While I may have rejected Fluttershy's invitation to band practice, our encounter earlier that afternoon left me with a lingering feeling. Nothing substantial enough to change my mind, but I didn’t feel like sulking at home after school like usual, so that was something.
Instead, I found myself struck by an impulse, and rather than thinking it over like a smart person, I went for it. That sounds like a bad idea, I know. My impetuosity was something I’d been fighting for control over since the Fall Formal, but this time, I let it get the better of me for a good reason.
Impulse control, as helpful as it was, was also paralyzing. It had saved me from quite a few headaches, but there were an equal amount of times I could remember when I talked myself out of something I knew I should do. Things I’d convinced myself not to do under the guise of “good reasoning,” but deep down, I knew it was just because I really didn’t want to.
Tonight, I was going to cross one of those things off my list, and I wasn’t going to give myself a chance to back out.
Digging my hand into my pocket, I grabbed my phone and pulled up my texts. The last one I sent was right when I was leaving school, and it was sent to none other than my ex-boyfriend. My eyes scanned the words of my message again.
>hey flash. i know it’s been a bit since we talked for obv. reasons, but i wanna make things right. meet me at our old spot a couple of hours after school's out? we can talk things out if u want, if not that’s fine too. thanks.
I must have read those words fifty times by then. Each time, I hoped I'd see a response. But it never came.
It’s not like I could blame him for not wanting to see me. If I were him, I wouldn't come near me either. And maybe I should have waited for a response before I left my apartment—he could have blocked my number for all I knew—but it was too late.
An hour had already rolled by, and still nothing. I sighed and pushed my phone back into my pocket. Even though he hadn't responded, I made the trip out to our spot on the slim chance he'd show up. The longer I waited, the more I wished I hadn’t bothered. But there I was, sitting on a hill in a big empty field next to a highway, watching the cars fly by in the near-freezing cold, waiting for an answer from someone who may not have even heard the question. Alone. Like usual.
For what it's worth, it wasn't all that bad. The biting cold notwithstanding, I was in my favorite spot to be alone. Not long after moving into my apartment, I went on a walk through a neighborhood close by. On the very edge of that neighborhood was a sidewalk that continues beyond the residential boundaries, and that sidewalk ends at a field. It was in a weird spot, it served no discernable purpose, and it was so out of the way that no one ever thought to go there. It was perfect.
Sometimes, when me and Flash were still a thing, I would invite him to come out here with me and sit. Most of the time, we didn’t even talk; instead we’d just sit and watch the cars in silence. Those moments are some of the few fond memories I have of this world. In general, really. It felt nice to have someone to spend time with me like that. I’d been leading him on the whole time, and yet, after we stopped talking, it dawned on me how much I’d genuinely appreciated his company.
As time dragged on, I thought more about Flash and what I’d done to him, and the more this whole thing felt like a stupid idea. I knew I was trying to do the right thing, but if he wasn’t going to let me, what was the point? And besides, if he was going to bother coming all the way out here, he would have responded. He probably wasn't going to respond and with good reason. I wasted his time and broke his heart in the end. Why would he want to see me ever again?
And if he did come, who’s to say it’d be a friendly visit? Even if I wanted this to be amicable, I’d given him the perfect opportunity to tell me how he really feels about me and what I did to him. There would be no one to hear all the horrible things he could rightfully say to me.Granted, he didn’t seem like the type to do that, but all things considered, I wouldn't blame him if he did.
Either way, I would have rather received a text that said “piss off” than sit there in the cold, nervously anticipating a confrontation that might never end up happening. At least then I could be in my warm apartment while I was miserable and alone.
With a long exhale, I fell backward onto the ground and looked up at the sky. Immediately, I regretted that decision. Not only would there be dead grass in my hair when I got up, but the cold from the ground crept into my leather jacket, sending chills down my spine.
