//------------------------------// // 10. The Eye of the Ice Storm // Story: Empathy for the Devil // by MarvelandPonder //------------------------------// Sunset Shimmer, if only briefly, considered starting a new life in another dimension, with no plan whatsoever, in order to avoid her feelings. Again. She could make a break for it. Would it be hard to assume a new name? She didn’t mind the sound of Sundown Smolder. If she could guarantee there were other universes besides Equestria that she was capable of travelling to, as she and Twilight had theorized, she would have been seriously tempted.  If, of course, that didn’t mean leaving behind her friends and girlfriend.  As the lot of them let out from Solstice Shiver’s counselling office, Sunset didn’t feel like facing the group of people keeping her in this dimension. On her way out, Solstice snagged Sunset back. “You know, regardless of what you decide,” he said to her, “I’ll admit, I’ve been hoping to find time with you in particular. Everything you’ve done is extraordinary and you don’t even know! When I was your age⁠—” With grunting effort, he managed to stop himself before spinning off into a story from the Day and how it was back when he was in it. “You’re categorically gravitational at this school.” Whatever category of natural disaster she’d managed to achieve, Sunset had to agree: whether she wanted to or not, she ruled this school. Disaster revolved around her on a cosmic scale. At least now she knew why. Twisting on her heel toward the door, Sunset sighed every bit as moodily as she did when she was Princess Celestia’s snide pupil, “You could say that.”  “You look tired,” he said. “Are you getting enough sleep?”  Sunset caught the thin side of the door in her palm, as if using it as a crutch, and shook her head. “Yeah, yeah, I’m good.” Solstice let a sigh fall through his nose, and nodded, his smile pressed into a thin line. “I’m always tired, too.” Sunset paused, and turned back towards him.  Independent from her, her heart catapulted into her mouth and she found herself unable to say anything when she saw Solstice’s eyes burning so cold that vapor billowed off the sides like dry ice. The thin strips replacing his pupils reached down and awoke some instinctual urge to run, but she could see the gentle slope of his smile hadn’t changed.  “You’re right. It’s getting worse and that’s scary.” He gestured towards his eyes. “That’s also why I fight so hard. I have to master it, because if I don’t, I’m not the only one who pays for it. But look.” He screwed his eyes shut tight, and with a few mumbled nothings about calm and peaceful surrenders, he opened them green. Himself. “Impressive,” Sunset mumbled. The idea of controlling her own demon form at the Fall Formal was so out of the realm of possibility for her. If Solstice really could suppress that much magic, she admired the Tartarus out of his willpower. But it also reminded her what a burden she’d placed on the people here like him. She didn’t mention the snow fluttering down in the windowpane behind him. Solstice collected his hands in front of him. “How you deal with your magic is your decision. I can’t make it for you. I think I can help you help your friends, but that’s up to you. Whenever you’re ready.” “... I’ll think about it,” Sunset promised, because Celestia be damned, a part of her nearly wanted to say yes⁠—if only to help him deal with what Equestrian magic had put him through. And, have someone to come to for guidance who knew how bad it was. But her eyes fell away. “But, honestly? … I don’t think I will be.” Much like the portal she ran through all those years ago, Sunset Shimmer walked out the door and couldn’t look back. Following the careful tck-bm of the door closing shut, she massaged her temples with her palms. Out in the hall, her friends gathered in a speculative circle, which she had to push straight through. “Out already?” Twilight perked up. “Did you book an appointment?” Sunset shook her head. “I told him no. I don’t want to go to counselling.” That’s when she heard Rainbow Dash use Flash Sentry’s voice against her: “Um. What? What do you mean you don’t want to go to counselling? I’d kinda like to be back in my body thanks??? You said you’d fix this!” “I am⁠—I will!” Despite the air readily available in the hall around them, Sunset somehow felt claustrophobic. There were nine of them with the boys included. A weight ratcheted up the tightness at her chest at the base of her throat and she pulled at the neck of Flash’s T-shirt, still leftover from when he’d been her this morning. She huffed out a breath. “I haven’t stopped trying, I swear, but come on: counselling? You really think that’s going to solve anything?” Flash set his jaw to the side, rubbing one of his well-defined biceps. “Well... don’t we owe it to everyone to try?” Timber folded his arms, avoiding his boyfriend’s gaze. Sunset waved Flash off. “Obviously, but what? Am I going to sit on a couch and cry my way to the solution? Because I don’t cry period and especially not in front of people. It’s, ugh, weird.” The last time Sunset had, one of the only times she had, would have been at the bottom of that crater after her demon transformation. It wasn’t a treasured memory Sunset was eager to recreate. She crossed her arms. “Therapy isn’t going to help here.” “It can help with more than you think.” Fluttershy laid a pink hand on Sunset’s arm, then, terrifyingly, managed to make the shallow blue waters of Pinkie Pie’s eyes appear chilling as northern ocean depths, like she could see right through her. “Sunset, you’re not afraid of counselling, are you?” “Wh⁠—?! No!” A sticky swelter blasted through her cheeks the same way the air conditioner in her apartment expelled its hot, stale air before finding the cool stuff. She shoved her hands across her chest. “I don’t want to know what some stranger has to say about every little thing I’ve ever done, alright? It’s pointless!” As much as she meant it, she felt glad Solstice likely couldn’t hear.  “You could talk to your friends,” Fluttershy said in Pinkie’s voice, and the looks around her were more pointed than Sunset anticipated. She said it like she was waggling a doggie treat above Sunset’s nose. “We’re still right here.” “This isn’t about me,” Sunset declared to make it so, “it’s about friendship—and we’re the experts at that. We’ve taken down every enemy who’s ever come up against us and won with a smile. Any magical problem, we fix, any lost teen in need of a friend, we’re there for. We’re the Rainbooms! We’re Canterlot Wondercolts! We’ve never needed help before!” “Uh, yeah we have,” Applejack told her, using a tone of voice so sassy it was almost hard to believe Fluttershy’s voice could vocalise it. “That’s kind of what friendship is?” Deflating her puffed up chest, Sunset grunted. “You know what I mean. I’m pep-talking. We can do this. The point is we can do this.” “MmmI don’t know...” Pinkie Pie twiddled her manicured fingers and their purple nail polish. She noticed eyes on her and a smile burst back to life. “Not that we’re not super-duper amaze-tacular at friendship, but we’ve tried doing it our way already. Lots of times! Can’t say we didn’t give it the old CHS try! But, maybe that doesn’t work for everything? Maybe there’s some things you can’t fix on your own and maybe that’s okay, too. Maybe this is one of those maybe things.” Sunset stared at her. “Pinkie, that’s… really depressing.” Pinkie Pie shrugged, trying to smile it better.  