Little Shop Down Canterlot Road
Canterlot hadn’t changed much, Sunset thought. In the years that went by, it still had the same sort of people – ponies, Sunset corrected herself – the same paved streets, the same uniform rows of opulent homes and the shops that lined them.
In some strange way, perhaps that’s why it was, and always would be, home to her.
‘Because you’d like it that way, wouldn’t you? Everything to be the way it used to be… ’
Shaking the intrusive thought away, she continued on her way, wiping her eyes and snout, and tightening her red-and-green wool scarf around her neck. Beautifully knitted, patterned after flowers in the meadow, it was the only article of clothing on her. Along with her saddlebag, filled with everything she’d deemed essential, all the things that she’d brought across worlds.
The scarf, special as it was to her, wasn’t particularly comfortable the longer the Sun bore down on her figure. But she felt safe, and this was enough – for now.
It was the afternoon, a few hours from midday, give or take. Not very precise, Sunset mused. Twilight – Princess Twilight had sheepishly admitted that, for all her practice the past year, she wasn’t quite proficient in wielding the Sun-and-Moon Amulet.
Sunset hadn’t had the heart to tell her that, much as she appreciated Twilight’s company, she was seeking Celestia, and only Celestia. Her shoulders had sunk when Twilight informed her of the Princess’s retirement, and that Seaward Shoals was a good two days away from Canterlot.
It hadn’t occurred to her to keep in touch with Twilight this past year. Another entry on her list of things she’d screwed up then. And sweet, kind Twilight only had reassurances to spare, telling her that forgetting to contact her was understandable. It had been a very busy year for both of them, between the debut of her rule and now Sunset’s post-graduation.
This hadn’t changed anything for Sunset. Once all the pleasantries were out of the way, she’d excused herself for a walk down the road from the Palace. Two days were too long a wait to see her old teacher again. And now…
… What, exactly?
She stopped a good distance away from the Palace’s gates, taking in the view. It wasn’t a particularly busy day, all in all. Most of Canterlot was still at work this fine Spring afternoon. That left only a scant few who walked the city’s tightly paved roads – from the street cleaners sweeping the sidewalks, to young lovers walking side-by-side. Above, an occasional pegasus or griffon flew by, weather teams tending to the cloud cover.
‘Cool it, Sunny. Breathe, in, and out,’ she thought, going through the usual motions.
Cadance had taught her these, a long time ago. Another face to revisit–
‘No, focus,’ she thought, shaking her head. ‘Just keep your feet– hooves, hooves on the ground. Hooves on the ground...’
Her thoughts faded into the warm afternoon breeze when her eyes fell upon the store before her. A new teashop now occupied the space beside it, but there was no mistaking the all-too-familiar facade or the flowers presented in racks and pots hanging just outside its window.
‘... I’ve been here before.’
Of course she had. She’d strolled down this road so often before whenever she’d reached her limit for the day. Ambitious as she was back then, even the proud, haughty Sunset Shimmer still needed a break or two.
It was this little flower shop, she remembered, which she’d hung out in. A quaint little place, far from the stress of palace life. A secluded corner to gather her thoughts. Respite from all the anxieties that plagued her so.
Somewhere she could share her worries.
As if drawn by magic, she pushed the glass door open, the tiny bell ringing above her. Her hoofsteps sounded gentle against the stony floor. Once the door swung shut, Sunset took a deep breath, the memories of this space slowly returning.
Unlike most of Canterlot, large parts of the Palace that had once been her home had to be rebuilt following the most recent battle – Sunset wasn’t really sure how a filly could be partially responsible for such devastation, but Twilight was insistent – with a shining new crystal throne-room, freshly commissioned stained-glass windows, and a refurbished library, updated with the finest works from across this interconnected world. All befitting its new occupant and steward.
Here, though, much had remained the same. Still the same, towering racks of flowerpots that reached the ceiling from a gray stony floor, motes of dust floating in the afternoon Sun’s light that streamed in lazily through the window, or the light of hanging lanterns set against red brick walls. Tiny candles were scattered throughout, softer in their light, but providers of gentle scents that mingled with those of the flowers.
