//------------------------------//
// 7 – The Past, Present, and the Future, Too 
// Story: Can You See What I See? 
// by Avery Day 
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There are a few reasons I chose to drive a motorcycle over a car. In a weird way, it reminds me of what it was like to be a pony. Human bodies with their flexible limbs and opposable thumbs are nice and all, but running with two legs is so much slower compared to what I grew up with, and cars feel so claustrophobic.

Sure, I could never run this fast when I was a pony, but it at least provided a somewhat similar experience. I could be out in the open, experiencing the thrill of the wind rushing through my hair. While it was undoubtedly more dangerous than a traditional car, being in a car felt so boring and restrictive. Why would anyone choose such a dull mode of transportation when something so satisfying exists?

Today, however, I was taking it slow, for a couple reasons. First off, I was taking Twilight back to her house, and she is not a big fan of the motorbike at all, keeping her arms wrapped tightly around my waist. And while I was trying to keep a cap on my pace primarily for her comfort, the second reason I was going slow is just as important: I just really don’t want her to stop holding onto me. She may crush my diaphragm from point A to point B, but I can never get enough of feeling her embrace.

It doesn’t really matter what speed I’m going either. It always seems like she’s trying to squeeze the life out of me. It’s like I get to take her to a horror movie every time we go anywhere, and she spends the whole movie cowering into me and squeezing my hand. She relies on me to keep her safe, and in exchange I get to feel her hug me for the entire duration of the trip.

Unfortunately, just as a movie has to reach the end of its falling action, a ride has an eventual destination. And even though I’d done what I could to make our ride last as long as possible, we finally reached the end. As we pulled into the driveway of Twilight’s house, I felt her hands unlatch from around my waist. While my diaphragm was happy to fill my lungs with air uninhibited, the rest of me felt a little emptier as a result.

I threw down the kickstand with my foot as Twilight stepped off the backseat of the motorcycle. She took her helmet off, her purple hair flowing down the shoulders of her sweater. I noticed how much her hair had flattened under the helmet as she placed it in one of the back saddlebags. It was so cute. Everything about her was so cute. No, I will never stop mentioning how cute she is.

“Thanks again for the lesson, Sunset,” she said with a smile.

“As always, not a problem,” I responded as I took my own helmet off, “Is it still okay if I come in and snap a pic of your trigonometry notes, by the way?”

Her eyes perked up. “Oh yeah! Just follow me to my room.”

I left my helmet on the seat of my motorcycle as I followed Twilight up the steps to her house. As we walked up to her porch, I was reminded of how well off Twilight was. Both her parents made a lot of money, and as such she lived in a house that bordered on the size of a mansion. It was always surreal to be reminded of this fact. A lot of the rich kids at CHS wouldn’t let you forget they were rich. If it weren’t for the fact that Twilight was a Crystal Prep transfer, no one would be able to tell how affluent her family was, given her modesty.

I followed her close behind as we made our way through the foyer to the hall and upstairs to her room. The further we got down the hall, the faster she started to walk. At first, I thought I was just going slow, but eventually she turned the corner into her room while I was still only halfway down the hall. She seemed like she was in a hurry for some reason, but I paid it no mind.

I kept my pace and eventually made my way to her room. As I turned the corner of the doorway, I saw her flipping through the pages of a binder. It sat in the center of her desk next to a stack of other ones. Each one of them was a different color, and each with their respective subjects written neatly on the front in permanent marker.

My eyes wandered around her room. It was a rare occasion I got to see it, so every time I was here I found myself looking all around. It was so neat and tidy. Everything had its place, and everything was always in said place. It made me a little self-conscious about the state of my own living space. I don’t think it had ever looked this well put together even after I’d just moved in.

As my eyes continued to explore, I noticed something that caught my attention. The top of her dresser was almost as big as her desk, and in front of it was a big vanity mirror. On top of the dresser was a stack of what almost looked like cards. They were face down, and while most of them looked to be about the same size, some of the ones on top looked smaller than the rest. Were those photos?