Aside from Timber, who kept quiet in the back as if hoping not to be noticed, all the rest of them gave her those supportive smiles that nearly broke her. The worst part was that they all seemed to think this was what was best for her, and would do anything as her friends to help her get the Help she needed.  They were such great friends. Such great people. They had excellent adventures ahead of them and they all deserved that and more. These dorks deserved the best lives the multiverse had to offer them.  It was universally unfair that she’d injected herself into the middle of a group of people who were this sweet and this supportive when she was such a bad friend. Fuck... I’m every bit as selfish as I used to be and you’re all too good to see it. And then a sick certainty settled inside her. I’m going to lose you. And I’ll deserve it. Sunset turned away from their gentle smiles so she wouldn’t have to see them fall, hands gripped so tight in her pockets the nails ate at her palms. “I-I don’t know, girls…” The moment hung on a little longer. Then, what would normally be Timber’s voice rose from the quiet. “Okay.” She heard footsteps coming towards her as well as Rainbow Dash asking, “It is???” Twilight placed a hand on Sunset’s tensed up shoulder, and she grimaced at how Sunset flinched. Standing between Sunset and their friends, Twilight said, “Okay. If you’re not comfortable going to counselling—” And there was enough eye contact that Twilight didn’t have to ask. “—maybe we can try an alternative. I think outside help is still a good idea.” “Thank you,” Sunset murmured, placing a hand over her girlfriend’s, if only briefly. Sunset hesitated, but with her friends gathered in earshot, she raised a tentative eyebrow. “What did you have in mind?” If ever there was a penthouse that embodied bubblegum pop music, Sunset supposed she’d found it. In addition to being a legitimately upscale place that made Sunset’s wallet ache just thinking about it⁠—enjoying a vista view of the snow-glittering city over a now frozen infinity pool on the balcony from the comfort of a loveseat by the fire⁠—Hearts and Hooves Day was alive and well in each tasteful, love-themed decoration. The four of them had promised to meet after school at this, the newest and most architecturally sleek and unique apartment buildings in downtown, per Twilight’s instruction. While Sunset wasn’t necessarily crazy about the idea, she liked it a lot better than letting Solstice find ways to blame everyone’s problems on her (she’d made that job exceedingly easy). What she liked even less was that it gave the others time to properly change and now Twilight had dressed Timber Spruce’s body up in what Sunset could only guess would have been Twilight’s dream for the doofus back when those two were dating: in other words, like that science-fictional time-traveler with a PhD that Twilight often geeked out to Sunset about. A smart bow-tie and sweater-vest combination matched some sensible shoes and an attempt at combing that wild fluffy hair (not a successful one, maybe, but an attempt). Sunset knew full well Twilight herself dressed that way so Sunset did her best not to read into that, but that didn’t mean she had to like it that the look sort of worked. In a Applewood-version of a nerd way. Sunset also didn’t much care for Timber putting his beanie and puffy vest on Twilight. The whole affair looked like the mix-up a couple would make in the afterglow by blindly reaching for their clothes in the dark, and if anything Twilight should have been wearing Sunset’s jacket right about now. At least Flash had the decency not to piss Sunset off without meaning to (and she knew she couldn’t necessarily blame Timber and Twilight and that’s what made her even grumpier about it), but even he seemed pretty intent on flexing his muscles. In his case, quite literally. If there wasn’t a snowstorm outside, Sunset couldn’t be certain that Flash wouldn’t have shown up in a muscle tee. Instead, he settled on a varsity sweater tight to his biceps with CHS in big letters, likely for some sort of sport (though Sunset didn’t know what for and doubted Flash did either).  Enjoy it while it lasts, I guess? Sunset couldn't tell if that would make things worse or better when he got back to his own body. Out of anyone, though, she thought Flash had earned a little body positivity. As a treat. Together, they’d ascended to the tip-top floor of one of the tallest buildings in the Canterlot City skyline. Timber jittered the entire elevator in excitement and with her gut already roiling, Sunset did not need the jolt in the box holding them up from a twelve storey fall. “Timber.” “Yup,” he said, and stopped, but his little kid caliber smile kept up high. A ding and a walk down a lavish hall later, they arrived at a door emboldened by the golden numbers 2013. Twilight knocked on the door and stepped back to play with her hands. In normal circumstances, Sunset would have grabbed one of those hands to interrupt her brainy girlfriend’s thoughts before they could race too far ahead of herself, rub little circles in the back of her hand to bring her back down to earth or squeeze to let Twilight know she was right there with her. They managed to say a lot with a touch. Sunset might have cheated on their pause if Timber and Flash weren’t there to keep her accountable.  The door opened and pushed a beautiful rosewater perfume into the hall, revealing its owner and her goddess-like smile upon seeing all of them together. Principal Cadance brightened. “Twilight!” Weirdly, she’d smiled at and hugged the correct person, but it only took Sunset a moment to work out that Twilight had likely backloaded her texts with the backstory. Cadance smiled to the rest of them almost apologetically. “It’s so good to see you all. Even if I'm not currently seeing you.” She side-hugged Sunset in particular while Twilight continued to hug her. Sunset and Cadance grinned at each other, not unlike how they had across the table over Harvest Moon dinner.  Then she did the same to Timber and it irked Sunset to no end.  “Timber, it’s been so long, I’m glad you’re okay!” Cadance said, inviting them in and getting a good look at him. “Your sister called a few days ago looking for you. She sounded a little, um, frantic? She said something about stealing the camp jeep and disappearing without telling her?” “Yeah... I put her through a lot. I’ll make it up to her somehow. I gave her the number of a good counsellor, at least,” he said, rubbing his neck. Sunset would have normally assumed that was a joke, but he’d been texting his sister every hour on the hour. Fantastic. Another name on the list of people her magic had sent to psychotherapy. “Warpath Gloriosa is a scary beast. You’re a braver woman than I.” Cadance giggled. “Glad to see you haven’t changed. Well, on the inside, at least. I’ve got to admit, it’s a little strange to see Twilight so… Timber.” Sunset Shimmer also hated this very much. She agreed that it went against the laws of nature (and Sunset was a horse from another dimension, so she knew disobeying natural law). She steamed silently, but did her best to be polite about it. Because she had to. He was her new best friend, after all. Cadance led the way inside her apartment, which was how Sunset found herself overlooking the heavy blanket of snow tucking the entire city in. From all the way up here, it was easier to tell that beyond the city’s limits, the weather wasn’t nearly this… dramatic.  