The flowers. Sunset remembered them very well. Flowers, from moon orchids to roses, dandelions and even chrysanthema, neatly arranged in their pots, made into wreaths, or wrapped in fancy little bouquets.
The scent of lavender emanating from pots and boxes near the door was strong here as well, much like in the palace halls. Those were welcome additions to the Palace, Sunset had decided. Soothing, calming…
Much like the shop she stood in now, so many years ago.
‘Maybe I should get some,’ said Sunset, sniffing a nearby daisy. ‘Hmm, or maybe I should ask if these are for snacks, too. I think I forgot breakfast...’
The sound of hooves on wood from upstairs told Sunset she wouldn’t be alone for long.
That brought some relief. But she wondered if the previous owners had retired. An earthpony couple on the older side, they’d mentioned retiring during the few times Sunset slowed enough in her lamentations to actually listen. She asked herself how long ago that was. There were plenty of difficult-to-reach spots here, plenty of flowers that required minute attention.
Still, the wet spots on the floor, the humid air, and the freshly-cleaned empty pots, one of which she held in her aura, told Sunset much. Someone else had taken over, and, from the looks of it, someone quite diligent.
Strange, though. The couple hadn’t hired any help from what she could remember. They hadn’t seen the need to. Family-owned, they’d insisted, through and through, so perhaps they’d found–
Wait.
“Sunset?”
Her blood ran cold.
Shivers ran right down her spine. So familiar, she knew – yet distant, like some forgotten shore. Gently putting down the pot she held, Sunset turned around to meet her host.
There, halfway down the stairs, stood Wallflower Blush, her eyes wide and mouth hanging open.
Sunset fainted.
* * * * *
It had taken Sunset a fair moment to come around. Hitting her head on the stony floor hadn’t done wonders for her. Whoever it had been she saw, at the very least, they’d had the courtesy to wait by her side till she awoke.
From thereon, it all went by like a blur. Sunset mumbled scattered reassurances that she was, in fact, just fine, while her erstwhile companion insisted on checking if she’d got hurt at all.
A slurred, half-assed joke on lost brain cells did not go over well. Or perhaps the other mare did not understand it at all.
Whatever the case, by the time Sunset’s mind resettled on the here and now, she was seated outside what could only be the neighbouring teashop. The Sun was setting soon, and, with it, the hour had come for many citizens to unwind. The streets had grown a little busier than they’d been when she’d entered the flower shop, but nothing too distracting or discomforting to Sunset’s stricken senses.
Sunset turned her eyes away from a well-dressed unicorn couple, then breathed a sigh of relief upon sighting her saddlebags slung over her chair. Her scarf, too, still hung around her neck. Then, her gaze fell upon a cup of tea. A quick glance at the rising steam told her it couldn’t have been there for too long.
Which meant–
The door behind her swung open, accompanied by the sound of a ringing bell.
“You’re lucky Chamomile’s still in town. I don’t exactly have space downstairs in the shop since, well, we’re not kids anymore.”
Sunset’s eyes widened, and she turned in time to meet the flower shop's owner, eye to eye, just as they closed the door. She spluttered, then cleared her throat.
“I… It’s you… You’re here-”
On reflex, she reached for her scarf around her neck.
The light green mare shrugged and continued on her way. Gently setting down the platter she was carrying, she took her seat opposite Sunset and took off her gardening hat. Warm, brown eyes met Sunset’s own. Her freckles had somewhat faded, clear even under the dimming light of the Sun. Her old sweater was nowhere to be seen, and her lush, dark green mane was neater for the most part, with few strands out of place. But there was no mistaking the mare.
“Hi, Sunset. Funny you should mention that, I was just heading out to the post office,” Wallflower Blush said with a half-smile. “I, um, I forgot what you’d liked. Tea wasn’t exactly my thing so I hope you won’t mind green tea.”
Wallflower.
Here.
With her.
“Uh, Sunset?”
Sunset blinked, then shook her head.
“Oh no, no, it’s, it’s not... Really my thing either, um,” said Sunset. Seeing the tiniest hints of a frown upon Wallflower’s face, she quickly lifted her cup from the platter, flashing an awkward smile. “B-but it’s fine. I don’t mind tea.”