It might seem like an insignificant thing to give much thought, but Twilight’s room was so strictly organized. All except for this tiny stack of papers. They stuck out like a sore thumb. If they were flashcards, they’d be in a little drawer labeled with their respective subject. For some strange reason, I desperately wanted to know what they were, but I didn’t want to be intrusive. I was only going to be here for a few more minutes.

Before I could give it any more thought, Twilight finally spoke up again.

“Here we are! These three pages should be everything you missed a few days ago. While you get a picture of each of them, I’m going to go check on Spike and run to the restroom.”

“Sounds good!” I responded, “I’ll probably clear out of here after I get the pictures, so if I disappear that’s why.”

Twilight smiled at me. “Alright. Thanks again, by the way.”

“You don’t have to keep thanking me, you know,” I replied, “But as always, you’re welcome.”

I smiled back at her. Then she walked up to me and briefly hugged me. She had started doing that a bit more after that conversation in the parking lot a few weeks ago. It still caught me off guard sometimes, but I certainly wasn’t complaining. After she pulled away, she hurriedly exited her room.

“The notes are on the front and back!” she yelled as she swiftly made her way down the hall.

And here I was. Alone in her room for the very first time. As I pulled out my phone and started snapping pictures of her notes, I started to think about that stack on her dresser again. I knew it probably wasn’t right for me to look at them, but I couldn’t help but wonder if they really were photos. If they were, why were they sitting stacked up in front of a mirror face down?

As I took the last picture of her notes, my curiosity continued to build. Twilight hadn’t come back yet, and since the door to her room was still open I would hear her footsteps before she came back. Would it really hurt to take a peek? If they were something that private, Twilight would have hidden them. She wasn’t the kind of person to leave something sensitive sitting out in the open, right?

Right?

I pulled the rings of her binder open, placing her notes back in gently before shutting the rings and closing the binder back up. Then I took a few steps over toward the dresser. They were photos. With that revelation, I could resist my curiosity no longer.

With the stack in my hand, I flipped them all over to the other side. From a cursory glance at the side, I counted maybe ten or twelve photos in total. And from the first picture, I gathered these weren’t really anything worth hiding.

The first one was from her first sleepover with us. I could tell because it was in Pinkie’s room, and she was sitting in the back looking like an adorable ball of anxiety. The next was from the one we had at Rarity’s a few months later. Then a couple photos from Camp Everfree. Nothing too out of the ordinary.

That begged the question: why were these photos just sitting out like this? Face down, unframed, on the corner of her dresser in a messy stack unlike anything else in the room? It was so insignificant, but something that small in a room so meticulously organized was impossible for me to ignore. It just seemed so out of character. I would think these would be framed, or at least in some kind of photo album.

Then I looked at the mirror. It was attached to the dresser with a wooden backing, and had a wooden frame bordering all sides of it except for the bottom. I had an idea. I took the picture at the front of the stack and tried to wedge it between the mirror and the frame that surrounded it. The photo fit snugly into the gap, and when I let go, it stayed in place. I grabbed the photo again and placed it in the back of the stack.

I gazed out her bedroom window at the clouds covering the receding sun as I began to think. Maybe that’s why they were all out and loose like this? Perhaps Twilight hadn’t had time to set them up yet and had just left them there for a little while? That still didn’t seem like something she’d do. If she didn’t have time to put them up, she’d have found a place to put them in the meantime.

Then I remembered when we got here. We walked through her house at the same pace, for the most part. But the second we got to the top of the stairs, she began to power-walk ahead of me. I shrugged it off, thinking it was nothing. What if she blazed ahead of me to take these down from their spot on the mirror? It would explain how out of place they were, but they were just pictures of us and our friends. Why would she take them down before I could see them?

Then I looked back down at the next photo in the stack. It was a picture of just me and her. As my eyes scanned the picture I remembered the day this picture was taken.

We spent an entire evening at the mall food court. There wasn’t any special event that day, either. All I remembered about that day was that she showed up after my shift ended, and we sat in the food court and talked until the mall closed. At the end, she insisted on taking a photo together even though I was still in my goofy looking work uniform. Of course, I could never say no to her, so I obliged.

