knock on the door rescues me from having to answer her, which is good because I’m not sure I have one. I’m still trying to process everything else.
“Hey.” Sunset’s voice is like a cold rag on fevered skin, and I honestly kind of hate how relieved I feel right now.
Every part of my overwhelmed brain just breathed a sigh of relief and said: Oh good, Sunset’s here, she’ll take care of everything.
And she will, because I can’t, because I’m an irresponsible dolt.
Of course, they don’t hear any of that. Hazel and Sunset just hear the sigh of quiet relief that comes out of me by reflex the moment Sunset Shimmer enters my hospital room and says ‘hello’.
I look up at her and she still looks a little ragged, but I think she’s at least had a shower now. I’d practically had to argue with her to get her to go home for a little while, and for once I’d actually won it, although now I realise the reason I won is probably because she was going back to her apartment to get things ready for me to come stay with her for a few months.
A few months.
The prospect isn’t just daunting. It’s terrifying and frustrating at the same time. I want to be fine, to be well enough to just go and keep doing what I’ve been doing, but Doctor Hazel made it clear that I’ve been pretty lucky up to this point as it is. The fact that I passed out among good company and not in a gutter or in the middle of an alley in the East End is a small miracle.
Yeah, a miracle.
A miracle named Sunset Shimmer.
She’s the only reason I’m here and not at Saint Easel’s or on the fourth floor of that parking garage in the Commons where it’s a little less windy.
“You ready to get out of here?” Sunset asks as she sits down on the bed beside me. “I know I am.”
“Mhm,” I mumble, nodding. “Just uhm… they’re gonna have to uh…”
I nod down at my arm without looking at the IV. If I look at it, I start to panic, and I don’t want to be any more trouble than I already am.
“Yeah, they will,” Sunset says softly.
“Now that you’re back,” Doctor Hazel says to Sunset, “I’m going to be removing her PICC line.” Then she turns to me with a patient look. “Given your aversion to needles, I’m going to advise you not watch.”
I swallow back a lump in my throat.
“What’s a uhm…” I trail off, and Doctor Hazel’s expression flattens.
“I’ll tell you if you want, but I can almost guarantee you don’t want to know,” Hazel says without inflection. “Ideally, I’ll tell you after I’ve removed the line, though, as this does take a few minutes and we’re on a clock.”
I nod shakily and turn away from my arm, and Sunset leans forward to wrap her arms around me. Instinctively, I find that comfortable place right at the crook of her shoulder, and rest my head there while Sunset runs her hand down my hair, then back up, then down, in soft petting motions that I’m a little miffed to realise are actually really comforting.
“So I think I’ve got the sleeping situation sorted,” Sunset starts as I feel Hazel start to fiddle with my arm, and I do my best to ignore the extremely uncomfortable tugging sensation happening under my skin. “Since I figure you still won’t take the bed.”
“The couch is f-fine.” I stumble over my words as the cold, tugging starts making my stomach to unpleasant flips. “I uhm… you don’t have to put me up.”
“Kinda do, Wallie,” Sunset says quietly. “She told you right? Doc Hazel? You’re not healthy.”
“I’m fine,” I mumble.
“You’re not.” Sunset’s grip tightens on me just a little, pulling me closer until her scent is all I can feel. “Don’t lie to me, Wallie, please.”
I raise a hand to her shoulder and cling to her as best as I can. I don’t want to lie to Sunset. That’s not what I’m trying to do. Doesn’t she see that? I’m just…
“You don’t even know when I’ll leave,” I say after a moment, and the words come out tight through a throat that’s closing up. “You don’t even know when you’ll be rid of me.”
“Hopefully never,” Sunset mutters.
I feel her stiffen then, and I freeze too. Then she chuckles, although to me it sounds just the tiniest bit forced as she pets my head.
“You’re my friend, Wallie, remember?” She continues as if she’d never stopped. “Why would I want to be rid of you? I don’t want to be rid of any of my friends.”