Instead of getting back up, I just closed my eyes—a dangerous move, considering how tired I was, but it was hard for me to care. Besides, everyone at CHS would probably get a kick out of hearing Sunset Shimmer—former queen she-demon, now washed-up extradimensional loser—met her untimely demise when she decided to take a nap outside. A depressing thought, but funny in an absurd kind of way.
Not long into playing dead, I heard footsteps approaching in the distance. On very rare occasions, someone would walk to the end of the sidewalk, only to turn around once they realized there was nowhere else to go. But that usually only ever happened when it was warmer, not in the middle of February. The week had been unusually warm and dry, but it was still too cold to imagine anyone would want to walk all the way out here.
Maybe it was Flash? If it was, he would say something. If it wasn’t, whoever it was would walk away. Either way, I wasn't going to bother opening my eyes. As cold as the lumpy ground was, I was as comfortable as I could be. That, and I didn't want to face him on the off chance it was Flash.
The footsteps got closer before they eventually halted. Then nothing. I still refused to open my eyes, but whoever approached me wasn't budging either. Maybe they thought I was dead. I thought about opening my eyes and screaming just to scare the shit out of them. That might have been kind of funny. Or embarrassing. Maybe both.
Before I could speculate any longer, the silence was broken. “You alive down there?”
It was the unmistakable voice of Flash Sentry.
Instead of opening my eyes, I shook my head. “No. Bury me.”
“If you’re dead, then how did you answer me?”
“I got a little better,” I answered. “Still dead, though.”
“Woah!” he jokingly exclaimed, “A talking corpse!”
When I finally opened my eyes, I saw Flash smirking down at me. It was a familiar grin—every bit as dopey and infectious as I remembered. I’d last seen it only a handful of months ago, but it felt so much longer than that. And even though I tried not to, I smiled back at him.
Flash took his spot next to me as I sat up and brushed the dead grass out of my hair.
“Haven’t been out here in a hot minute,” he remarked, "I kinda missed this spot. Though I think I liked it more when it was warmer."
I tried to think of a response, but just sat there quietly for a while instead. We both did. It occurred to me that I never thought this far ahead. Hundreds of scenarios ran through my head while I was waiting for him, and of all the possible outcomes, the only ones I ever planned for were a no-call no-show, or a strongly worded text that amounted to “eat shit.”
Flash was always too nice for his own good—that was mostly why I picked him to be my boyfriend. He was as kind as he was naïve, but after all we’d been through, I figured he would have thought better than to extend his natural affability to me ever again. But it seemed as though his attitude was hardly any different than it was before we broke up.
Even still, I remained just as anxious. This was just the beginning, and just because our encounter started on a good note, there was nothing saying it would stay positive. That made starting this conversation much harder. The sleep deprivation certainly made it challenging, too; but even if I was well-rested, my mind would still be overflowing with what I thought were the wrong words. After drowning in my thoughts long enough, I finally settled on something.
"Why didn't you answer my text?"
Flash's face twisted from a smile to confusion. "…I thought I did?"
He looked down, fishing his phone out of his pocket. After a few thumb presses on the screen, his eyes went wide. He grimaced as he slapped his forehead and ran his fingers through his blue hair.
"I did! I just... never hit send." He looked at me awkwardly. I couldn't help but start laughing, and it wasn't long before he joined me.
"You must be so lost without me, huh?" I prodded.
"Yeah, I guess that's one way to put it," he responded.
I wasn't sure how to take that. Was it amiable banter, or was that his subtle way of saying "you wish"? I pushed the thought out of my mind before I became too distracted from my original goal.
We sat in silence while I worked myself up. It was just after rush hour, but there were still tens of hundreds of cars flying by every minute. For the first time in a while, I felt peaceful. Like things were right again.
But they weren't, and they wouldn't be until I set them that way. That's why we were out there, after all. It was time for me to face the music—yet another movement in the endless symphony that began after the Formal.
As if he knew I was stuck, he turned to me and smiled. “So… how have you been?” he asked.
