Sunset Shimmer wasn't quite sure what was louder: the thick, heavy silence that followed after Wallflower's last whimpered apology faded out, or the instant regret hammering in her own ears.
She could have taken a deep breath. She could have been patient.Â
She could have just not said anything, let alone shout like that.
Everything Sunset saw as she looked over at Wallflower confirmed her worst fears. Drawn in on herself, Wallflower scrunched into one corner of the couch, taking up as little space as possible. Her eyes were glued to the floor, not even daring to glance Sunset's direction. Though she had fallen silent now, it was clear that she was doing everything she could not to provoke Sunset further. The latter knew that Wallflower would instantly return to fervent apologizing at the first sign of further aggression or conflict.
The reaction had been instinctive. Ingrained. Something developed over the years, honed by far too many situations just like this one.
As Sunset returned to burying her face in her hands, she longed to be able to look back up and see anything other than fear staring back.
When she saw it once more, Sunset finally dared to try and fix what she had so carelessly broken.
"I'm sorry, Wally." Sunset slowly shook her head. "I'm so—"
"Don't do that."
Mid-sentence, Sunset trailed off. Within seconds, she was scrambling to think of what she could possibly say instead, but Wallflower had beat her to it.
"Don't make excuses for me," Wallflower said, her voice somehow both wavering and steely at the same time. "You don't get to apologize to me for being honest about how I screwed up."
"I—" Dumbfounded, Sunset just blinked. "Wait, what? That's not—"
"I'm the one who messed up," Wallflower continued. "I'm the one who's been acting like a selfish idiot for weeks. It's not right for you to have to apologize just because I don't like being told what I'm doing is wrong and get all pissy about it!"
"Wally…"
"You're allowed to be mad! You should be mad!" Wallflower shook her head. "I deserve it!"
"No, you don't," Sunset said softly.
"I do! I'm doing the same thing to you I did to my mom! Being a thoughtless brat and making you hate me, only to turn around and throw a pity party the second you call me out on it!" Wallflower's voice hollowed and trembled, as if some awful truth had dawned on her. Whatever energy that had fueled her outburst instantly drained away, and her gaze—flat and empty—returned to the floor.
"No wonder she wanted me gone."
Heart sinking, Sunset stared at the floor in turn. Now look where she had led her. Another wrong move, and she wasn't sure she'd be able to pull Wallflower out of the pit Sunset had dug. She bit her lip in thought, chewing over her words, before carefully looking up at her.
"I don't hate you, Wally." Sunset let her words settle before continuing, "I was—I am— concerned, but I don't hate you. I could never hate you." Another pause. "And I shouldn't have yelled at you. I didn't need to raise my voice to say what I was thinking."
From the corner of her eye, Wallflower briefly glanced her way, then returned her gaze to the floor.
This time, Sunset released the breath she'd been holding. "This was…" About to say "Dash's idea," she cut herself off. No. There was no evading responsibility here. "This was my idea, and—"
"—And I screwed it up."
"You might've taken it too far," Sunset replied after a moment, "but that's an easy fix, isn't it? Just, y'know… swear less?"
Wallflower just shook her head again. "It's not that easy, Sunset."
"Why?"
"Because my stupid, useless brain can't handle anything without it," Wallflower said. "I know that sounds dumb, but ever since I left home, i-it's been like… like this thing that helps me to not think about everything that happened, to stay in the present and focus on myself instead of dwelling on the past or on what everyone else might be thinking about me." A bitter chuckle left her lips. "Figures that the moment I stop obsessing over how others think of me, I start acting like a stupid screaming child and make them all hate me. And of course I'd be too self-absorbed to notice."
"Look around the present right now, Wally," Sunset said with a slight smile. "You didn't leave home at all. You're home right now."
Something in Wallflower's posture shifted, but she otherwise didn't respond.
"I… I know swearing has been helpful for you in a lot of ways," Sunset continued, "and I don't want you to lose those good things. And I don't think anyone hates you either."