That’s… fair, I guess. It’s hard to argue with that, even conceptually. I don’t have any real friends outside of Sunset. Even Sunset’s own friends feel like they only tolerate me, even if they’re nice enough about it. The only one I feel like I actually get along with is Fluttershy, and that’s mostly because we can sit in total silence and pet her little bunny Angel without it feeling awkward.
“But you don’t have to live with them,” I say finally. “They’ll eventually leave.”
"Everyone always does."
I’m positive she didn’t mean for me to hear that, because she says it so quietly that I really do almost miss it. It’s the way she says it that puts a sliver of ice in my heart though. The words come out, and when they do something changes. I can’t really put my finger on it, but it does. It’s not exactly Sunset’s posture or her tension. It’s like an aura. It’s something ephemeral that hangs around her that suddenly gets so much colder, and grimmer, and… and sadder.
“So will you,” Sunset says after a moment, as if she hadn’t said anything prior. “You’ll get your own place, Wallie, okay? This situation? It’s just for now. A couple of months really isn’t that long.”
Then she hugs me tighter, pressing her cheek to mine, and I think it’s a little unfair how warm and comfortable Sunset is. I let her though. I let her hold me, and hug me, and run her fingers through my hair, because I’m tired, and I’m cold, and honestly…
Honestly, as much as it makes my gut wrench knowing I’m burdening her, it’s kind of nice to have someone care.
“Ahem.”
I glance up from Sunset’s shoulder at a blithely smiling Doctor Hazel, and I feel Sunset shift as she does the same.
“I’ve been done for about ten minutes now, so you can look up,” Hazel says drolly. “Your papers are there,” she gestures to a packet on the table, “and your medications are on the way, I have other patients to see to, so I’ll bid you good evening, and hope that if we do see one another again, that it’s outside this hospital.”
I give a clumsy nod as I pull away from Sunset, and selfish as it is, it’s a little gratifying that I have to try to pull away because Sunset doesn’t let go immediately. Maybe that should bug me, but the fact that holding on to me is an instinct for her is reassuring.
“Thank you, Doctor Hazel,” I say as I turn in the bed. I do my best not to look down at the little bandage she has wrapped around the hole in my arm.
Mm… yep. Definitely not going to think about that.
“Take care of yourself, Wallflower,” Hazel says softly as she makes to leave. “For all of us.”
Then she’s gone into the white, sterile halls of Canterlot General Hospital, leaving Sunset and I alone to awkwardly wait for my vitamin prescriptions to arrive.
“So uhm, I probably should have mentioned this before…” Sunset says uneasily. “But I really hope you like chicken soup.”






Despite days of recovery, I still feel drawn thin as I leave the hospital behind Sunset. It’s freezing outside, but the hospital called us a cab for the ride back to Sunset’s apartment. It’s not that far, but apparently it’s far enough that they’re concerned about me.
I hate that.
If the hospital is concerned, that means Sunset is concerned. If Sunset is concerned, that means she’s going to be walking on eggshells around me and bending over backward to help me.
This is going to be a long couple of months.
The cab ride is short and quiet, but despite the fact that the cabbie has the heater blasting I still feel cold, and the ache goes deep enough that even my bones seem to hurt.
Sunset is silent throughout the ride, although I can see her thinking. I’ve spent enough time watching her that I know what it looks like when she’s deep in thought. Her eyes go into soft focus and track back and forth like she’s reading an invisible book, and all the while she fidgets idly, tugging at her hair or at the lapels of her leather jacket.
It’s funny how animated she is all the time. Sunset really is my polar opposite. Even when she’s sitting still she’s moving, whereas even when I’m moving it sometimes looks like I’m not.
It feels like I’m not, too, and in more ways than one.
Sunset gently taps my wrist as the cab slows to a stop, and I look up. Her apartment building is looming over us, and an unwelcome shiver rolls through me as she opens the door and steps out of the cab into the freezing cold air which quickly floods inside.
“Come on, let’s get out of the cold,” Sunset says softly, holding out a hand.
“Mhm,” I mumble, unwilling to open my mouth as I take her hand and let her lever me out of the cab.