Sunset frowned as scones and tea was served. Under control, my flank. When I get the girls back to normal, we’ll have to do something about him. And she thought that was a shame, but she’d do what she had to if it meant keeping her friends safe. Then again, Sunset thought she should maybe leave that job to Cadance. A photo rested on the mantle in an elegant heart-shaped-frame: Shining Armour, still young enough to be wearing his Crystal Prep uniform hugging Cadance in a death-grip as she wore what Sunset now recognized as a Nightfall Reach uniform, military caps raining around them like so many tossed graduation caps.  The broad sword engraved with hearts hung over it looked like it could also do some damage, too, if need be. Timber whistled at it before taking a seat. The loveseat across from the gas, glass-encased fireplace was just big enough for the three of them while Twilight took the chair closest to Cadance. As soon as Cadance set down the snacks, Twilight’s eyes widened as if she’d been starved for three days in solitary confinement—but she wasn’t looking at the pretzels and scones.   “Is that a ring?!” Twilight squawked.  Cadance looked at once confused and interested at her own finger, and then at Twilight. A laugh of a smile came out. “Yes. A promise ring.” Twilight caught her chest as if concerned something inside might otherwise escape. “O-oh! Oh, wow, that's amazing, that’s—wow. I-I almost thought, um⁠, oh gosh—” “Awww, congratulations!” Flash gushed, his hands sinking into his heated cheeks. He gently laid his hand under Cadance’s, admiring the sparkle of the ring. Silver twisted into the delicate shape of two hearts intertwined across her finger. “It’s beautiful. Must be quality.” Timber leaned around Sunset to grin fiendishly at his boyfriend. “Huh. Didn’t take you for a diamond kind of guy. Noted.” While Flash turned rosie enough for the freckles of Applejack’s checks to stand out, Sunset’s mouth jerked to the side as she popped an elbow into Timber’s ribs.  “Yup,” Timber said, rubbing his side. “It’s really nice,” Sunset told Cadance. She didn’t want to not say anything, but Twilight had also told her before that Cadance was a reason she knew she also liked girls. Sunset had been the major revelation, but in hindsight, some things made a lot more sense. Even if Twilight was past all that junior high pining (that she’d only recently recognized as pining), having her first crush engaged to be engaged to her brother had to be rough. For her part, Cadance had so much kindness in her eyes it made Twilight blush. “Shining Armour didn’t tell you he gave this to me.” Twilight wrung her hands over and over, as if they were tripping over themselves as a laugh spilled out. “Well, I’m sure he would’ve warned me if he had time to see me in person. Or let me know he’d been in town. This is face-to-face news!” She smiled just tight enough that it must have hurt. “Regardless, I’m really happy for you two. Really!” “That’s good,” Cadance told her. “I’m glad to have your approval. I promise you, when there’s an engagement ring involved, I’m not letting you find out when we send out the wedding invitations. I don't want us to become a Weddings and Funerals kind of family." Twilight didn't seem to know how to take that. If anything, she appeared actively confused, something Sunset hadn't seen often in her girlfriend but she recognized even in Twilight's now Timbery face as a genius battling down another monumental concept. With a conceptual crossbow. "Oh… is that… bad?" She looked to the others for some kind of sign either way, but all Timber could do was shrug; Sunset stared blankly since, well, the Sparkles were one of the only families she'd seen operate up close and personal and she’d thought they were pretty great; and Flash chose this exact moment to shove a scone in his mouth. Cadance softened. “I want you to be involved, anyway. I’m sure Shining Armour does, too.” She refilled Twilight’s teacup for her to mercifully give Twilight something else to focus on. Sunset liked Cadance. And not just because Cadance liked her for Twilight; she’d been so excited for her and Twilight when they became a couple. If Sunset was being totally honest, she hadn’t thought about what it would be like to be introduced to the Sparkle family on Twilight’s arm. She felt a little dim for not even considering it, effectively being blindsided a second time since Flash also happened to have a family. Not that she cared back when they were dating. Just more people to put up a front in front of, as nice as they were. She still didn’t trust Flash’s little brother Scout after the first time the little skunk filled her boots with shaving cream for being mean to Flash⁠—which she probably deserved, but still. Little twerp. This time, though, Sunset cared almost too much. Twilight somehow got the idea that her family would like Sunset for who she was, and the fact that Twilight was sharing a side of her life with her made Sunset want to step up⁠ to be part of it—but it wasn’t until she met those people that she found herself shocked at how… nice it felt to have them welcome her.  Warm, filling meals around a table with busy people relieved to finally be together⁠—and not only that, but included her in that together. That kind of nice.  So nice she spent the entire Harvest Moon weekend and several days after school afterwards just spending time with them. Nightlight had to race off to an international interstellar conference on his often academically scoffed at, but scientifically compelling multiverse theory (Sunset decided it wasn’t her place to tell him). And soon after, Twilight Velvet had to leave for another globetrotting book tour⁠—the books Twilight treasured reading for the first time more than anything else when her mom was away⁠—and not long after Shining Armour had to leave for his classes at Princesston. But Cadance stuck around, and even if Sunset didn’t entirely know why these people were so important to her, they kind of were? She really appreciated them, at least. They didn’t assume the worst of her.  She liked to think she may have even charmed them⁠—once upon a time she’d been excessively good at diplomacy with foreign dignitaries (even well after she was just the cute little filly with the big teal doe eyes poking her chin over the table in war rooms), but that usually required putting on a bit of an act. Just being herself and winning people over? Connecting with them genuinely and that being enough? She was only really comfortable calling it nice, but Celestia damn it if it didn’t feel really, really nice. Cadance lured them in with scones, tea, and toasty fireplace glow before telling them, “So, Twilight tells me you four have a bit of a problem you wanted to talk about? Relationship problems?” Sunset choked, and not just because she’d been scarfing down a buttery scone. “What? No,” she said, but her voice struggled not to sound strained. She pounded her chest to remind her internal organs to function correctly. “Our relationships are fantastic. Yeah, we’re on a brief pause, but it’s only because we’re literally not the right people for each other—as in physically not the right people.” Cadance bowed her chin, the way adults did to look kids in the eye. “And how do you four feel about the fact that your ex is dating one of your friends? Is that hard?” Out of all of them, Flash smiled, chuckling through his words. “I don’t know, I like seeing Twilight and Sunset happy. They’re so good together. Sunset’s worked super hard to be a better person from who she used to be and Twilight never used to have any of the friendships or romantic stuff she has now⁠—it’s hard not to root for them.” Sunset cracked open a smirk, fist-bumping him then laying out her hand to display Flash as Exhibit A. “Exactly. We’re all different people than we were in the past so everything’s fine. Flash and I are best buds now and Twilight and Timber are becoming friends again, too.” As she said that, she gestured to Twilight as Exhibit B. “Our pasts are not today.” Twilight stayed quieter than Sunset anticipated. When Sunset looked over, she found her girlfriend had one arm clutched by the other hard. Fire crackled, logs shifting.  