Then I flipped to the next picture. Once again, it was just me and her. We were at one of Pinkie’s parties. I couldn’t remember the reason for the party, but I did remember that Twilight followed me around like a shadow that night. That wasn’t necessarily out of the ordinary for her, but this was one of the first times I could remember her doing this at a social gathering.

As I kept flipping through the remaining photos, I slowly came to realize that every single one beyond the first several were just pictures of us. A picture of us from her birthday a few months ago. The photo we took when I gave her her first guitar lesson. The picture I took after I gave her a ride on my motorcycle for the first time and she looked all frazzled.

In total there were fourteen photos, and ten of them were pictures of us together. Assuming my mental math wasn’t compromised by how flummoxed I felt, that meant 71% of these photos were just me and her. We might be best friends, but I would have expected only a few to be just us – not the majority of them!

My face flushed, and as it did my mind began to race. Why would she have so many pictures of us specifically? Was she really that attached to me as her best friend? Or did it mean something more? Was I jumping to conclusions? Or was this conclusive evidence that she had feelings for me too?

“Oh, you’re still here?” I heard from behind.

Shit.

I quickly placed the photos back down in as close to the same spot they were in when I picked them up. Then I leaned forward in the mirror and pretended to look closely at my face.

“Y-Yeah! Sorry! I was, uhh, looking at my face. I thought I saw a zit forming but I think I’m clear!” I stammered.

When I turned toward Twilight, I noticed she looked a little nervous, her eyebrow raised. A few seconds went by with no response. Then she let out a giggle. It sounded a little forced.

“Your face looks fine, I promise,” she reassured me.

If it wouldn’t have raised suspicion, I’d have let out the biggest sigh of relief. Instead, I started heading toward the door.

“Thanks again for the notes, Twilight. I’ll see you in class tomorrow!” I said as I tried to make a quick escape.

“Hold it!” she called.

Shit.

"One more thing."

I turned around to face her, but instead of saying anything, she just hugged me again. I wanted to melt, not just because I got to hug her again, but from the extra helping of relief I felt.

“See you then,” she said.

After a few seconds, she pulled away. I waved and began to make my exit again. I left her alone in her room as I made my way through her hall to the steps. My legs felt like jello as I walked down the stairs and navigated out her front door. My heart was palpitating as I walked to the driveway.

I picked my helmet up off the seat of my motorcycle, taking its spot and turning the ignition. Once it started, I used my boot to kick the stand back up, walking my bike back out of her driveway. Once I was oriented the right way, I revved the engine and began my journey back to my apartment.

As I finally made my way out of the messy web of urban sprawl that was Twilight’s wealthy neighborhood, I began to speed up. I was grateful for the speed limit increase as I turned onto the highway. That meant I could make the engine of my motorcycle scream as I made my way back home.

“Shit! Shit!! Shit shit shit!!” I exclaimed.

Normally, I didn’t like how noisy my bike could be, but right now it was helpful having something so loud to drown out my own clamorous voice. I was also immensely grateful for my helmet, which obscured my face as I continued to shout obscenities into the void. If it weren’t for those two things, I would look insane to anyone I passed right now. There were far too many questions and feelings bubbling over in me, and I needed to externalize them.

Riding a motorcycle on the highway required quite a bit more mental overhead than anywhere else. Everywhere you turn, there’s a careless driver that thinks that because their several-ton metal death trap is bigger and heavier than yours, they should own the road. Normally, this isn’t an issue for me, but with my mind racing faster than my bike could ever hope to, I had to focus on the road twice as hard.

A few miles and many unheard swear words later, I finally pulled into my apartment complex’s parking lot. As I put up the kickstand and hopped off the bike, all I could think about is how badly I needed to tell Rarity. I locked my helmet inside one of the saddlebags and jogged my way up the stairs to my apartment, fishing my keys from my jacket pocket as I did.

When I slid the key into my door’s lock, I realized it wasn’t actually locked. That felt really strange considering I always made sure to lock the door on the way out. Before leaving, I would even try to open the door after locking it just to be absolutely sure. Maybe I was just distracted because I was with Twilight.