Wallflower hugged her knees. "Well, they should."
Sunset shook her head. "They don't see it that way. The other day at the arcade, our friends were… concerned." Again, she let her words resonate for a moment before continuing further. "Not angry with you. Not hating you. Just—wondering why."
Wallflower peeked up from her sweater sleeves. "It's the only way I can prove she can't control me anymore."
As she gradually thought through her next response, Sunset laid a hand on the couch cushion between them. The silent offering was not taken, but Wallflower nonetheless didn't move away.Â
"Being able to do something that she not only didn't let you do, but hurt you for doing… Being able to do that as much as you want, unafraid…" Sunset drummed her fingers on the cushion. "I bet that feels pretty empowering."
Wallflower's only reply was a slight nod.
"Think about it though, Wally. If the reason you're doing it is to prove she's not controlling you anymore, doesn't that mean she still is?"
For the first time in what felt like hours, Wallflower sat up and looked at Sunset. Her mouth opened and closed wordlessly, her hands shaking as her girlfriend's words seemed to echo and resonate within and without them both.
Sensing the tide brewing, Sunset reached her outstretched hand a little further.
This time, Wallflower took it just as her tears began.
Soon, Wallflower was leaning against Sunset, her head on her shoulder. Sunset held her close as she cried, running her fingers through Wallflower's hair. The only sound in the apartment was that of Wallflower's almost breathless sobs.
Once they started to die down, Sunset said, "You don't have to prove anything, Wally. Not to me. Not to her. Not to anyone."
Wallflower squeezed her hand. Sunset smiled, and held her a little closer.
By the time Sunset had run out of things to stare at on her phone, she was the only one still sitting in the waiting room. She briefly perused the old magazines the office had scattered around, but found little of interest in their curling pages. After organizing them into a neat stack on the center coffee table, she returned to her seat, then glanced at the clock on the wall.
With a frown, she noted that the appointment had run almost half an hour past its allotted time. Taking a slow breath, she willed herself to try and be patient. Maybe that was a good sign? She hoped as much. Bringing Wallflower here had been the final step Sunset could take; the rest was up to her.
Just as Sunset returned to scrolling through her friends' group chat, the door opened.
Though she was teary-eyed, Wallflower visibly lit up as soon as Sunset looked her way.
Behind Wallflower, the counselor offered both of them a small smile before handing her client a little white card. "Same time next week, Wallflower?"
"Mhm." Wallflower nodded, then wiped at her eyes.
"Alright. Take care, and see you soon." With one last smile towards Sunset, the counselor returned to her office, closing the door behind her.
"Hey." Sunset walked over to Wallflower. "How was it?"
Instead of answering, Wallflower leaned into Sunset, who enveloped her in a hug. The two stayed like that for a while, Sunset holding Wallflower close, feeling her breath against her neck gradually slow to normal.
Then, low enough so only Sunset could hear, Wallflower replied, "Really fucking good."
Hugging her a little tighter, Sunset couldn't help but grin.
Although they broke the hug, Wallflower didn't pull away, reaching for Sunset's hand. They walked out of the CSU counseling office together into the crisp evening air. Neither spoke much as they made their way to the car, enjoying the tranquil silence as the sun began to fade.
Once they were buckled in, Sunset decided to check her phone before starting the car. "Oh!" She glanced up at Wallflower. "Our friends were wondering if you'd be down for going to the arcade again next weekend." With a smirk, she added, "Rainbow Dash says she wants a skee-ball rematch."
Wallflower cracked a brief smile. "I knew she let me win."
"So… should I tell them yes?" Sunset asked, hopeful.
After a moment, Wallflower nodded. "Yeah, okay," she said. "I guess they really aren't mad at me about last time, huh?"
"Of course not, Wally."
Wallflower sighed. Her gaze turned out the window as Sunset started the engine. "You've got some really great friends, Sunset."
Sunset nudged her. "We've got some really great friends."
"...Yeah." Wallflower smiled softly. "Yeah, we do."