Timber’s eyebrows pressed together, floating up as if levitating. “... Are we friends?” “O-of course I want to be! You’re great! I don’t want to lose you totally.” They shared each other’s gazes for a longer moment than Sunset had seen in months. Maybe recognizing that, Twilight bit her lip back and gripped her arm. “You’re not doing anything wrong. I ruined things between us. I don’t have any right to be upset with you.” Cadance’s gentle voice prompted, “But are you?” Twilight pressed her mouth flat.  Timber stood from the couch to come ask Cadance, “May I?” in order to sit in front of Twilight on the edge of the coffee table, next to the biscuits and tea.  “Hey. You’re contradicting yourself. That’s not like you.” Twirling it first in his hands, Timber took a pale pink heart-shaped pillow from the couch, like a plush valentine. “Either I didn’t do anything wrong or you’re upset about something so much we can’t be friends. Both can’t be true and that means, ipso facto,” he said, and gave her the pillow along with the ghost of a smirk, “you’re holding out on me, Sparkle.” Sunset watched him do that, simmering.  “What I’m upset about isn’t your fault,” Twilight insisted, and rather than fiddling with it, let her arms fall loose around the pillow in her lap. She took an uncomfortable sigh that seemed to stick in her throat partway through. “I know I worry too much.” “You worry the perfect amount, baby,” Sunset insisted, then faltered. “That came out wrong. You’re perfect. And it’s okay. You can talk to us.” Flash nodded on the couch beside her.  Pausing only to send Sunset a grateful look that couldn’t last long enough, Twilight pressed her lips together before finding Timber’s eyes again. “In hindsight keeping you from magic was a mistake; but things get dangerous with magic around. You could get hurt. You did. Did those nightmares about Gloriosa ever even go away?” Timber’s hardened expression didn’t move. Twilight nodded. “I’d do anything if I could keep you safe from that. After everything at camp and with Gloriosa turning into a demon, I didn’t want to keep putting you through trauma. And, honestly, I liked having some semblance of normalcy in our lives⁠—and I knew you did too! But I think... that’s the main reason we grew apart. We could’ve figured out long distance for college, if it came to that. Keeping you from magic kept you from me, too.” There was a slight shake to Timber’s head. “Twi… I never asked you to keep me away from magic.” “Exactly!” She pointed at him. “I knew you never would! You don’t worry about you like I do! You’re courageous, and bold, and terrifically smart and all those things are wonderful but you don’t ever think about yourself and what you need.”  Flash nodded, eyes briefly rising. Twilight’s now green eyes searched for the ceiling, shaking her head, and they sparkled in the light when she brought them back down. “I mean gosh, Timber, out of everybody I’ve ever known, I don’t think anybody deserves to have a normal life more than you. Fun dates. The mall. Friends to hang out with who don’t desert you, and parties, and weird hobbies we laugh about together: You deserve that.” Sunset grimaced. “So once you and I finally had that, I protected it.” Having let go of the pillow, she pressed her balled fists to her chest, but that position must have made it harder to breathe. Noticing this, Twilight unfurled her hands, looking at her fingers. “I guess at my own expense.” Cadance only stole their attention long enough to say, “From what you’ve told me, the breakup had to do with a number of things, but if you felt like you couldn’t talk about an important part of your life, that’s going to be hard on a relationship.” “Yeah. Well, for what it counts?” Timber said. “I loved all the freaky magic parts. We could’ve talked about our plans for prom, quiz bowl trivia, and the end of the world in the same conversation and if we were scared about any of those, it made it better just because it was you and me. But you stopped talking. That’s when it got really scary to me.” “… See, but that’s another reason it’s not your fault that I’m upset. I don’t know if it’s fair to say, but I’m not the only one who stopped talking.” They shared a look that Sunset couldn’t decipher, but it seemed to make Timber concede. Point Sparkle.  “That’s not why we broke up, though,” Timber muttered. “You never had to hide any part of yourself from me. Still don’t.” Twilight breathed a laugh, “Well, now I can’t. You can teleport halfway across the world.” Timber’s eyebrows pulled in. “So. So what? That means we can’t be friends?”  “I didn’t say that,” she told him, and paused long enough that Sunset noticed her hanging onto the moment before she had to say anything else. “But, I don’t know how we’re supposed to act around each other, either. It took me so long to text you again. I’ve never done this before.  “Now, I don’t know. I’m trying to forget how we were together and how it all felt because I don’t ever want to forget but now I think I have to and I’m so worried about you all the time now, it's—” She rubbed her face. It twisted Sunset’s heart to hear Twilight’s voice choke up, even despite the fact that it was Timber’s voice doing all the emoting. “Gah, I’m sorry. Sorry. Oooh, I’m a mess at being someone’s ex. But that’s what I’m upset about, too. I don’t think being exes is something we can pause.” “... Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. And, if it helps, I’m not much better.” Timber sunk his hand through the hair at the nape of his neck. “But, I don’t know… it’s been nice to spend time together again. I like your friends.” She smiled, tears bending around it. “They like you, too.”  Timber’s eyes widened, froze there for a moment, then dropped to the floor. “... But you and I aren’t friends.” “... I want to be,” Twilight offered. She hugged the pillow tighter and used the soft part of her palm to dry her eye. “I think we’re still learning how, but I-I-I don’t know. I don’t want to lose you.” Girlfriend or not, Sunset refused to let her best friend’s heart break a second time over Timber Spruce. Fuck the pause. Sunset was there, that same night after the breakup. She dried Twilight’s tears, ate breakup ice cream with her, but perhaps most importantly, held on for that long broken moment swaying in the doorframe of her apartment.  All Timber gave her in response was a listless, “Yeah. I know.” “So, you don’t want to lose each other. That’s a place to start,” Cadance told them gently, but Sunset was getting mad that it wasn’t coming from Timber. Out of all the times to drop his indomitable enthusiasm, he had to pick now? A goofy pun, a smarmy line—anything? Nothing to stop Twilight from worrying herself sick? Flash turned to Sunset then, fiddling with a gingersnap so much he broke it in two. “I know you said we don’t have to give up our magic, but do you think it would be easier? Like, for everybody? I know magic is your thing. If we’re butting in where we don’t belong, it’s okay. You can tell us.” “I didn’t say that, either!” Twilight argued, the frustration starting to mount in a hoarse way that Timber’s voice rarely if ever approached. “Both of you should get to embrace your magic! It’s yours! You should never have to feel ashamed of it⁠—I want you to be proud! And you two make a great couple. I’m so happy for you! Even if I don’t know how to come to terms with the fact that you have magic now, that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t!” Sunset massaged her forehead as Twilight went on about how their magic was a gift, not a curse. The exact same thing Sunset had to tell Twilight back at Camp Everfree. Or the girls when they got their geodes. Or countless other people whose lives Sunset disrupted like an atom bomb.  