//------------------------------// // 3. Anniversary // Story: Long-Distance // by Bicyclette //------------------------------// Wallflower barely registered Sunset’s words in her journal as she thought about the dream again. That stupid plastic plant by her bedside, so vivid and garishly green in her mind’s eye. That feeling of dread. That awful, familiar dread of not knowing what to say, and hating herself for it, except so much worse. Then the blurred sight of scuffed tile floor as she stumbled out of the hospice room, barely placing one foot in front of the other, until she collapsed into that blur of wonderful orange and red that was outside waiting for her. Waiting to hold her, to softly caress her neck as she sobbed, to be strong and silent and warm. Did she miss that warmth? Is that why she had been having it so much again lately? Or maybe it was because it was the anniversary. Third anniversary of that memory. First anniversary of the last time she would ever feel that warmth again. She wanted to talk about it with the Sunset that was in front of her, but she couldn’t. Not while Sunset was avoiding talking about things by pretending everything was fine. Wallflower sighed. Was this the right time to bring it up? But if she never did, it never would be. She wrote in the next blank line, despite Sunset still writing hers above. Sunset. Rarity told me about Maud. Sunset’s writing stopped in its tracks as she absorbed Wallflower’s interjection. She continued on the line below. She did? Yes. She heard it from Twilight, and she thought I’d already heard it from you. I had to pretend I knew what she was talking about. You know how bad I am at that! Were you just not going to tell me that she’s sick at all? What would have happened if I asked about how Maud was doing a year from now? It’s just so horrible. How could I tell you? How could I add any more awful news to your life? Wallflower sighed. Sunset, this isn’t about me. Maud and Starlight are your friends, not mine. Starlight’s been your friend for years. You have to be affected by this. You have to be hurting. How can I say that I’m hurting? I’m not the one it’s happening to. But you are, Sunset. You’re hurting, too, because you care about the people you love. Just because your world isn’t dying doesn’t mean the awful things that happen there aren’t awful anymore. I want to hear about it, Sunset. I don’t want you to hide it from me. I just don’t know how to tell you this kind of thing when I’m the one who abandoned you all in a dying universe. You didn’t abandon us. You gave us time. Time I stole from you. A memory lit up in Wallflower as she remembered the last time she had to respond to her saying that. It had been a year. She felt funny for missing it. You know that’s not how it worked. You know what they told us. We were getting closer to destruction with every baby that was being born. We were always doomed. We just didn’t know it. I know. Same as it ever was. I’m just so used to there being a solution. An artifact I can steal, or a portal to another dimension I can jump into. But there isn’t this time, and all I can do is sit here helplessly and watch it all happen. Doing nothing. And I can’t stand it. But you’re not going to do nothing, Sunset. You’ll be there for Starlight and Maud, and not only them but all of their friends. And you’ll be here with me and all of our friends, through the many, many years we have left. And I want you to be in our lives, Sunset. Good, bad, all of it. That’s what it means to still be here. There was a pause before Sunset replied. Okay. I’ll still be here. Another pause. It’s just so hard for me to think about them. It’s bad enough knowing I’m going to lose Maud, but it’s so much worse that when I see her and Starlight, I can’t help but think about how that’s going to be us later. I’m going to watch Starlight be destroyed and I know that will be me. Wallflower thought about that stupid fake plant. But you’ll be able to watch her put herself back together again, with the love and support of you and all of her friends. It’ll be just so awful, but she’ll find a way to go on. People always do. She imagined Sunset at that point. Would the years of built-up dread make that point harder? You’re right. And I shouldn’t even be talking about Maud like she’s already gone. I should focus on our time with her while she’s still here, instead of what comes after. Exactly. Same for us, you know? We have a lot of time. She looked at the notification on her phone that counted down the time, which most people kept hidden by default. Occasionally, a day or two would get added to the count, but not very often. It’s going to be a long time from now. Who knows where we’ll even be then? What do you mean? Nineteen years is a long time, Sunset. I’m just being realistic. How long can we go on like this? The words sat heavy and silent on the page. Sunset replied. Even if we’re not together like that, you know I’ll still care a lot about you, right? And all of our friends, and everyone I’ve ever met in my life over there? No matter what, to me, it’s going to be the worst thing that has ever happened. Wallflower smiled sadly. She was right. She would hurt no matter what. I know. I’m still here. She held her pen on the dot. An orange glow joined hers. She closed her eyes for a moment, to imagine its warmth. When she opened them again, she saw that both glows were gone, despite her still firmly holding down her pen. Frowning, she turned the page to the next blank one and drew one line, then another, then another, pushing harder with the pen each time until she was almost tearing the paper. No glow. Nothing. Her dread built as nothing she tried could bring the glow back or make anything new appear that she did not write herself. Not different pens, not writing on previous pages, nothing. As far as she could tell, the book in her hands was now nothing more than a bundle of dead paper. Not knowing what else to do, she screamed.