Before Wallflower could say anything, she took a sip. The herbal blend tickled her tongue, so very warm and comforting.
“Ah… that’s, it’s nice. Thanks, Wally– Wallflower.”
Wallflower raised an eyebrow.
“You can thank Chamomile for that. Anyways, uh, I figured coffee would be your thing, you know, but Chamomile doesn’t do that,” said Wallflower, shrugging. “Dad used to wake you up when the store closed.”
‘Dad…’ Sunset repeated, internally. Wally had rarely mentioned her parents.
“He did, didn’t he?” Sunset squawked. That was a partial lie. She could hardly recall the old stallion’s name, or his wife’s. “I… thought he’d be around, um… Are they okay?”
Keep it steady, Sunset thought. Step by step. Best not to scare her. Best not to assume anything.
“They retired,” Wallflower said with a touch of wistfulness. “Couple years ago, after you… Anyways, I stuck around to keep this place going and, all in all, it’s… fine, I guess.”
‘Wally wanted a flower shop, too…’ Sunset thought, the unspoken words dancing at the tip of her tongue. But that didn’t come to pass. Wouldn’t ever…
She downed the rest of her cup. It was neither coffee, nor a glass of wine, but it would have to do.
Wallflower’s voice cut in again.
“So. What brought you back here?” the mare asked, clearing her throat. “Honestly, I didn’t think you’d be around. It’s... it’s been a while, you know.”
There it was. The very question Sunset had dreaded.
“O-oh, yeah. Yeah, I’m around,” said Sunset. “Here, listen, um... it’s, it’s complicated–”
“Then uncomplicate it.”
“No, really, it’s a bit much–”
“I’m not an idiot, Sunset. Tell me.”
Sunset gulped. Then a sigh. Her Wally was assertive too, when she needed to be. But before she could spill it all, a glance at Wallflower, who now rested a chin on her hoof – how they had the exact same way of doing so, Sunset couldn’t tell – provided her with an idea.
“Actually,” said Sunset, “I think I want to hear about you first. Catch up on old times, right?”
Her own smile must have been quite unconvincing, for it took Wallflower a moment or two to blink. A few ‘uhms’ and ‘erms’ were uttered, before she finally cleared her throat, ears flicking.
“...You never asked me that before,” said Wallflower at last. Did her cheeks darken? “It’s… always been your show, whenever you came along.”
“Yeah. I guess it was,” said Sunset. She touched her forehoof to Wallflower’s own, and beamed. It lasted for all of a second before she withdrew. “S-sorry, force of, force of habit, uh…”
Despite what could only be a blush forming on her cheeks, Wallflower spoke nothing of it as she took a long, slow sip from her own cup.
“I-I mean, um… I don’t know where to start, either, phew,” Wallflower said, once she’d set her cup down, rubbing the back of her head. “There’s not much to tell.”
“I doubt that,” said Sunset, smirking despite herself. “I’m all ears. Promise.”
Wallflower stared at her for a moment. Her eyes darted from her cup, to Sunset, then back again. “Okay,” she said. “It’s… Well, you asked about Mom and Dad, right?”
“Y-yeah, I did,” Sunset said quickly. ‘And a lot more than that,’ she added, without saying aloud.
“Yeah, erm… Well, they’re fine,” said Wallflower, with a sigh. She stole a curious glance at Sunset as she took another sip from her cup. “Ever since you left, the place got quieter, I got, um, less… Anyways, I had no one else to talk to, so life goes on, I guess. Dad couldn’t carry more than three, then two boxes, until he couldn’t carry much at all. Mom kept forgetting the numbers and couldn’t crunch them as well as she used to, so…”
Wallflower pointed back at her shop.
“... I took over once I’d graduated from university. They wanted to sell it, but I just couldn’t… I couldn’t let go of it, you know? For old time’s sake.”
“It suits you,” Sunset said, to which Wallflower nodded.
“It gets hard from time to time, but I’ll manage. So I stayed here while they went off to Seaward Shoals. They’re fine, and, ’sides, I got a friend of mine living there too, so, no worries.”
“Friend of yours?” Sunset asked. She leaned forward, resting her chin on both her hooves.