If Sunset did run through a new portal, start a new life with a new name. Would she always have that same effect? Was she just a destructive force bringing magic wherever she touched? When Twilight rambled herself out on the subject of pride in one’s magic, Principal Cadance smiled at the four of them. “Wow. It sounds like you have a lot you’ve been holding back from each other. You haven’t really had this conversation before, have you?” The four exchanged looks. Flash pawed at the arm of the couch. “Uh, yeah, no.” “Bits and pieces,” Twilight mumbled.  “Well,” Cadance ventured, pouring them another cup of tea, “what do you want to happen when you switch everyone back?” The moment refused to die. The sound of the fire crackling on filled the background, sucking oxygen from the room the longer it went on. Sunset eventually couldn’t take it much more. She folded her arms. “I want my girlfriend back.” “Uh yeah. Unpausing’s going to be seriously great,” Flash agreed, reaching for Timber’s gaze. “And I’d like to stay friends with the boys. I love you two. Getting to know you both better has been really nice,” Twilight said, smiling at Flash in particular. But it dropped when she had to address the boy sitting on the table in front of her. She gave him the pillow back. “But, um… maybe... you and I do have to set boundaries for a while? That might be good for us.”  Timber nodded, distantly. However far away he was made his purple eyes dim to a grey, like mist over distant mountains. Even if it hurt, Flash nodded, too, and much more enthusiastically, with more life in him. “Of course. Anything that makes everybody more comfortable, we’ll do. If it’s hard, we can give you space. That makes sense, right?” He looked to Cadance for confirmation, who nodded. While his boyfriend was speaking, Timber stood up from the coffee table and moved toward the glass door separating them from the pool deck on the balcony.  “Timber?” Twilight asked. “Space sounds good,” Timber told them, smiling again but not in a way that looked at all like his smile should. “I’m gonna go get some air to fill it, okay?”  He left out into the cold. Both Flash and Twilight stood up and tried to go after him, but Cadance stopped the two of them short. “Wait a second. Let’s think about what Timber needs.” Flash balled his hands into fists like he would use his new musculature if it came down to that. “I’m not letting him be alone out there after all that! He needs us!” “I know you want to comfort him, but if talking about his relationships upset him, you might not be who he most wants to see at the moment.” Then, she turned to Sunset Shimmer with a smile. “If you ask me, I think he could use a friend right now.” The infinity pool had summer at a standstill while a glacially roaring wind raged through their bones. An orchestra of biting breezes: whipping whistles and a low, guttural sound ever present beneath it. Sunset pulled her jacket together. If she was cold with frost-bite, she had to imagine Timber must have been eaten alive. Huddled ahead, Timber Spruce leaned on the glass pool deck railing, overlooking the sprawling arctic cityscape. In order to do that, he’d padded across the frozen pool and stood on the ice, which made him appear as if he was floating above the bright teal patterns sunk below the frozen waves. Sunset took a cautious step onto the ice, testing her weight. It held, but she didn’t feel like pushing their luck for long. “Timber,” she said, plodding out to him. “It’s freezing out, come inside.” “I’ve never seen it like this,” he mumbled.  “Yeah, well⁠—” Mid-pool, she let her arms slap down against her sides. “Welcome to winter in the city.” Timber shook his head. “I’ve never seen it all lit up. Look how warm it looks inside all the little windows. Each one of those warm squares belongs to somebody. Even the snow sparkles in the streetlights. It’s really something.” The cold twisted her skin as loose snow shot across the balcony from the top of the next building over. Sunset huffed raggedly and shoved her hands beneath her armpits. “Timber, we have warm windows to look through inside. What the hades are you doing out here? You can’t talk to Twilight like that and leave. She has anxiety. Your boyfriend’s worried. Come on. We’ll figure this out, you know that. Friendship finds a way, it’s cold as hell out here, please can we go inside?” Timber folded his arms on the lip of the railing. “You can go. I still need a minute.” “Why?” The rhythm in her voice sounded laugh-like, but it was a cheap imitation of the real thing. Sunset came up next to him. “Oh, you’re going to stand here brooding like that’s going to make you feel better? Shut the door on everybody?” Timber twisted back at her. “I’m not the one shutting people out!” “Yeah, well, could’ve fooled me.” Sunset gestured around to the balcony they stood on.  Raising his hands as if stopping himself from exploding, Timber breathed, “If I go back inside that apartment right now… look, there’s just—” He raked a hand through his hair. “There’s things I can’t talk about and parts of me I don’t want to be part of me.” He shook his head. “I don’t want you to see me angry. I’m that awesome guy who should always be invited to fun things! That’s me. And if Twilight wants to pull away and take all of you with her then at least I don’t have to drag you down with me. I’m not gonna be the guy who stands in your way!”  Timber braced himself against the railing, shaking his head. “... That’s not me.” Sunset shook her head. “Then be you. We love that dork! Where’s the guy who would fall over himself to crack jokes and make people feel like everything’s going to be okay?” He didn’t answer. At most, the upsettingly cold wind played with his hair. Which left Sunset to try to empathize with a brick wall and she was starting to get frustrated. “Alright. I get it, dude. I get it! You lost the girl and it sucks. I know more than anybody anywhere how much it sucks. Who do you think lost her to you?” Timber turned to look at her, frowning. “You liked her then, too.” She folded her arms like a child in timeout. “Yeah. But obviously, you were perfect.” He watched her expression.  Sunset avoided his eyes and tried to scowl, but couldn’t quite get there. “You two made each other so happy. You were a good guy. Twilight lit up around you. She had this, just, seriously beautiful light in her eyes, like until now she couldn’t believe someone could really love her like that but then, here you were doing it! Any idiot could see it at the crystal ball. You were magic together, of course I’d support that. I realized I’d been falling for her too late to tell her anyway, so...”  