At least, that’s what I thought before I walked through the door. The air smelled vaguely different from the “home” smell I was so used to. The scent was fragrant, almost flowery. That’s when I spotted the coat on the hook next to the door, and the purse on the ground below it. So that's why the door was unlocked.

“You know, just because you know where the spare key is doesn’t mean you live here,” I playfully scolded, "I'm gonna start charging rent if you keep barging in here!"

“As if I would ever!” I heard from inside the kitchen, “If I did, these dishes wouldn’t have been sitting in the sink for as long as they have!”

Rarity and I had planned to hang out after Twilight’s guitar lesson today. The way this arrangement was supposed to work was that I’d message her after I got back, but I guess she must have grown impatient and decided to come over anyway.

As I walked into the kitchen, I felt bad for giving her an attitude even though I was teasing. I could see she’d just finished washing all the dishes I’d let pile up.

“You didn’t have to do that, but I appreciate it,” I remarked.

Rarity smiled as she dried her hands with a towel. “That’s just what a good friend does.”

“I hope that doesn’t mean you’ll be expecting me to do your dishes anytime soon,” I chuckled before pushing myself up to sit on the counter.

“Lucky for you, darling, I have a dishwasher,” she playfully responded, “Now–”

“Hold on,” I interrupted. She glared at me, and I gave her a sheepish grin back. “It’s relevant, I promise.”

Rarity leaned back against the counter and motioned for me to continue.

“So when I dropped Twilight off, I went into her house to get a picture of her trigonometry notes from the day I missed last week. Before we got to her room, she bolted in front of me to get there before I did. At first, I didn’t really think much of it, but I noticed something out of place when I got there.”

Rarity continued her silence, but her interest looked piqued as I continued.

“You know how Twilight organizes everything in the most obsessively meticulous way? Well, there were these photos sitting in a stack face down on her dresser. I didn’t know they were photos when I first saw them, but they looked out of place regardless.”

Rarity nodded, looking a tad confused, but remained silent nonetheless.

“At one point, she left me alone in her room to go do a couple things while I copied her notes. When I finished taking the pictures of her notes, I picked up the stack of photos.”

“Ohh, I’m surprised you’d take such a risk,” she joked. I glared at her, to which she replied with a smug grin. I rolled my eyes and continued.

“The first few photos were pictures of all of us together. Sleepovers, summer camp – that kind of stuff. But then I got to the rest of the photos, and do you want to know what every single one of them was?” I asked.

“They were all pictures of you and her specifically, and the reason she ran in front of you before you could make it to her room was so she could pull the pictures out of the mirror’s frame so you wouldn’t see just how many pictures of the two of you she had,” Rarity answered.

I stood there with my mouth agape for a moment, then I furrowed my brow. “Okay, congrats. You win. Way to ruin my story,” I griped.

She giggled, “I’m sorry, dear. It’s just the moment you said ‘stack of photos’ I could immediately tell where that was going.”

I sighed in defeat, electing to move on. “So anyway, I think she might really like me! But I’m also afraid I’m overthinking it and seeing things that aren’t there.”

“Of course you are,” she replied with yet another smug grin.

I gave her a dirty look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She laughed for a few seconds before explaining. “Sunset, she could have doctored photos so it looked like you two were getting married and you’d have said the exact same thing! How many times must I tell you she’s absolutely enamored with you before it gets through those thick, fiery locks of yours?”

I felt a little embarrassed, but Rarity was right. At least, I was more sure she was right than I had ever been up to this point. Why else would she keep so many mundane photos of just us together? It seemed silly in retrospect to think I was “just seeing things”, but I couldn’t help being abundantly cautious. My personal history had given me enough reasons to be apprehensive about things going my way.

“I must ask: why do you doubt so much that she likes you?” asked Rarity “If I tried to write you a list of every single thing she’s done to show you she’s in love with you, the pen would run out of ink!”

I rested my elbow on my knee so that I could place my chin in my hand. That was a question I knew the answer to, but it was hard to put it into words. After a bit of contemplation, I came up with something.

“I guess I’m just used to most things not working out in my favor.” That was the most simple way I could put it.

“What do you mean?” Rarity pressed.