Sunset hands off a paper to the cabbie, who takes it and tucks it away with the ease of practice before pulling back out into the road and vanishing into the city street. I raise an eyebrow at Sunset as she comes back to me, and she smiles.
“It’s a voucher for the ride,” Sunset says, answering my unasked question. “The hospitals give them out sometimes, usually for people on social programs.”
“Oh.” I frown as I wrap my arms around myself and turn back to the apartment.
I guess it’s cheaper than me taking up a hospital bed for however many days it would take for Sunset to figure out a ride. I’m glad at least that much was easy.
A sharp whistle cuts through the icy air, and I jerk as adrenaline shoots through my limbs. Before I can react any further, Sunset’s hand drops onto my shoulder to stop me as she looks up with a broad smile and flags down someone stepping out of a red pickup.
I know her.
“Jackie!” Sunset grins and opens her arms as she moves away from me and she and Applejack meet in a tight bear hug.
The light coming off of them is almost blinding. The dynamism that burns in Sunset and makes her feel so alive is just as strong in Applejack, but in a different way. If Sunset is like a supernova locked in mid-blast, then Applejack is the potent heartbeat of a star.
And I’m barely a campfire ember.
“Hey there, sugarcube,” Applejack says fondly, slapping a hand against Sunset’s shoulder as they part. “Good t’see y’all’re gettin’ back home.”
“It’s been a rough week,” Sunset admits with a laugh. “Thanks for coming all the way out here.”
“Aw shucks, weren’t no trouble,” Applejack nudges her with an elbow before nodding back to the car. “Got deliveries t’make anyway, and honestly it’s nice t’get some’a that junk outta the attic.”
“I still feel bad asking—” Sunset starts, but Applejack waves off her apology.
“Nah, better someone who needs it gets some use outta it,” Applejack says, her laconic features warming into an easy grin. “That stuff was just collectin’ dust anyhow.”
Then she turns and cups her hands around her mouth. “Hey, Mac! Grab the stuff!”
I winch at the volume of her bellow, and it’s a little satisfying to see Sunset do the same. As Applejack heads back to her pickup, I intercept Sunset as she gets to the front door of her complex to punch in the code to enter.
“What’s uhm… what’s she talking about?” I ask quietly, looking between Sunset and Applejack who’s reaching into the cramped back seats of the pickup.
“We~ll,” Sunset starts with a weak laugh. “Basically, I didn’t have a lot of good options for your sleeping arrangements, and I… I don’t exactly have a lot of extra cash, so I asked Applejack if she had any spare bed stuff that’s a little nicer than my collection of sleepover junk.”
My expression falls lower with every other word.
“Please let them help,” Sunset says, her tone dropping to one of appeal. “I… Please?”
I lower my head as a tremor takes up in my shoulders and chest that has nothing to do with the cold and I ask the same question I’ve asked over and over and over.
“Why?!”
Sunset hits the last number on the keycode lock, then turns, wraps her arms around me, and pulls me in. I know she’s answered that question before, or at least she’s given me an answer. But no matter what she says or promises it just… it doesn’t feel real.
She sighs against my hair as I rest my face against her shoulder.
“They’re only helping me because of you,” I continue grimly. “They wouldn’t even care if it were just me. They never cared before.”
Another sigh, and for some reason that surprises me. I expected her to push back on that, or to argue with me, or something, but she doesn’t.
I draw back and look up into her face. It’s set into a gently taciturn grimace.
“Sunset?”
She doesn’t answer right away, she just hugs me a little tighter, and for some reason, I think she’s doing it as much for herself as for me.
“Sorry,” she says finally as she steps back.
Without another word or a real answer, Sunset makes her way towards Applejack. They’re hauling out a full-size mattress, along with what looks like knitted blankets, bedclothes in sacks, and a plastic garbage bag that, from the bulk, probably contains pillows. Between Sunset and Applejack, they get the majority of the smaller things together, with Applejack’s brother hauling the mattress by himself.
I scramble into the lobby, trying to stay out of their way and moving ahead to call the elevator as the three of them get inside. I let out a relieved sigh as the heat chases away the chill of the winter air while Sunset sets the bags down as we wait for the elevator to trundle downward.