She shrugged. She remembered the sting from the last dance better than the breeze eating her skin now. Flash took to the stage to give the Rainbooms a break. He borrowed her guitar. He played a cover of an old song she used to like, Earth Angel. Couples took to the floor, and that left Sunset on the side with the rest of her friends apart from Rarity, who tapped Applejack on the shoulder for a dance. Watching Twilight giggle and light up in Timber’s arms made Sunset smile, and at first, that’s all she let herself do. But as the song went on, it dawned on her. More and more, until Sunset Shimmer knew she had a crush on her best friend and that she couldn’t do anything about it. Timber looked down, mouth pressed together, then nearly smiled at her before turning back towards the skyline. “You’re a good friend.” “No, I’m not,” Sunset muttered.  He raised an eyebrow that drove her insane. “You’re not a good friend? You. You teach the class on friendship.” Sunset scoffed. “Sure. Only by destroying the lives of every ‘student’ in there⁠—who, by the way, never asked to be dragged into my magical bullshit in the first place and you know why anybody in this world has to deal with that? I don’t think about other people.  “It’s amazing! I go through life, charging ahead like my past doesn’t have consequences, and you know, I’m so shortsighted I thought it didn’t! But that’s because it doesn’t have consequences for me anymore.  “But do I see that? No-ho, Celestia no. Tartarus!” She nearly lost her balance on the ice from how violently she brought down her hands from her forehead. “I’m so Celestia damned selfish I don’t even see it anymore. It’s like I’ve got blinders on! Even now we’re out here freezing to death talking about my hang-ups when I should be comforting you. You think I’ve changed? That I’m somehow a good friend because I can be a little nice?” Sunset spread out her arms to gesture around. “My magic lost you your girlfriend, Timber. Still think I’m a good friend?” Shutting his eyes mid-eyeroll, Timber shook his head. “No one blames you for that, but I guess I know you well enough by now to know you’re not going to believe me. All I meant is you let me dance with her that night even though it hurt you and that was cool.” A scoff came out like the pressure release from a soda can. “Tcht. Well… it doesn’t make me a hero not to ruin someone’s night. I’d be a jerk if I didn’t keep encouraging her to go after you.”  Sunset came up beside him to lean on the guard rail, too. The wind bit harder out there, but she could see what he saw. A forest of skyscrapers and hill-like houses sprawling off on all sides. Even in the snow squalls and raining frost, the warmth, the life there, stood up against it all. A whole city together. She had to admit: the view was really something.  “I still felt like a jerk pining after her all that time you were together, but by that point I didn’t do anything because, honestly…” She almost didn’t say it.  Timber nudged her. “What?” Sunset’s teal eyes touched the purple in his, and gently, she told him, “I wanted to hurt you. I still. I still sometimes do.” He blinked. “You didn’t. You don’t.” “But I wanted to, and that’s the scary part.” Arms crossed at the wrists, Sunset let her hands dangle over the 12 storey descent waiting right below. If something were to drop, would the wind freeze it solid on the way down? “You weren’t around when I was at my worst.” “It’s okay. You weren’t when I was at mine. We’re even,” he said, looking down, too, but Sunset couldn’t tell if that was supposed to be a joke. She laughed, but mostly at herself. “Yeah, well, I hurt a lot of people and didn’t care until it all came crashing down around me. Blinders.” Sunset shook her head, eyes wide. “You wanna know the messed up part? I would’ve. If Twilight wasn’t such a good person, I think I would've sabotaged your relationship somehow just so you could feel as cheated and hurt as I did, even if I was really just mad at myself for being stupid enough not to see I liked her sooner. And I didn’t do that, but you know... looks like my magic did in the end anyway. I. I’m sorry.” The fact that Timber currently looked like her best friend in the world only just struck Sunset again, as if for the first time.  Timber laughed, and not exactly the way Twilight really would, but it made Sunset smile. “I wish I had a friend like you.” Sunset had to laugh, too, now, jabbing an elbow into him. “Oh, what? We’re not friends now, either?” The wind whistled between them.  “Oh, no, we are. We’re best friends. For now.” Timber’s eyebrows jerked together. He grimaced like he’d gotten himself hurt on a trail in the middle of the woods, miles from anybody who could help. As tears started to creep up into his eyes, he forced himself to look out at the city ahead. “When you live at a camp, people always leave at the end of the season. That’s the deal. No matter how deep you think you know them—or how deep they think they know you—and no matter how long you want it to last, they have to go. What hurts is how they don’t look back like you do.  “I don’t blame people for getting busy or forgetting to text back. I’m not in their lives much, it’s easy not to notice it’s been months. Or years. It’s like my parents: they’re not trying to leave me behind, so it’s not like I can be mad at them.”  Anger tinged his voice and he sighed it out until none was left. “I’m trying so hard not to see a pattern out of it, but, I know how it goes: everybody leaves at the end of the season.” Timber made himself smile. “So, lucky me, right? I’ll always have another new best friend.” Sunset grimaced. For a long moment there, she searched the snowy treetops and forest of buildings ahead of them for how to convince him that pattern wouldn’t repeat, but like eden roses in a garden, all they were left with was snow fluttering down.  She put an arm around his shoulders, letting it fall solidly to clap him on the back.  “... We should really get you back inside.” A laugh-track mixed into a wooting applause. The sound of a sit-com rose like smoke from the TV in Sunset’s living room. She woke up multiple times through the night, drifting in and out of one unsatisfying sleep to the next to the wicked blurring together of half-hour mischief and mid-season kisses and theme songs about how everybody knows your name and will be there for you. The only interruption, she could blearily make out from the dregs of half-sleep, was the emergency weather system: extreme cold. Winter storm warning. Around 4 a.m., maybe the third time Sunset woke up, Scruffers in her arms, she went to the railing of her bedroom platform. She could see Timber on the couch, shadowed by the blue light hitting his face.  Coming downstairs, she brought the only other blanket in the apartment and sat next to him until they watched sit-coms and the sunrise together. The fact that Canterlot High reopened during the storm meant a harsh, difficult trudge through the tundra their front yard had become. But it also meant Sunset could be with her friends.  Sunset slammed her locker shut. Having a snow day yesterday to recover after their all-nighter sit-com binge didn’t make coming to school now any easier. Her friends appeared to disagree. She hadn’t seen them so chipper since before they swapped bodies. That much, she loved to see.  For once, Fluttershy looked appropriately sugared up for someone inhabiting Pinkie Pie’s body. “Oh, this is all so exciting! And I’m sure you did a wonderful job, Rarity! You’ve checked and rechecked and re-rechecked our every measurement so many times I’ve lost count,” she was saying, then bit her lip. “Would it be okay if we took just a teeny tiny sneak peek?” “Ah, ah, ah, darlings,” Rarity said. She didn’t even bother to hide her accent behind a rough and tumble façade for Rainbow’s sake. “Patience is a virtue. And even if I wanted to spoil the simply spectacular surprise, I can’t. I have our coronation couture for tonight back at the Gala Galleria for safe keeping.” Tonight? Sunset, as usual, cursed internally. She’d almost forgotten.  