I tried to smile back, but I didn’t feel a single muscle in my face move. The fact that he was more interested in how I felt than an immediate apology felt weird and wrong, but it helped to ease the tension nonetheless.
“I feel like I should ask you that first,” I answered.
“I don’t know,” he responded, “Last time I saw you, you were in a twenty-foot crater.”
I winced, but shook it off.
“Yeah, and last time I saw you, you were a zombie thrall.”
Another wince. No matter how flippantly I tried to say it, those words left my mouth with a bitter aftertaste. I silently hoped there would come a day where I could recall those memories without feeling my entire body revolt, even though I knew there probably wouldn’t.
“Fair point.” Flash chuckled and looked at the highway, and with that, the conversation sputtered to a halt.
This was getting ridiculous. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, the mist from my exhale dissipating into the fading light of the evening sky. If I was going to do this, I had to rip the bandage off. If overthinking wasn't going to work, I'd have to underthink. Stream of consciousness would be my only guide.
“Look, I’m… sorry. About everything.”
I could see Flash turn toward me out of the corner of my eye, but I couldn’t see his expression. My eyes remained on the highway as I continued. “It was wrong of me to use you like I did, and I've felt awful about it ever since the formal. So, I’m sorry."
Pausing to gather my thoughts, my eyes fixed on the right side of the horizon before us, just far enough so Flash couldn’t see my face. Every word I said made me want to crawl out of my own skin and run away, and I couldn’t stand even being perceived. That, and I couldn't bear to see Flash’s reaction in my periphery the longer I went on.
"I don’t know if this will mean anything to you now, but… I miss having you around sometimes. And I don’t expect that to change anything—you don’t even have to talk to me anymore after this if you don’t want to—but, if nothing else, I just wanted you to know that, and that I’m sorry.” I let out an exhausted exhalation. "So, there."
A few agonizing moments of silence crept by. I could feel his gaze on the back of my head, but I still couldn’t bring myself to face him. My eyes just kept following the cars as they rolled by on the road.
"Right to the point, huh?" he asked. It wasn't the worst response, but it didn't do a lot to quell my anxiety.
Lifting my gloved hand up to my face, I nervously brushed a hanging lock of my hair to the side. "I owe you that much. Especially after dicking you around as much and as long as I did."
"Well, I forgive you." An inexplicable warmth spread through me as he put his hand on my shoulder. "Would have been nice to hear it a little sooner, but I'll take it."
He let out an awkward laugh. The warmth I felt from his touch slowly gave way to frigid emptiness. I knew he probably said his last sentence in jest, but that didn't take away from how shitty it made me feel. I wanted to scream at and slap him, cry, throw up, run away, and die all at once. Yet, somehow, I managed to condense all of that into a single, empty chuckle.
“You know, I really didn’t want to believe you were doing all that stuff everyone was telling me,” he offered. "It's still hard for me to believe, honestly."
Finally, I worked up the courage to look at him. He didn’t look upset; just concerned. That made me feel ill.
“What can I say? I would hope I’m good at hiding how awful I am considering how long I’ve been, well, you know… awful.”
As much as I wanted to believe I was being sarcastic at my own expense, everything I said was genuine and I knew it. Judging by his lack of reaction, Flash didn't think I was joking either.
“I didn’t say you were awful," he argued, turning his eyes toward the highway again. "Even after the Formal, I never saw it like that. Still don't, either."
“You sure about that?” I doubtfully replied. It wasn't like I wanted to be ungrateful, but if that’s truly how he felt, I wasn’t sure if he should trust his own judgment.
Still, he solemnly nodded. “Look, I’m not really good at this kind of stuff, so this might sound kinda dumb. But to me, it always seemed like you were afraid to let people in. Like, I didn’t know you were a bully, but I did notice how different you acted around others compared to me. And after everything that happened, I believe that even more.”
“Okay, so maybe I can hide the worst parts of myself,” I suggested. “I don't think it's that deep; I think that just means you could tell I was a fake.” I felt even more empty as my gaze moved to the road once more.