“We might just have to cram the mattress into the elevator,” Sunset says softly. Her tone is subdued, and I think even Applejack notices. “Actually…”
Sunset glances around before settling her eyes on me and nodding back at Mac. “Are you okay riding up the elevator with Mac? Jackie and I can just take the stairs and meet you two up there.”
I swallow hard at the notion as I turn to look back at Applejack’s elder brother. I’d only ever seen him in passing, but I’d never paid him much attention.
For someone so large, he really blends into the background.
On the heels of that thought came a new one, and the panic that had been welling up in me at the notion of Sunset leaving me alone fades.
He’s like me.
“Uhm, okay,” I say, nodding to Sunset before turning back to Mac who gives me a slow, phlegmatic nod.
Sunset and Applejack head up the stairs toting the bags, and a few moments after they leave, the lobby elevator chimes atonally. The door opens with a grudging squeal and Mac maneuvers the mattress in with surprising deftness leaving just enough room to fit myself in with some space for comfort.
“Thank you,” I mumble as I settle in beside him.
Mac nods as he taps the sixth-floor key, and leans back, resting his weight against the mattress to keep it from shifting while the elevator kicks to life and starts to move upward.
As it does, I steal a glance over at him. He’s staring straight forward, his green eyes focused on nothing in particular. It’s strange. Normally, around men, especially larger men, I start to panic, but there’s none of that feeling around Mac. Standing beside him is more like standing next to an enormous tree. I’m sure, realistically speaking, that he knows I’m here next to him, but along with that knowledge is the feeling that me being here doesn’t really matter.
I can’t really say why I find that so comforting.
When the elevator finally reaches the sixth floor, I’m already starting to feel antsy. Not even because of Mac, but because…
Because Sunset isn’t here.
I don’t like that.
Even knowing that she’s just around the corner and that I’ll be next to her again in a few minutes, I still feel anxious, and that rubs me the wrong way.
Sunset doesn’t deserve to have someone like me cling to her. She wants to help me, I know that, and I also know that I can’t stop her from doing it. I’m pretty sure the last time someone stopped her from doing anything it required actual magic.
But all the same.
She deserves better than a burden.
Better than a leech.
Mac steps out of the elevator, hauling the mattress with a single, smooth motion that looks so much easier than it should.
There are a few people in the hallway, but all of them clear out quickly at the sight of Mac’s enormous form heaving a mattress through with all the impunity of a steamroller over asphalt, and I follow in his shadow until we reach Sunset’s apartment where Sunset and Applejack have already gotten the door open.
“C’mon in!” Sunset calls. “Jackie and I are getting everything out of the way!”
Mac nods for me to go ahead, and I give him a thankful smile as I scuttle past and into the apartment. The scent of the place is calming in a way that I know is probably unhealthy. To me, her apartment is a ‘safe place’ because it’s where Sunset lives, and Sunset is safe.
No one else. Just Sunset.
They’ve already dragged the table out of the way, and I move past as Sunset nods to Applejack and they move over to the small den.
“Where’s the mattress going?” I ask, trying to find a place to fit an entire Full mattress but I can’t—
“You got that side, Jackie?” Sunset asks, rather than answering as she moves to one side of the couch.
“Got it,” Applejack calls back.
My stomach drops down somewhere near my knees as I realise Sunset’s intention and, sure enough, Sunset braces the couch on her side as Applejack gets a grip underneath, lets out a low grunt of effort, and lifts. The muscles in her shoulders and arms strain as she gets the couch up on its side and Sunset shuffles it backward as she does until they reach the wall of the apartment.
“Alright, let’s swing'er t’the side on three,” Applejack says with a strained grunt. “One… two… go!”
Sunset and Applejack shift the couch in one concerted motion, tucking the piece of furniture against the wall and underneath the staircase that goes up to Sunset’s loft bedroom.
“Whew, that ain’t gonna be fun t’get outta there,” Applejack says dryly. “But we’ll get’er done.”