I sighed as I began to elaborate further. “I’ve just had a lot of experiences where everything looks like it’s going to work out, only for it to blow up in my face. So I set my expectations really low. It makes it not sting so bad when things don’t pan out.”

Rarity’s eyes wandered around the room for a few seconds. After she paused, she responded with another question.

“Does it really?”

“Yeah,” I shrugged, “I’m pretty sure it does.”

She shook her head at my answer. “I think there’s more to it than that.”

I gave her a confused look. “How do you know?”

“Have we not established how good I am at reading you, Sunset?” she answered.

“We have, sure,” I surrendered, “But I can’t help but feel like you might be looking a little too deep into this.”

Once again, she shook her head. Then she gave me a comforting smile.

“I may not know how things have blown up in your face, as you say, but I do know the kind of person you used to be. And I put heavy emphasis on ‘used to be’, darling.”

I knew she was trying to soften the blow with that last part, but I still felt somewhat dejected at that comment. I looked away, but she continued her explanation.

“I imagine that before you changed, you would use any means necessary to get what you want. If it meant being mean, you’d be vicious. If it meant being dishonest, you’d be as deceitful as could be. If it meant you had to be violent, you’d chuck a brick at their–”

“Okay! I get it!” I snapped. When people talk about my past I try not to get upset. I know that it’s just a consequence of my own actions, but I have a limit, and Rarity was beginning to push it.

She recoiled, but gave me a sympathetic look. “I don’t mean to belabor the point, darling. What I’m trying to convey is that when you want something, the methods which you employ to acquire it are often the most important factor to your success.”

She paused. I looked her in the eyes again as she continued to elaborate.

“If you were who you used to be, you may have reason to worry. If you were up to your old tricks, manipulating people in a bid to get what you want, you’d have reason to prepare for the worst possible outcome.”

Then she paused. I felt frozen in place as she kept reading me.

“But you’ve changed, Sunset. And while you’re aware of that, you haven’t fully internalized it. When you look in the mirror, you see a split image of yourself blurred together. You see the Sunset you are, and the Sunset you used to be. And the former is constantly looking over her shoulder, afraid of experiencing the consequences the latter would often bring upon her.”

I tried to look away again, but she raised her hand and delicately pushed my face back towards her own. Our eyes met once more.

“But you can’t see what I see.”

Rarity took another brief pause as she gave me another comforting smile.

“I see a completely different person from the one I met some years ago. I see a girl who’s far too compassionate and caring for her own good. Someone whose sympathy and concern for others far surpasses what she gives to herself, and what she allows from others as well,” she asserted.

“I don’t allow it because I don’t need it,” I argued.

“Is that why? Or do you only say that because you feel it’s a suitable punishment for yourself? Is it because you feel it’s what you deserve for the person you used to be?” she contended.

“I–” I stammered, but I could form no words beyond that.

“You’ve allowed me to help you despite not believing you ever needed it in the first place. You’ve let Twilight support you when you feel at your lowest, even though you were upset at yourself. That's because it's what you deserve, and you should allow yourself to feel hope. You don’t have to navigate life constantly expecting the worst because of how things used to be. That’s no way to live. You deserve to feel hope.”

I really didn’t know what to say. Or even what to think. I just kept staring at her.

“You’re doing everything right, Sunset,” she assured, “And if for whatever reason we come to find Twilight doesn’t share your feelings, the results won’t be catastrophic. You won’t react with anger or malice like you used to feel the need to. There’s no need to doubt her or yourself. You’ll pick yourself up and move on. And the two of you will still be the best of friends.”

That brought to mind something I’d honestly not thought much about until that point. The act of asking her out was my primary focus for so long because the thought of it made me so nervous. It began to dawn on me how little I’d thought about the consequences of asking her out. What would happen to our relationship? What would happen to both of us?

How would I react if after all this she said no? What if it pushed me back into my old ways? What if I retaliated by being cold and uncaring once I realized my love wasn’t mutual? If I answered any of that, how could I truly trust my answer?

How would she react? What if she pushed me away because she didn’t feel the same? What if she enforced stricter boundaries between us because the way I felt about her made her uncomfortable? What if we drifted apart as a result of all that?