Flash shook his head. “Come on, Sunset, that’s not what I mean. Even if you say you never really liked me, I know I got to see a side of you no one else did. When it was just us, everything felt real, and the way people talked about you at school was so different from that.”
“I already know I’m the master of manipulation,” I said in a vague approximation of a joke. “Do you really have to keep feeding my ego?” I gave another hollow laugh. Flash’s blank stare told me he was about as entertained by my retort as I was. By that point, even I found my "witty" remarks annoying.
“Even if everyone at school only liked you because they feared you, I still saw how nice you could be. I still saw how you’d go out of your way for people sometimes, and even if you were only trying to get something out of it, even if you were just trying to keep up appearances, I could always tell that making others happy made you just as happy. You're wicked smart, incredibly talented, and pretty funny too, and those aren’t things you can just fake. They’re parts of you, you know?”
Flash shifted in his spot, stretching his legs out. “When we were around others, you’d go out of your way to perform for everyone. You were always the center of attention. You wanted everyone to think you were popular for a good reason. And when we were alone, you were always much quieter. You didn’t feel the need to prove anything to me. We could just exist together, and even if you don’t believe it, I could always tell you were happy then, too.”
I didn’t want to agree, but he wasn’t exactly wrong. Much of my school career had been a balancing act between making sure the students feared and respected me, but keeping an immaculate image on the outside. It was a stressful façade to maintain, but I maintained it well.
But when I was alone with Flash, I guess I let my guard down more than I realized. I always knew I had him in the palm of my hand, and I suppose it was easy to loosen up around him because of that. For a long time, I could get away with anything I wanted, and I could always rely on him being too smitten with me to do anything about it. So, maybe he was right.
But the more I thought about it, the more hollow I felt. It sounded like Flash was describing multiple people, and to me, none of them actually sounded like me at all. How could he know what was real? How could I know what was real? His words held more confidence in my identity than I had.
Before then, I’d only ever seen Flash as a rung to climb up on the social ladder. Maybe it was because he was showing me such compassion, but at that moment I realized there was much more to him than I ever gave him credit for. He thought so much of me before we broke up, and somehow he still did, even though I’d always thought so little of him.
“You’ve sure been thinking about this a lot, huh?” I observed.
He shrugged. “Hey, it’s hard to stop thinking about someone when you still love them.”
I tried not to show it, but that comment shook me to my core. How could he possibly say that? Even beyond our past, what was there to love about me anyway? Maybe my magical mind manipulation misaligned his brain worse than I thought.
His words released an overwhelming cocktail of emotions inside of me, none of which felt right. My mind had no room for words, so I just continued to sit there and stare into space.
My brain was fighting a war within itself. I should feel grateful that Flash was willing to be so honest and forgiving, but the fact that he was somehow made me feel so much worse. All I did was text him and ask to meet up, and after a few words, he was telling me he still loved me.
I almost felt as though I shouldn’t believe a word he said. What had I done to earn this? This was all wrong. This wasn't how things were supposed to go. All of these thoughts only worked to make me feel worse about myself, and there was hardly anything I could do to stop them.
After a lengthy pause, I finally settled on something to respond with.
“Why?”
Flash looked at me curiously. When he didn't respond, I asked more.
“What do you mean you still love me? Why do you still love me? How can you still love me?”
“That’s a lot of complicated questions at once,” he replied.
“Right, sorry. It’s just…” I completed that thought with a shrug.
“Maybe I’m just biased because of your gorgeous face.”
A sly smile spread across his lips. It made me want to puke, but my face felt warm regardless. Thankfully, my cheeks were already red from the cold, so he couldn’t see me blush when I rolled my eyes at him.
“But I think what I said before is all the reason I need. I’m pretty sure all the stuff you did isn’t who you really are, and I wanna know if I’m right.”
I scoffed. “Now if only I could get everyone else to believe that.” Getting myself to believe that would be nice too, but I resisted the urge to mention that. I'd done more than enough self-pitying throughout our interaction.