“Yeah,” said Wallflower, throwing her gaze to the side. The tiny smile she now wore warmed Sunset, a little bit. “She moved there, I don’t know, a year ago, went to work at the post office. It made sending the lavender she orders, or letters to her marefriend all the time, way easier. I mean, uh, her sending letters to her marefriend, not that I send letters to her, um… Sorry.”
Wallflower took a deep breath.
“Sorry. That was a lot.”
“Oh, don’t worry – told you, I’m all ears. I bet it did make things easier,” Sunset affirmed. Wallflower glanced back at her. “But it’s good to hear you’ve got friends.”
There was a twinkle in Wallflower's eyes. Her smile only widened as she moved a forehoof to brush away loose strands of mane from her eyes.
“Guess I do. I got my college pals– they’re still around, over in Ponyville, by the way. Roseluck, Daisy, Lily, they’re good ponies. Wrote letters to them a couple times, but Ponyville… Ponyville’s pretty wacky as is, so I don’t mind if they reply late. It’s a long story.”
She took a long sip from her cup, shaking her head.
From what little Sunset had seen of the town, ‘wacky’ certainly was quite the word to use. She could never forget how the town had gone into an uproar upon sighting her classmates, all of them unused to being on four hooves, that one Spring break. The paperwork must have been stacked a mile high, no matter how much Twilight insisted it wasn’t.
Those thoughts quickly fell away. Only Wallflower–only Wallflower mattered. Peaceful, winding walks after school, past old forests and fields. Hours of silence in their apartment, a break in the preparations for exams, knitting, reading, listening to music, holding hands or one another. Long, gentle talks by the sidewalk, or the cafeteria, or the local park, hearing Wallflower spill all her worries when for so long she’d kept quiet about them...
Just like now. Everything, back the way it should be. Just as she wanted it to be.
“Nah, I get you,” Sunset said, chuckling. “I mean, I only got to see the town once or twice but, phew, whatever Twilight told me does not compare at all. And that was a slow day, they told me.”
“...You… you know Princess Twilight?”
“I do! I write to her, too. I got busy, but at least I got to see her here, and Princess Celestia too, couple years back–”
Wallflower’s eyes widened. Sunset’s words died in her throat.
‘Shit.’
“Wh-what I meant to say was…”
“...That this wasn’t the first time you came here, huh,” Wallflower finished. It wasn’t a question. It was a pointed statement. The twinkle in her eyes that had come when she reminisced about her parents and flower shop and everything in the years that went by, all gone.
“No, n-no it wasn’t, but…”
Wallflower rolled her eyes and crossed her forehooves. “Right, so are you gonna tell me where you’ve been, Sunset, for all these years, or are you just gonna keep changing the subject?’
She’d screwed up again. She always did. Always, always when it came to her…
No. Not the time. She was here, here with her, safe and sound.
“Sunset,” Wallflower continued, “I… I just want to know why… why you never–”
“Okay,” Sunset said, raising her hooves in defeat. “I’ll... start from the beginning. All the way. I promise. So, there’s this Mirror...”
Sunset told it all as the minutes went by. How she had turned away from the teacher she called her mother and gone through the Crystal Mirror, crossing into a realm parallel to Equestria. A world she’d thought was hers for the taking.
How she’d toyed with the inhabitants and made herself into the vain ruler of her own metaphorical kingdom.
How, in her darkest hour, a visitor from the world she’d left behind reached out and showed her the way, and set her down the path to redeem herself, fighting villains from a trio of seductress singers, to the petty principal of a rival school.
All the little details that mattered. All the friendships she’s made. All the treasured memories…
… Well, most of them, at least. Wallflower didn’t need to know yet. Not when she was here, looking at her, her frown replaced with a look of awe.
“... And here I am,” Sunset finished. “I’m, well, I’m here, graduated, and all. We’re going– we’ve gone our separate ways and all. You know how it goes, just… The whole wide world ahead, and I haven’t the slightest clue how to get there.”
“Wow,” said Wallflower. “I… that’s–“
“I know,” Sunset added. “It’s a lot to take in…”
“Is that why you didn’t come back?” Wallflower asked. “Because of–”
“Because of you, Wally. Sorry that’s, that’s what I call you– other you– back there.”