Twilight raised an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t it be much more convenient to have our outfits here? The portal’s right outside, I assumed we’d just go straight there after school. We don’t want to be tardy, right Timber?”  Sunset could read her girlfriend like the quantum physics textbooks she took from her locker (or well, maybe a bit better than that), but she didn’t need to have foresight to see Twilight was less enthusiastic than the others. Judging by the nervous glances she cast towards Timber, who refused to return her looks, for more reasons than one. He mumbled a non-committal, pouty noise. Rarity tittered. “Yes, well, you know how this school is, dear. Best not to chance these things with magic afoot! All according to plan, all according to plan!” A manic giggle as she rubbed her hands over one and other let on just how likely she thought that would be around here. Around Sunset. “No loose threads in sight! No seams unsteamed!” “Wow, you… really want a nice, normal night, huh?” Sunset rubbed her arm. In hindsight, she felt bad she hadn’t noticed how much Rarity had been freaking out over this. She turned to the others. “Has she been like this the whole time?” “If I have to hear the words haute couture one more time, I’m gonna scream,” Applejack grumbled, an odd sound for Fluttershy’s soft, soothing voice. If Sunset couldn’t find a way to switch them back now…  She watched her friends babbling and laughing about the day to come and her heart twisted in her chest. You dorks deserve to feel this way all the time. Maybe you could without me. If I left for Equestria and closed the portal behind me... It weighed heavy in her chest to think this might be the last time she saw all of them. She wished she had more time, just to spend with them like this. Her favourite dorks. If nothing else, four of them more or less had a get out of class free card. At this point in the semester, there were only so many more classes to wrap up anyway, and besides, all teachers were required to let them out of class for a counselling appointment.  More specifically, Flash decided to go see a counsellor, which left the three of them waiting in chairs outside his office.  “We’re here for support,” Sunset had said to Solstice, to keep his hopes from getting too high. “It’s Flash who wanted the appointment. Nothing to do with us, so you know, no need to mention my name in there.” Solstice nodded, but he looked so exhausted it was hard to tell if he’d gotten the message or not. He patted Flash on the shoulder. “It’s quite brave of you, then. Come along then, son.” Flash waved to them before leaving towards the office. “See you after?” The fogged glass window in the door to the office blurred his figure. Almost enough that Sunset could pretend he was who he was supposed to be with that spiky upturned hair. Not a minute after the two of them left, Twilight, fiddling with her hands, said, “Now are we sure you two don’t want to⁠—” “Yup,” Timber said, not really looking in her direction. “Just here for my boyfriend at this point.”  “Oh. Okay,” Twilight mumbled, and pushed one of his curls behind her ear in a way that made Sunset’s heartburn straight out of her chest.  Sunset couldn’t sit there next to her like that anymore. “Hey⁠—” But, quick-thinking as ever, Twilight beat her to the punch. “Sunset, can, um, can you and I… talk?” The two of them didn’t want to go far—they both did want to be there for Flash when all was said and done. Timber promised he’d wave them down if need be. So the closest room they could go to have space to themselves that wasn’t in use during class was the janitor’s custodial closet.  It worked well enough for two people. Their only company, apart from the rack on the wall of brooms, the dish soap-adjacent smell of industrial cleansers, and plastic shelves stocked with cleaning tools was a garbage bin on a cart, thankfully empty.  Sunset sighed, yanking down the dangling string that turned on the closet’s only light. “Not exactly Le Grand’s…” Hugging herself, Twilight laughed out a sigh, too, but she smiled. “Maybe not, but I did mostly agree to go there to spend time with the girl on my arm.” Sunset smirked back at her. “Okay, point taken, but don’t let me get away with planning all our future dates in the janitor’s closet.” Although… this would be a good rendezvous to make out in… She filed that one away for later. “Someday I’ll take you to see the castle I grew up in. I think you’d like it.” She had to stop herself from calling Twilight her princess and spouting some line about giving her the castle she deserved, and instead rubbed her neck.  Twilight bit her lip. She tucked her hands under her arm tighter and Sunset realized she was doing that so she’d keep her hands to herself. “I know I’m the one who suggested the pause in the first place, a-and I know I’m still not me, but gosh, I miss you.” “Ugggh, same, I miss you too!” Sunset groaned, now restraining her own hands by holding them behind her head, as if via hand-cuff. “I can’t even tell you how bad I’ve been missing you and you’re right freaking here!” “It’s torture,” Twilight agreed, “Medieval magnitudes of torture.” “So medieval.”  Nodding, a fuchsia exploded into Twilight’s cheeks. “And I can’t stop thinking about what we didn’t get to do which makes it even worse!” “Uuugghhh, oh Celestia, babe, seriously, I’m dying here…” “... You probably shouldn’t call me babe on the pause, though,” Twilight murmured. “I know it’s hard. I’ve slipped up pet-names, too, calling you Sunny or sweetheart—which isn’t fair because you still are a sweetheart—and wow, every time you say it now makes me miss you even more, but, um…” Sunset sighed, keeping her hands firmly to herself. “Sorry, I know. You’re right.” Their eyes met in this light that seemed to melt the rest of the world away, but unlike the candles on their table at the restaurant, there was nothing between them but the body of Twilight’s ex-boyfriend to keep them apart.  Huffing, Twilight attacked Sunset in a hug.  Eyes wide, Sunset kept her hands hovering around her. “Uh… Twilight?” “Hugs can be platonic and we hugged when we were only best friends, shush.” The words came out in a big hurry, like they had a train to catch. “I’ve been so worried about you.” Sunset softened, feeling the little drippings of her melted heart fall from her ribcage. She hugged what would normally be Timber Spruce tight to her chest because, after all, this was her best friend. “Sorry to worry you.” “Wow, you’re not doing well. Do you realize you’ve apologized three separate times since we’ve gotten into this closet?” The soft strokes on Sunset’s back made her eyes well up. She hadn’t realized how much she could need a hug from a friend. Twilight remained there, lingering before pulling back to look her in the eye. “You’ve had a really hard week, huh?” Sunset giggled with her, because, well. What else could she do?  The answer to that question, she thought, was to direct the conversation elsewhere. “Are you okay?” Twilight smirked. “I asked you first.” “Damn,” Sunset said.  “That’s how you’re feeling?” she said, and it was clearly meant as a joke but then, Sunset had to stop. “I mean basically yeah. It’s why I’d make a lousy therapy patient anyway,” she told her, even if she knew Twilight wouldn’t really let her get away with that answer. “All my feelings can be summed up with expletives. Damn. Ass. Fucked. Fuck. And some Equestrian swears that wouldn’t make sense out of context. Screaming them out always seemed to work until now.” “Well, I believe you can be more eloquently spoken if you tried,” Twilight offered, then somehow, even despite being in the wrong body, managed to give Sunset the same look that always made Sunset give in when she was being stubborn. “But then, I always believe in you, in whatever you do. I always have.” Sunset forgot the basic blueprints to breathing. But she managed to figure it out moments later. “I know… but maybe you shouldn’t.” She slid down the wall to sit among the chemicals and the rat traps.  Twilight sat down next to her, shaking her head as if she didn’t understand what language Sunset was speaking. “I’m not letting you do this.” Sunset looked at her, guarded by the knees she held in front of her chest. “Do what?” “I know you, Sunset Shimmer,” she said, and Sunset could hear the emotion and urgency boiling, barely lidded. “You’re blaming yourself for everything you possibly can and even more you can’t and you’re about to argue that’s reason enough to exile yourself away from everybody. I’m not letting you sit here and tell me you’re bad for me. Or any of our friends.” “Twilight, look around,” she said, grappling her knees. “Everything catastrophically bad in our lives always comes back to me. That law of trouble-magnetism stuff? That’s just me. You deserve that normal teenage life you wanted with Timber, too. Flash deserves that. The girls deserve that.”  “We deserve our friend,” Twilight countered, keeping her stare trained on Sunset, tears shimmering. That in and of itself burned behind Sunset’s eyes. “What do you think we’d do without you?” “If they have you, everything’s going to be okay. I know you can be what they need. You just have to believe in yourself! That’s how it’s supposed to be. Those five girls are supposed to be friends and they’re supposed to have you to guide them. That’s a universal constant.” “Guide them in doing what? Why do you keep insisting there needs to be a leader at all?” As soon as it clicked, eyes flared wide, Twilight recoiled. “You mean like Princess Twilight?” Sunset rushed to hold up her hands. “I’m saying I need you to take care of the girls. They keep looking at me like they trust me to know what’s best and I don’t. But I do know you could have that normal life again. There’s not much left for me over there, but if I went back to Equestria and closed the portal behind me, I could give you that. I could give you all a second chance like you gave—”  “Sunset?” Twilight said, locking her watering eyes on her girlfriend’s. “I said I wouldn’t trade you for anything in any world, remember? Please remember that.” Sunset took a breath.  Twilight kept her company when she calmed down, both of them drying their eyes. Crying in private with Twilight was still hard for Sunset sometimes, but she was still willing to make that exception.  After a little while, Twilight spoke up again. “Where would you even go?” “In Equestria?”  Twilight nodded. “There’s not an Everton over there, is there?” Sunset sniffle-laughed, rubbing her eyes. “Hadn’t planned that far, babe. You know me.” She noticed Twilight let her get away with that pet-name. Just once. “I don’t know. The Royal Guard could always use more pyromancers, but I don’t know if I could be a good friend to Princess Twilight feeling like I do. I don’t even know where Princess Celestia plans on going now that she’s… retired, I guess. Or if she’d want me along. How could she? Maybe I could ask Timber’s Northway friend about ice-fishing.” That didn’t sound too bad, did it? Yeah… yeah, she could find a cozy cabin somewhere north of the Crystal Empire, in the regions most Equestrian maps labelled as the Unknown. Where else in Equestria would have a purpose for her? Exploring the Unknown and charting uncharted paths didn’t sound half bad (even if she dreaded the cold with a fiery passion and ice-fishing was a big fat no). Twilight must’ve seen something in Sunset that Sunset couldn’t. “You’d really lock yourself away from both worlds?” Sunset kept quiet.  “... well. Leader or not,” Twilight said, and Sunset didn’t like to hear her girlfriend mocking the idea that Twilight could be one, “you know I wouldn’t push if I didn’t have to, but this is exactly the kind of thing you could go to counselling for. You should absolutely talk to our friends about this, and I’m here to listen whenever—even on a pause. But it just—it helps. That’s what professionals are there to do.” Sunset raised an eyebrow. “Is that what you talk about with Principal Celestia?” “Exiling myself to another dimension? Not usually, but I do talk about you.” When she saw Sunset tense up, Twilight’s eyes widened. “Oh! No, no, nothing bad! I talk about how glad I am to have you in my life. What a great support system you are, along with the rest of the girls. And you know, she always agrees.” Sunset hummed. “Huh… nice to hear.” Still doesn’t mean I’m not bad for you all.  Twilight smiled tenderly. “And you know, I did start going to counselling because of you, but it wasn’t because you wrought abject misery and disastrous magic in my life, or even Midnight Sparkle. In fact, it was because you brought so much good I didn’t know how to deal with it all! Friendship, a welcoming new school, multidimensional magic powers, and a girl I really, really liked so much I didn’t know what to do with myself? You changed my life so much in so many incredible ways.” Trying to deny the burning in her cheeks, Sunset’s eyebrows drew together. “Hang on, you must’ve been to counselling before me. Didn’t you get Spike as an emotional support dog?”  “Well, yes, I tried medication and I did get Spike as a therapy puppy, but even that’s been better since having your magic around!” Twilight grinned rather cheekily, almost convincing as Timber Spruce. “You can ask him yourself.” Point Sparkle. Sunset got all huffy and grumbled, “Logos, ethos, and pathos. Why do you have to be so smart?” “Eh. Blessing and a curse,” Twilight told her and shrugged. They both enjoyed the comfort of smiling together, even when Sunset had technically nearly asked to leave forever and never come back. If she did, Sunset thought she’d want to remember moments like this. That much, she could take with her. Maybe Twilight could tell she was still considering it. Sunset was still baffled at how hard it was to hide things from her best friend in the multiverse.  Either way, that was when Twilight took a stand, standing up. She had her hand out for Sunset to take, if she wanted. “You don’t have to do it alone. The appointment might be individual, but I’ll take you there and be waiting for you when you get out. Even if it doesn’t solve our body switch problem.” “I…” For once, Sunset couldn’t bring herself to take Twilight’s hand.  She could see the worry and fear settle in Twilight’s expression. Then, resolve. “If you’re so determined to think I’m destined to be like her⁠, well... Princess Twilight leads by example, doesn’t she?” Sunset watched her leave the closet and got up to stand in the doorway, watching her walk down the hall. Good timing, too.  Solstice came out with Flash⁠—who went over to hug his boyfriend and sit next to him⁠—and welcomed Twilight in with open arms. Twilight spared a look back to Sunset, giving her one last smile before entering the office. Solstice noticed her, too. Any other time, Sunset might have chalked it up to a trick of the light, or her mind playing tricks on her. But she knew him better than that.  Solstice Shiver’s eyes lit supernaturally bright, aflame and instructing her instincts to run before he shut them, and entered the office.