Flash chuckled nervously. “Just give it time. You’ve got friends now, and once everyone sees how good of a friend you are to them, they’ll come around.”
I let out a deep sigh. “Yeah.”
Those friends I have. The girls at school who (mostly) put up with me. The same ones that were all off having fun without me. I tried to hide my dejection, but I could tell by how Flash looked at me that he picked up on it.
“Speaking of which, how are things going with the girls?”
“They’re going,” I responded. An uncomfortable silence passed between us before he realized I wasn’t going to expand on that.
“I take it things are still a little awkward with them?” he inquired.
“That’s one way to put it.” I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “It’s pretty tough to measure how any of them feel about me, though. Sometimes, I feel like we’re making progress. Though most of the time I feel like dead weight. It doesn't help that one of them in particular makes me feel like I’m not wanted at all, and it makes things weird with the rest of them.”
His face contorted into confusion at that last point. “Who?”
“Rainbow Dash,” I answered with a groan.
"Dash?" he repeated. “I’m surprised. That doesn’t sound like her at all."
“Maybe not to you,” I replied, “but if you knew our history, you’d probably understand.”
He scratched the back of his head. "Even then, I wouldn't think she'd be hostile toward you. Those girls have forgiven people worse than you."
Knitting my brow, I squinted at him. "Really, Flash? Worse than me? Worse than blowing a hole open in the school? Worse than taking over most of the student body? Worse than attempted murder?"
Flash's expression shifted several times before he just looked away. "Okay, so, maybe they haven't, but still; she'll probably come around eventually. I've always known Dash to be the type that speaks her mind. If she didn't want you around, she'd just tell you."
"I wish that's how I knew her," I said, "If it was, she might finally tell me to piss off by now. Then I could stop trying."
With a worried look, Flash turned his head toward me again. “How has she been making you feel unwelcome? If you don’t mind talking about it.”
When I opened my mouth to answer, it became apparent to me how difficult it was to answer that question. My memory was failing me on specifics. My problem with her consists of so many seemingly insignificant negative interactions that it’s impossible to keep track of them all. How was I supposed to answer? A lot of really tiny petty things? All that would do was make me sound petty myself.
Instead of delaying, I gave him my best shot at an answer. “It’s hard to pin it on just a few things because it's so many little things. Like, just today, we were sitting at lunch, and every time I opened my mouth to speak she’d talk over me, and it happened so many times that it had to be intentional.”
When I didn't continue, Flash raised an eyebrow. “…That it?”
My face began to heat up. “Well, no, there’s plenty more, but it’s the most recent thing in memory. There are a bunch of different things she does like that. Like, she really loves to “jokingly” bring up some of the stuff I did before the Formal. And it’s like… does she expect me to be over it already? Because how can I be when no one else is?”
Despite my explanation, Flash remained unconvinced. “I haven’t been around you all, so I guess I don’t really know. But I’ve known her a long time, and to me, that just sounds like Dash being Dash.”
This part of the conversation was a mistake. I should have just kept it all to myself. His disbelief made me feel even worse about the whole thing, and I just felt like a whiny bitch. I probably didn't have a right to be upset in the first place.
“Yeah, you haven’t been there,” I snapped. I was hoping my tone would sever this conversational thread, but it must not have been sharp enough.
Instead, Flash looked at me sympathetically and pressed on. "Dash is just loud like that. And maybe she jokes about it for the opposite reason? Maybe it's to let you know she doesn't hold it against you like everyone else does?"
"That's real optimistic of you, Flash."
He sheepishly averted his gaze back to the road. Then the uncomfortable quiet began again. I was half expecting him to get up and walk off after shutting down the conversation like that, but he spoke up once more.
“Well... aside from Rainbow Dash, how are things with the rest of them?” he cautiously asked.
“Just as weird as ever," I said with a shrug. I was going to leave it at that, but then I remembered the encounter with Fluttershy. "Though, I guess one of them surprised me today.”