“Me?” Wallflower repeated, raising an eyebrow. “What about me?”
“I… I met you, Wallflower,” said Sunset carefully. “You, in the other world.” Her voice lowered to a gentle tone. No need to tell her about the Stone. “We, well, we had our issues to settle, but...”
“But what?”
Slowly, Sunset touched her scarf.
“One thing led to another and, we had a thing going on, you and I,” Sunset continued. “For a bit. A-at least.”
Memories threatened to surge yet again. Sunset withdrew her hoof as she averted her gaze, looking down at the empty cup.
“It didn’t work out, and– I–you– I messed up. Okay, I messed up again, but… I really thought I’d had it right this time but, she...”
‘Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Not here, not here.’
“You ran away.”
Sunset looked up. Wallflower was staring at her.
“What?”
“You ran away again, didn’t you?” she said, voice a little shaky. She looked off to the side.
“No,” Sunset began, unsure of her own words, “it’s not like that–”
“Look,” Wallflower said, taking a deep breath “I don’t know if you’ve forgotten but, I didn’t, okay? I know… I know why you left.”
Before Sunset could reply, Wallflower had already let out a mirthless, humourless chuckle. The smile she had when she turned her gaze back into Sunset did not reach her eyes.
“I don’t know how it started. But I remember that you’d come into the store,” said Wallflower, “this–this proud, stuck-up, gorgeous student of the Princess. I don’t know why you’d pick us, because you didn’t seem interested in the flowers, nothing, just… You just loved the sound of your own voice.”
She sighed, the tiny noise a breeze on the wind.
“You’d come in while I was around. Afternoons here and there, any day of the week. I’d know you’d finished your classes for the day because, stars above, that’s all you’d talk about. All this… All these magical, wonderful, mysterious things you’d do with the Princess. I couldn’t understand half of it, but I didn’t want to turn away. So I’d listen to you till it was time to close shop.”
Wallflower let out a snort and a chuckle. Sunset reached for her scarf, tugging at it. Sweat dripped from her brow, though whether it was from the scarf, or her growing anxiety, she couldn’t tell.
“It kept going, and going, and… One day, you started to tell me more. Everything. Every worry you had, secret anxieties you kept brushing under the rug. How you–how you feel so bad for this little orphan filly Princess Celestia had taken in, who was just the sweetest and kindest from what you told me, but you were also so jealous of her, because she’d got both a horn and a pair of wings and you didn’t.”
“Cadance,” Sunset recalled. She’d never told her either, why she’d left. Had Twilight or Celestia ever let her know? “Yeah, I knew Cadance. She really was the sweetest.”
“Yeah. And not just her, too. You had this colt wrapped around your hoof, and sometimes you’d tell me how you and Cadance and him had just so, so much fun playing around in the Palace, just the three of you, and sometimes just you and him, snooping around the gardens. But you’d tell me, and I know you were telling me, because you’d lean closer to me, and just… just say to me, ‘Can I tell you a secret? I don’t think it’s working out.’”
Sunset winced.
“I thought it wasn't right. I thought that you had this, this special somepony, right? And... and you went to me to tell all your secrets instead, how you didn't like the way he's such a nice goof, that all he thought about was that you’d marry him, that he didn’t seem to care all that much about what you wanted. You’d tell me all of this behind his back and... and... and I kept listening. Because you made me feel like I was worth your time instead. That... that I meant something.”
Wallflower drew a deep breath, broken by a sniffle.
“I know I wasn’t just seeing things. Or feeling things, because you told me you’d trusted me, and then I told you that that I cared, that I wasn’t like him, that I wanted you to succeed, because that’s what you wanted to hear, and all I wanted was to see you laugh and smile and you did, you did it in the shop, that stupid pretty laugh and smile, and that was just–”
“Wallflower–”
“I was happy, okay?” Wallflower cut her off. “I was happy, and I know you were, too. But then you just, you just left–a-and no one told me where you even went!” Her voice rose with each word, her eyes blinking away tears. “And, and… And now, now I listen to you, and you had something going on all these years and years, and you could've come back but you didn’t. Why? Why?”
