//------------------------------//
// Begin Again 
// Story: The Incredible Gravitational Pull of Canterlot Donut Shops 
// by mushroompone 
//------------------------------//

The bell above the door sounded precisely like his magic.

It halted Soarin’s thoughts completely, and he barely managed to mumble his way through the rest of his sentence.

The smell of the place hit him square in the chest, and for a second he was worried he might tumble over. It somehow hadn't changed, even after all these years-- the same scent of sugary frosting hung in the air, the same chemical sharpness of the all-purpose cleaner Joe used on the floors, the same distant notes of coffee and cream twisting through it all.

"Huh?" Spitfire nudged him. "What's that, Soarin?"

Soarin blinked. "Uh…" He chuckled. "What was I saying?"

"The pie?"

"Oh, yeah!" At the mention of pie, Soarin's brain kick-started once more. "This is the place I had my first slice of homemade apple pie! Totally changed my life."

Spitfire rolled her eyes. "Yeah. No kidding."

"I like what I like, Spits," Soarin said, heaving a sigh not unlike that of a father while teasing his kids. "And I like me an apple pie."

"I'm not one to turn down an apple pie myself," Spitfire agreed.

The two ponies fell into line, expertly ignoring the stolen glances of the other customers. There was a time when such looks and whispers may have made Soarin's heart skip a beat, but it was all part of being a Wonderbolt nowadays.

"Y'know I used to work here?" Soarin said.

"No kidding."

"Yeah! One summer, like… I dunno, years and years ago." The more he talked about it, the more his voice seemed to soften. "Same summer I got my cutie mark, actually," he murmured.

Spitfire gave him an odd look. "Wow. Must've been a pretty crazy summer for you, huh?"

"I guess…" Soarin rubbed his snout absent-mindedly. "I don't remember much of it, to be honest. Just… well, just the beginning and the end."

The morning sunlight was warm and bright, and it glinted off the display case with impressive power. Soarin strained to see past it, even as it stamped dark patches of color over his vision.

"Uh…" Spitfire cleared her throat. "You okay, Soarin?"

Soarin closed his eyes, and the colors danced there, too. "Yeah. Sorry, sorry," he said, shaking his head. "Just… well, y'know."

Spitfire frowned. "Yeah. Sure I do. I know I definitely get all weird and distant thinking about the summer jobs I had as a teenager." She snickered lightly. "Seriously, you good?"

The booths. They were exactly the same as they had been all those years ago, despite the new cracks in the vinyl. Soarin found himself scanning each seat for the familiar head of scraggly orange hair. It was nearly automatic, even now, and he found himself considering creative breakfast combinations to serve up.

Glazed donut and an iced latte.

Blueberry scones and peach tea.

Apple pie and cinnamon coffee.

"Alright, yikes!" Spitfire laughed and clapped her friend on the shoulder. "I get it! Apple pie, comin' up!"

Soarin forced a small laugh, but his mind kept roaming through the menu.

Strawberry pastry and a smoothie.

Peanut butter bagel and a hot cocoa.

Cranberry-orange muffin and chai tea.

To say that this was the first Soarin had thought of Sunburst since that summer would have been a lie. This was, however, the first time he had really felt it.

The acceleration in his chest.

The weightlessness of his hooves.

The--

The bell above the door rang again, and Soarin instinctively looked over his shoulder to see who had arrived. He had to crane his neck to see over the crowds, and then only caught glimpses of the pony in the door.

She was short, purple head-to-hoof, and carefully counting through a hoofful of bits with her blue magic.

"I dunno," she mused. "We're kinda low on funds. Why don't we hit a food cart instead?"

"Let me see."

Only three words, and then the sound of magic.

Soarin ducked his head down, trying desperately to see around those waiting in line behind him.

"Dude, do you mind?"

But Soarin hardly heard it. "Uh-- 'scuse me, folks," he muttered, weaving between them and towards the ponies at the back of the line.

"We've got plenty," the voice continued, dropping the stack of bits musically back into his friend's hoof. "A breakfast combo is only four bits here."

His friend snorted incredulously. "How do you know what breakfast costs?"

Soarin pushed further through the crowds, which parted at the sight of the celebrity.

Each step felt like falling-- or perhaps like floating.

The moment of weightlessness at the top of a skyward arc.

"I used to go here a lot," he continued. "When I was Celestia's student."

"Oh, that's right!" His friend laughed. "I always forget that--"

Soarin skidded to a halt.

There was a moment then, however brief, that felt different than the others.

A poet may have called it love at first sight, though the poet would have been wrong. A cynic would have called it infatuation, though that would have been wrong, as well. 

Soarin would have called it a sunrise.

Sunburst may have compared it to the moment of silence as a wave crests, seconds before crashing onto the shore.

In other words, the beginning.

But not the beginning at all, of course-- because they had been here before.

In this place.

With this feeling.

"Uh… hi?" Starlight furrowed her brows. "Hey, you're a Wonderbolt, right?"

"Starlight, shut up," Sunburst muttered. He didn't take his eyes off Soarin.

Starlight looked taken aback, but dutifully closed her mouth.

"Hi," Soarin breathed.

"Uh…" Sunburst blinked. "H-hi."

They stared at one another.

Spitfire snuck up behind Soarin, curious and aloof as always. She and Starlight shared their own look of confusion and mild amusement.

"I like your, uh…" Soarin pointed to Sunburst's face, then reached for his own chin. "Your beard."

Sunburst's own hoof flew to his beard. "Th-thank you," he said. "I like your… uniform."

Soarin chuckled, and pedalled his wings a bit. "Thanks."

The rush.

The light.

"Do you wanna eat?" Soarin asked. "Like… together? H-here?"

Sunburst smiled and adjusted his spectacles. "Yeah. Uh-- yes." He chuckled, a little squeaking sound. "Yes. I would."

His laugh sounded precisely like the bell above the door, Soarin thought.

Soarin began to laugh along.