“You're supposed to say three! Not go!” Sunset gripes, panting around the words before smiling, leaning in, and giving her friend another hug. “I appreciate the help.”
“Ain’t a problem, sugarcube,” Applejack says. “Unfortunately, we can’t stay’n chat. Like Ah said, got deliveries to make.”
“No problem, drive safe, okay?” Sunset leans in and hugs Applejack one more time as Big Mac lays the mattress down on the floor where the couch used to be.
While Sunset sees Applejack and Mac out of the apartment, I can’t bring myself to unglue my feet from the floor as I stare down at the mattress.
Unreasonable.
This is completely unreasonable.
There is no reason for Sunset to go to this kind of extreme for me. There’s no reason for anyone to go to this kind of extreme for me. Sunset is turning her apartment upside to accommodate me, this is too much! I can’t—
“You’re right.”
I nearly jump at the sound of Sunset’s voice as she quietly closes the door, and I turn to her, opening my mouth to tell her I can’t let her do this, or to demand she put her apartment back the way it was.
The gray expression on her face stops me.
“About them only helping because of me, I mean,” Sunset continues as she sheds her jacket and hangs it up by the door. “You’re right.”
“I… am?” I say after a moment.
“Yeah,” Sunset says, nodding as she starts pulling the bedclothes free of the bag, shakes out the fitted sheet, and tosses me a corner of it.
“But they’re your friends,” I say cautiously, finding myself on the wrong foot as I’m suddenly defending them, but Sunset just nods to that too.
“I know,” she replies as she pulls the sheet taut from her end. “But—” Sunset gestures out towards the city— “that doesn’t mean they see us, and I guess the tricky thing is realising that that doesn’t make them bad people.”
It takes me a moment to realise that when Sunset says ‘us’, she’s talking about her and I, and every other homeless person in Canterlot. Somehow, I keep forgetting that she used to be in my shoes, homeless and alone. It’s almost impossible to imagine her that way because she’s so… incredible. Sunset is independent and strong and brilliant, and arguably she must have been that way even then because she got herself out of homelessness whereas I could barely plan as far as my next meal.
“Homeless people are a little invisible,” Sunset says as she straightens up from the mattress to toss me a few pillows. “They mean well, though.”
I nod as I set the pillows down and start laying the sheets out, followed by a warm quilted comforter while Sunset falls back to the kitchen to start pulling out dishes and ingredients for whatever dinner plans are. I’ve already got the bed made and tidy before I realise that Sunset had managed to neatly cut past my protests about the bed while I was lost in thought.
Scowling down at the bed, I look back up at Sunset as I try to work up the courage to make my demand except…
“What’s wrong?” Is what actually comes out of my mouth as Sunset is looking down at a piece of paper and a pile of ingredients.
“It’s uhm… it's a recipe,” Sunset says before looking up at me. “Chicken soup, except I’m kind of an awful cook, but this uh…” she nods down at the ingredients, “this looks simple enough, just don’t expect too much, okay?”
I step over the bed and into the kitchen, look between the ingredients, then over at the paper in Sunset’s hand.
“May I?” I hold out a hand, and Sunset raises an eyebrow, but nods and puts the paper in my open palm.
I read over it. She’s right, it’s really simple. Childishly simple, actually. It’s a little funny that Sunset, of all people, is so intimidated by the prospect of what amounts to browning some chicken and boiling some vegetables.
“I can do it if you want.”
The words pass my lips before I have a chance to stop them, and I freeze, then look up. The expression on Sunset’s face is one of surprise, and… relief?
“Really?” She asks softly. “You can cook?”
“This isn’t really cooking it’s more like—” I clam up, realising I may have just inadvertently made fun of Sunset.
“Thank the Scribe!” Sunset groans, sagging in relief. “Because I am a terrible cook!”
A tiny laugh escapes me then, and with it, Sunset starts laughing too. For a brief, brief moment I actually feel almost normal, and on the heels of that, I say something I don’t think I’d ever have had the courage to say otherwise.
“I know,” I admit. “That green tea you made was really burnt.”