It stung, hard, no matter how much Sunset told herself it shouldn’t. But even as she opened her mouth to muster a pathetic retort, nothing came of it amidst her shallowing breaths. The mare opposite her wiped her nose, now breathing rapidly, too.
“I got… I got ponies who listen a-and talk to me,” Wallflower continued, unabated. “But for a while, no one reached out to me, no one wanted to talk to me unless I went to them first, and... and I did manage. I got the stupid shop going way past its due date, a-and I have ponies counting on me now for deliveries or–or just talks with them, and my college friends wanted to keep in touch too when I reached out to them, and it was just, it was just right, everything was just right, and I’d moved on and–”
She shook her head. Then, her glare sharpened into daggers, straight into Sunset’s heart.
“And then you had to be there, you stood there in my shop like nothing’s changed and-and fainted like it was you who had to wait years for you to come back or just, just tell me where you even went! I thought you remembered, that you wanted to catch up because you'd missed out on so much. But now you just told me you could've come back this whole time and… And that you… forgot about me. Like I didn’t matter...”
Forgot, forgot, forgot…
Forgotten twice, now.
Wallflower didn’t have to know that. But she’d know, of course. She’d know what a screw up she’d be to forget her so easily.
“Maybe I was an idiot,” Wallflower hissed. “Maybe I never mattered at all. Maybe I should just go–!”
“NO!”
Sunset stood up, slamming her hooves on the table. Silence followed once the cups had settled. A few heads turned across the street from the corner of her eye. Rapid breathing from her. Her hooves still on the table. Wallflower, eyes wide, now leaning as far away from her as she could.
“Sorry just– I’m sorry,” Sunset said, sitting back down and wiping at her eyes. “If… if you need anything, I can help, but… just, just don’t go. Please. Please.”
“...What do you want?” Wallflower’s voice came out as a strangled whisper. “Did you just come back here so, so you can–”
“...Toy with your emotions?” Sunset finished for her, pausing to draw a few calming breaths. “No. No I’m… I’m not that filly anymore. I’m just… Sunset.”
Sunset forced herself to smile. A half smile, but a smile just for the mare opposite her.
“You do matter. You matter to these– these people– these ponies you talk about. You matter more than I will here, and… Don’t– don’t think less of yourself. I didn’t know what I’d lost. Now I know, but… Don’t blame yourself for it, Wallflower.”
Forget it.
Useless, useless, useless...
It didn’t matter. It won’t ever matter–ever again.
“And… I guess I just wanted to reach out, ” Sunset continued. “See how the town’s been. I guess I did run back then. Everyone’s got their own thing going and… and I just can’t let go, I guess. I don’t know what’s ahead and I’m just… scared. Like I was back then. Guess nothing’s changed.”
Sunset drew a sharp breath. “Do you want me to go?”
Wallflower didn’t look at her, staring down at her cup. “I don’t know. I just don’t know anymore.”
“Okay. Then I’ll make it easier for you.”
She got off her chair, tightened her scarf, and put her saddlebags over her withers. Her bitter, somber smile softened as she rummaged through her bags, then withdrew a few bits.
“Here,” she said, placing the bits on the platter. “It’s on me. I’ll see you around, Wallflower. Take care.”
Wallflower’s face was unreadable. Her eyes glistened in the light of the setting Sun when she returned her gaze to Sunset. They were older than Sunset had ever remembered them being.
“Yeah. See you, Sunset.”
* * * * *
For only the second time that day, Sunset found herself before the Palace’s towering gates. The guards that stood to either side did not acknowledge her presence, but one request from her, and the gates would open.
Now, however, she could hardly muster the words.
‘It doesn’t matter,’ she thought. ‘None of it ever will…’
She turned away from the gates, looking back down the street. Somewhere further down stood the little old flower shop. Somewhere… Wallflower waited for her.
Shaking her head, willing her thoughts and worries away, Sunset sat down on the sidewalk. She reached into her saddlebags and withdrew the only device she’d bothered bringing from the Mirror-world. She’d charged it fully before leaving; she’d made sure of it. If it was somehow drained, perhaps Twilight could will the necessary technology into existence.