But the longer I dwelled on those thoughts, the more unreasonable I felt they were.

Twilight meant everything to me, and while I had no idea how she felt about me romantically, I knew she loved me in her own way. Her and I shared a bond that was unlike any other, and she’d expressed the same sentiment to me before. Both of us started as outcasts, and while the reasons for that were different, we both knew what it was like to be alone for so long. We both know what it was like to always hope for the best and prepare for the worst.

Twilight loved me. She said it herself. No matter what happened, we’d still be in each other’s lives at the end of it all. And the fear of rejection was no match for the comfort I could take in that. Besides, how could a rejection from someone who has that many photos of just the two of us go poorly?

“You’re right, Rarity,” I muttered, “Thank you.”

“Of course I’m right,” she prodded with a smirk, “I’ve never been wrong before!”

I looked at her incredulously, and she just laughed in response.

“Now, the Fall Formal is in exactly one week,” she began, “So it’s finally time for us to discuss our plan.”

“One week?!” I cried out. Was there really only one week left?!

“Yes, one week! And you’ll be happy to know the plan is relatively simple.”

I winced. When Rarity says “relatively simple”, it often has a different meaning than what it means coming from anyone else. Still, I nodded my head. Her advice hadn’t failed me yet.

“This Wednesday after school, you’re going to ask her if you two can study together on Thursday. You’ll feel naturally inclined to suggest you do it after school at your place, but it is imperative you insist it be at her house.”

“Why?” I asked.

“So she feels comfortable. Your chances will be far greater if she’s in an environment where she feels in control. If you take her to your apartment and ask her, she may feel trapped. I don’t doubt she’ll say yes, but you don’t want the question ‘if I say no, will I be given a ride home?’ to run through her head regardless,” Rarity answered.

“I think you might be overthinking this,” I remarked.

“I know I didn’t just hear that from you of all people,” she snapped. I gave a sheepish grin back.

“Twilight will be so absorbed in her studies that she won’t notice you’re spending most of your time thinking about how to pop the question. That said, try not to overthink how you ask her. Once you see things wrapping up, that’s when you ask.” she concluded. That “overthink” was dripping with mockery.

“Wow, that actually is relatively simple,” I fired back.

Rarity smirked and rolled her eyes. “The last, and in my opinion most important part, is that you text me with her answer the very moment you’re in the clear.”

I raised my eyebrow. “Why is that the “most important” part?” I said with air quotes.

“The first is because I’ll be eagerly and anxiously awaiting the results the entire night and it’s important that I know everything. The second is because, if she says yes, I’ll probably be up all night designing your outfits. So the sooner I know the outcome, the less crabby I’ll be on the big day,” she answered. “Are we clear?” 

“Crystal,” I responded.

For the first time in a while, I felt at ease. I felt good about my chances with Twilight. This was going to work out. This was finally going to happen. And without Rarity, there’s no way I’d have ever felt this confident.

“Excellent!” she exclaimed, “Unfortunately, I don’t have time to stick around today, so I must take my leave. If I don’t see you before then, good luck on Thursday.”

I watched as she walked toward the door, putting her coat on and slinging her purse around her arm. She took a pair of sunglasses out of her coat pocket and slipped them over her eyes. As she reached for the door, I stopped her.

“Hold it!” I shouted. She looked over at me, a hint of confusion on her face. “One more thing.”

With that, I walked over to her and hugged her tight. For a few moments, it seemed like Rarity didn’t know how to react. But after another moment, she hugged me back just as tight. At first, she felt very tense, but she quickly relaxed in my embrace. We held each other for a few seconds. It seemed like neither of us wanted to pull away.

Eventually, I moved things forward.

“Thank you, Rarity,” I said with a smile, “For everything.”

She smiled back at me. Without another word, she turned toward the door and took her leave.

As the door shut behind her, I walked over to the couch and fell face first into the cushions and let out a long sigh. This was it. We were coming down to the wire. Months of preparation and planning were all about to come together. I would soon have my answer to the question that had plagued me for so many moons. I was many things – happy, relieved, anxious. But above all, I was ready.

I hoped.