He looked at me inquisitively. "Really? Who and how so?”
“Fluttershy,” I answered. “We ran into each other in a bathroom before lunch ended. She asked me if I was okay because I had left lunch early. Then she invited me to band practice.”
Flash looked at me with shock and confusion. “Really? Fluttershy?”
“I was just as surprised as you are.”
“Well? Did you go?”
I brought out my phone and looked at the time. “They would have started less than half an hour ago, so you can draw your own conclusion from that.”
That didn’t do anything to quell Flash’s confusion. If anything, he looked even more confused.
“I don't understand,” he said. “Why wouldn’t you go?”
“I’m just not really big on the idea of watching them all have fun while I sit around, pretending any of the rest of them actually want me there.”
Flash's expression shifted from confusion back to sympathy. “I guess I get that. But if Fluttershy is willing to invite you, I don't think they're pretending to like you. I really think you should have gone.”
“Haven't you noticed I just really like doing the wrong thing on purpose by now?”
He gave me a half-lidded glare.
“Hey, if it means anything, I told her I appreciated the offer. So I don’t think she thinks I declined because of her. At least I hope not.”
His glare lightened up. "That's good, at least. I will say, though: if Fluttershy is on your side, Dash can't be far behind. Her and Rainbow Dash have always been tight, so if you and Shy get close, she'll probably come around."
Flash's words hit me like a sack of bricks. How had I not made that connection myself? Not only did I feel guilty for rejecting her invitation, worse yet, I felt like a moron. If Fluttershy accepted me, Rainbow Dash would probably accept me too.
At least Fluttershy didn't seem that discouraged after I said no. With any luck, maybe she'd invite me again. I could only hope I hadn't squandered my only opportunity, but with how I snapped at her, I wouldn’t have been surprised if I had.
Something about this revelation felt strange, though. Was this actually a sound plan? Could I front well enough to make Fluttershy like me more? Was it okay for me to make friends with her just so Dash would stop being a jerk? I suppose we could become friends for more than one reason, but I’d be lying if I said my primary motive wouldn’t be just to get her idiot friend off my back.
Before that train of thought could race away from me, Flash derailed it.
“One more thing." He paused for a moment and looked down at the ground. Then his eyes met mine. "Umm… I meant to ask earlier, but… would you be interested in, uhh… trying again?”
I gave him a perplexed look. Before I could even think of opening my mouth and asking what he meant, it suddenly clicked: he was asking me out again. If my last train of thought was speeding, this one was racing at light speed.
This was my chance. Everyone at school knew about the rise and fall of our relationship, so if Flash and I got back together, the other students would have to start warming up to me. And maybe if the girls saw me hook up with him, they’d realize I really have changed. Everything would turn around for me.
I opened my mouth to answer, but the words stopped before they could leave my mouth.
It would undoubtedly make my life easier to say yes, but there was an important question I had to ask myself before I could give an honest answer. A question I didn’t want to ask, and one I didn’t know if I could answer.
Did I love him?
Sure, I felt comfortable around him. Anyone I could comfortably sit around in silence with was someone I trusted to some extent. But that extent was as far as I could take my feelings for him.
Thinking about him and me walking down the school hallways hand in hand excited me, but what was so exciting about that? Was it the fact that I’d be with him, or was it the idea of freely walking through the halls without feeling like I’m being pursued by a pack of ravenous animals?
Then I thought about the walk home. If I said yes, I know he’d offer to walk me there, and we'd do so hand in hand. That got my heart racing. But was it the prospect of being romantically involved with Flash that was appealing, or was I attracted to the idea of not being lonely anymore?
Most of that sounded amazing. I had to say yes—only someone brain dead wouldn't. So what if I didn't feel for him? My life would completely turn around in the span of a few short weeks—possibly sooner—and all I had to do was just say yes. I could always just let him down easy after everything was settled, too. And who knows? Maybe with enough time, I could learn to love the guy. It could work!
