//------------------------------//
// Maybe We Should Sit Down 
// Story: Late-Night Conversations 
// by EileenSaysHi 
//------------------------------//

"No…"

"Somepony… help me…"

"Twilight, don't forget me—"

Sunset's body lurched upward and jolted her into reality, a massive gasp bursting from her as her eyes flung open. She realized she was hyperventilating and she slammed a hand on her mouth, twisting around to shove her face into her pillow and quiet herself while she stabilized her breathing. A few droplets slipped from her tear ducts and she wiped them on the pillowcase. Her heart rate descended, and she let her body relax as the aftershock of the nightmare faded away.

She rolled her head to the side to look at the clock. It was 3:23 in the morning. She groaned. After a moment, she remembered Twilight was just a foot from her, in her sleeping bag by the side of the bed. She hadn't made any noise, but Sunset had to check. She quickly crawled to the side and peered down.

Nothing to fret over. Twilight let out a faint moan, rearranged herself slightly and began to softly snore.

Wish I was that cute while asleep, Sunset thought as she rolled back over in the bed Twilight had lent her for their impromptu sleepover. Applejack, Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash hadn't minced words at the Starswirled Festival in telling Sunset she made some rather abrasive noises in her sleep, even in the best of circumstances. She was prone to talking, too, or so she'd heard. Even Rarity once—Rarity! Had she heard? Twilight's home wasn't exactly the most soundproofed location, especially with none of the bedroom doors closed. Should she check? Or would that risk waking her up? Or waking Twilight up? Or—

Sunset's heart sank when she heard a tiny rap on the door and an even tinier voice register. "Sunset? Twilight?"

I guess I didn't really have much chance of falling back asleep anyway.

Sunset quietly scooted over to the other side of the bed and climbed out, then tiptoed to the cracked-open door and nudged it wide enough to slip through. She motioned for Rarity to move back so she could step out and gently pull it shut.

"Sunset, is Twilight still—"

Sunset pointed toward the back door. Rarity nodded, and the two of them crept to the rear of the house, unlocked and stepped through the sliding glass, then closed it behind them. Though it was the middle of the night, it was warmer outside than in the air-conditioned house they'd just left. They sat down on the porch steps.

"Hey, I'm sorry about this. If you think the heat might mess with your hair or..."

Rarity cut her off with a glare. "Sunset, please." She meant business.

There was no sense beating around the bush.

"I, uh, well, um…" Sunset knew she had to answer, but the words were strangled. After a moment of fumbling and stammering, she finally forced up the words I had a nightmare and spat them out like a hairball.

"I figured as much."

"It, uh, must have been pretty loud."

"I'm afraid I was already awake. I was passing by your room after using the facilities"—Sunset smirked at the word choice—"when—oh, do stop it—when I heard your voice coming from inside. I hesitated to peek, but, once I realized you hadn't started snoring again, I felt compelled to check."

"That's very generous of you."

Rarity grimaced at Sunset's use of the word generous. "Sunset… I don't need some magically ordained mystical trait from another world to feel the desire to help a friend. To help you."

"Sorry, I didn't mean—"

"Because I must admit, when I realized what you were saying—what your nightmare was about—it was chilling. It scared me. Because I remember that day too, Sunset."

Sunset cringed. So I was speaking, then.

"I'll never forget it," Rarity continued. "No matter what kind of magic anyone can throw at my brain and scramble my head with, I'll always have some remnant of that image of you, helpless in the parking lot, seared onto my conscience. The day where I questioned what right I've ever had to call myself generous." She swallowed audibly. "The day that I truly failed you, Sunset Shimmer."

"No, oh no, please, Rarity, please don't ever say that—"

Rarity held up an accosting finger. "I'm not here to subject you to yet another apology that you don't want to hear. I'm not sure what I could ever say about those three days when you won't acknowledge a word against us or our behavior. We’ve all tried, and you won't have it." She sighed. "But what I can say is that I'm here now. And I'm listening. I want to know what's going on with you and how I can help. It means everything to me."

At the last sentence, she finally smiled, and Sunset's heart swelled so fast at the sight that it squeezed a few more tears out of her. But Sunset didn’t break down—she just smiled an earnest smile right back.

"So," Rarity started, her expression reverting to a neutral one. "I suppose the first question should be 'How long has this been going on?'."

Sunset's smile faded, and she swallowed. "Since that day. But it's not… it's not every day. For a little while it was, but, even by the time of the Equestrialand incident, they started to become fairly irregular. It felt… managed. And after I regained some confidence at Starswirled, I could go weeks without having any problems."

"But…"

"But then we went through a year where almost nothing happened. Where our biggest adventures were a supersized snowball fight and a malfunctioning robot. A year where I had little to distract me besides schoolwork, and where everyone around me started planning for the future. And all those nagging thoughts and doubts just crept back in."

"You're not prepared for all… this to be over."

Sunset shook her head and looked down at the ground. "And then yearbook committee started really kicking into gear and… I didn't think she'd come back. I really, really didn't. But she did. And then she transferred into third period government with me second semester and, uh… it sucks."

Sunset sniffled, and Rarity quickly placed a hand on her back, though she seemed to need a moment before finally speaking. "Wallflower?" A nod was her reply. "But..."

"But we're supposed to be friends now, I know."

"But you're not?"

Sunset shook her head. "When was the last time any of us really did anything with her? We signed each other’s yearbooks, we gave her advice for a few weeks and then we drifted away from her."

"Because she'd made such progress with finding friends of her own, though! Muffins! Roseluck!"

"Exactly. Nice, new baggage-free friends whose lives she'd never tried to destroy. And I was perfectly fine with that, because…" She stifled a sob.

Now Rarity stood up, grabbed Sunset's arm and gently pulled her up. She wrapped both arms around her and squeezed lightly. "Take your time, darling."

Sunset didn't reciprocate the hug. Rarity withdrew and looked directly at her face. She didn't seem to like what she saw, and Sunset's eyes drew downward to avoid her stare. After hesitating for as long as she could get away with, Sunset choked out the words.

"Because I don't want to be around her. Because I can't find it in myself to forgive her, not truly, no matter how much I know I should." She swallowed as she steeled herself for the admission. "Because I hate her."

She slowly lifted her eyes, expecting to see Rarity recoil in disgust and horror. But that wasn't what happened.

Rarity was still right there, not shrinking, not backing off. Still listening. Still offering comfort. And no matter how much she might feel unworthy of the word, the generosity was still written on her face, plain as day; Sunset could practically feel it emanating off of her.

Sunset finally unleashed the waterworks for real. She threw her arms around Rarity and buried her face into her shoulder as she released a flood of emotion, which Rarity accepted graciously regardless of what all the moisture would do to her nightwear. After a minute like this, Sunset calmed down and slowly pulled back.

Rarity gave a warm smile. "Maybe we should sit down."