It had taken her a good while to figure out how to use it when she was lacking fingers, but those were days long past. Now, she fiddled with it just as handily as any other tool, her magic pressing against the screen…
There. Her messages. All the memories within.
She glanced at the profile.
Last Online–
‘Look away. Don’t look at it, don’t look at it…’
So she did. She scrolled, and scrolled, looking past awkward greetings and apologies, casual flirting when they’d first started seeing each other (were they always that awkward?), all the little things Wally did, like how she’d left a smiley face after each ‘good night’.
See you tomorrow Sunny, and good night :)
Im heading over to Pinkie’s, need anything?
I got a couple flowers just for you here, if you get here fast enough~
Aww that’s a cute kitten, thanks Sunny!
Im not feeling well. Come over, i need you here
I love you
Photos passed her by. Selfies shared in the night. Group photos. Little candid pictures they’d taken, like Sunset by the lakeside, or Wally looking down a beautiful valley...
Ignoring how wet and warm her eyes felt, Sunset smiled and laughed, recalling all of it, even as she felt that lump rise in her throat again.
Then, she found it. Sunset froze in her scrolling, her heart skipping a beat.
Be happy, Sunny. Take care of yourself.
Right below came the distraught replies.
Hey Wally you okay?
dont worry about calling me just do it okay?
Hey
Wally ar e you there
wally
The messages went by, meshing into one, desperate, frantic plea amidst unanswered calls–the one time it was answered.
Nothing from Wally, nothing throughout, and then–
I’m sorry, for everything
AJ got a new puppy today
I went to the park again, they added a new fountain. Wish you were here.
She scrolled until she reached the last message, typed and sent just before she passed through the Mirror, perhaps for the last time:
I miss you.
All of them, forever frozen, never to be opened, never to be read. All their memories, hers to keep– and hers alone.
Alone.
Sunset looked at the Palace one last time. Standing to her full height, she tore her gaze away back onto the streets. The Sun was setting fast. She’d thanked her lucky stars that Twilight’s sundown was a touch slower.
Twilight and Celestia could wait. But Sunset knew she couldn’t–not when she’d made a mistake for so long.
It started as a walk. Then a trot. Then, she broke into a gallop.
She galloped for a long, long time. All the talks they had, all the laughter shared, all passed her by as she galloped down the old road.
She did not stop, nor falter, till she reached the little shop down the road, out of breath. With little hesitation, she peered into the shuttered window.
Nothing.
No lanterns, no candles, no light at all.
Gritting her teeth, tears welling in her eyes, she went to the door. She gave it two, then three, then four loud, panicked knocks.
Nothing.
Nothing but the sound of glass echoing within.
‘No no no don’t… don’t let it be too-’
“Wallflower?” she called out, panting and heaving. She tapped at the window. . “Wallflower, are you there?! Please...”
But there was no use. No answer would come. It didn’t before– and it wouldn’t now.
Just as she slumped against the door, she heard hooves on cobblestone approaching in a casual trot. Wiping tears from her eyes, Sunset looked to her side. There she stood, cast in the shadow of her wide-brimmed gardener’s hat, eyes wide.
“H-hey,” Wallflower began.,“I… I thought you’d–”
Sunset closed the distance between them and threw her hooves around her, slumping onto the sidewalk.
“I’m sorry,” Sunset whispered between her sniffles. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry I left, I’m sorry I never said goodbye, I’m… I’m sorry, Wallflower.”
Her tears streamed down, staining her coat– and Wallflower’s too. Part of her wanted Wallflower to push her away, to scream at her, to turn away just as she did.
“Just… don’t go. Don’t go, please, please don’t go, Wallflower, I’m sorry…”
Silence fell between them. Nothing but her own sobs broke through the dreary night air.
Then, ever so gently, she felt a hoof wrap around her, as the mare she left behind slumped down and returned the embrace.
“...I was just–I just went to the post office, Sunset…”
Sunset’s laughter was intertwined with her sobs. But she did not let go, nor did Wallflower, her hoof pressing tighter against her back, the warmth of their coats radiating against one another.
As the last light faded above, all Sunset could think of was that, maybe, everything would be fine.