But in the end, the idea of being with Flash specifically did nothing for me, and my heart sank as I came to terms with that. The hollowness I felt from earlier emptied me of all the hope his question gave me. I knew I couldn't say yes. No matter which way I looked at it, I didn’t want him. I wanted what being with him would afford me: an easy way to get everyone to lay off of me, an end to the bitter loneliness, and the comfort of knowing someone is in my corner for once.
But none of those things were Flash himself. And as much as I shouldn’t have cared, that wouldn’t be fair to him. If I said yes without meaning it, I'd begin building yet another mountain of lies. It may fool everyone, but deep inside, I would know the truth, and when I inevitably slipped up, I'd be back at square one. It was debatable whether or not I deserved the second chance I'd been given; would I even be considered for a third?
With a long defeated sigh, I pushed myself to do the right thing.
“Flash, look, I… I think you’re a really sweet guy, and I’d be glad to be your friend, but I just don’t feel that way about you.” My stomach dropped as the words left my mouth. It was hard to tell who would feel worse at the end of this.
I looked away from him and closed my eyes. Something inside me wanted him to get angry—just to get it over with and tell me off for bringing him out here just to waste his time again. I was out here trying to lead him on again just because I was lonely, and he had to know that.
But, to my surprise, he just put his hand on my shoulder again. And when I felt that familiar warmth wash over me, I turned to face him.
“That’s alright,” he said with a smile. “And thanks for the honesty. I know that was kinda out of nowhere, but didn’t want to walk away without trying again. But I’m fine with being friends. Regardless of what we are, I’d like to get to know the real Sunset Shimmer.”
It was hard to say whether I felt more guilt or relief. Instead of debating it, I tried to focus on the more comfortable of the two. I smiled back at him.
Flash pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket. “Anyway, I should head back home.” He put his phone away as we both stood up off the ground, wiping the grass off the backs of our pants. “You should, too. Won't be long and it'll be even colder out here.”
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure I’m gonna get sick if I stay out here any longer," I replied.
We both stood there awkwardly for a few seconds. Flash looked around, as did I. One of us could have started moving at any moment, but it was like neither of us wanted to. Like we were both waiting for something to happen, we just didn't know what. That's when, for the second time that day, I felt an impulse. And like before, instead of giving myself a chance to talk myself out of it, I acted on it.
Stepping forward, I pulled Flash into a tight hug. It took him by surprise, but after a second he returned the gesture. Even if his body was cold, I still felt warmth in his embrace.
“Thanks, Flash,” I muttered. I could feel a lump form in my throat as he wrapped his arms around me.
“Hey, what are friends for?”
I could feel my face heat up as it rested against his neck. Even if it was going to get colder, I could have probably spent the rest of the night standing in that spot wrapped in his arms.Everything about that hug felt so wonderful. It was the closest thing to intimacy I had felt in such a long time, and this time it was real. It wasn't predicated on manipulation like it was every time before. It was a genuine, mutual show of affection.
Eventually, he pulled away. When he did, we both began walking down the sidewalk. Once we reached the first intersection of the neighborhood, we said our goodbyes again and went our separate ways.
When we weren’t facing each other anymore, I could feel tears begin to stream down my face. I hadn't even felt them coming, but I welcomed them just the same. The last time I could recall crying was at the Fall Formal. Since then, I’d wanted to cry many times, but tears always seemed to escape me when I needed them most. Unlike when I cried at the formal, this time it felt good. There was no negativity in these tears; only relief. That was the first time in my life I’d met catharsis. Better late than never.
As I continued my walk home, I pulled out my phone and navigated to my contacts. For the third time that day, I acted on impulse. After finding the right name on the list, I clicked it with my thumb. Our text message history came up—all zero messages between us. We exchanged numbers months ago but had never texted each other. But that night, that was going to change, and I was going to be the one to do it.
>hey Fluttershy. you all still at Applejack's?