//------------------------------// // Act Two // Story: When They Found Common Ground // by Craine //------------------------------// Pinkie Pie sighed. And, yes, that was usually a bad thing. Pinkie Pie only sighed when something bothered her. And there was a very thin list of things in that category. Frowning friends, burnt pastries, crying Cake-twins, canceled parties, rock-farming... Okay, a formidable list. But that day, none of those things zapped Pinkie’s energy and drew her breath with constant sighs. The utter destruction of two friends’ future together? That did it. She had no energy, no sass, no energy to find the sarsaparilla that would restore that sass. So she just sat there in the kitchen of Sugarcube Corner, staring at all the unused, uncooked ingredients for the order she had to prepare. Pinkie sighed again. She didn’t feel like cooking. She didn’t feel like feeling like cooking. She didn’t feel like laughing or smiling. She didn’t even feel like lifting her ears to the incessant knocks at her door, much less answering them. Just as Pinkie’s chest puffed up for another sigh, a bright purple flash erupted in front of her, and she screeched at the pony that took its place. “Pinkie Pie! Why didn’t you answer the door?!” Twilight shouted. “I’ve turned Ponyville on its head looking for you!” Pinkie raised a brow despite herself. “Really? Why didn’t you check here first?” she asked. “I… Nevermind that!” Twilight said. “You’ve got to come to Carousel Boutique! Now!” Pinkie sighed again. To think Twilight actually found some ingenious way to cheer her up... “Oh…” Pinkie said with a slump to her mane and shoulders. “That…” Twilight clapped her hooves around Pinkie’s face and lifted her to her own hooves. “Yes, that! Sweet Celestia, Pinkie! To this day, I don’t know how in the hoof you know these things, but you were right! Those two ponies are so totally in love, I can’t even…!” Two options lay before Pinkie at that moment. Option one: let Twilight smile, squeal, and pace around the kitchen like a filly on sugar-stix. Option two: place a calming hoof on Twilight’s shoulder, sit her down, and tell her exactly how wrong she was. Pinkie slumped lower. “Twilight. I, uh… I don’t know,” she muttered. If Twilight turned her head to Pinkie any faster, she might’ve snapped her own neck. “What do you mean, ‘I don’t know?!’ Of course you know! You’ve always known, and I was too blind to see it! But you were right, do you understand me?! So very right!” Deep in her chest, Pinkie felt an all-too-familiar tingle. The same tingle that pulled her lips into smiles during the darkest days. The same tingle that reminded her of rainbows above cloudy rock-farms. But in the same breath, Pinkie felt an all-too-familiar twinge. The same twinge she felt when Applejack crushed every hope of seeing two friends happier than they’d ever be. Pinkie was many things; excitable, random, even stubborn. Especially stubborn. But she wasn’t stupid, nor did she cling to something so foolish as Rarity and Applejack being in love with each other. Not anymore. “I was wrong, Twilight.” Everything stopped. The wind whistling through the kitchen window, the preheat-timer on the oven, and, perhaps more importantly, Pinkie’s heart. All of it, frozen beneath Twilight Sparkle’s crazed, cock-eyed glare. “Are you kidding me?” Twilight said. “Are you kidding me?! After all your insistence and all your guilt-tripping, that’s all you have to say?! Pinkie, do you have any idea how much self-respect I lost getting Rarity to spill?!” By now, Pinkie found a thousand more reason to be angry with herself. “I know, I know! I’m sorry, okay? I was just so sure, and I wanted to see them together so much, and I….” Twilight pressed her nose hard against Pinkie’s. “Oh no! There isn’t a snowflake’s chance in Hell you’re getting off that easy!” she declared. “You dragged me into this! You got me invested! You showed me how totally in love our friends are!” Pinkie started shaking on her hooves. “But… But…” “You. Are going to see this through. And you. Are going to like it…” Twilight said through clenched teeth. “Ya got that?” Pinkie’s head sunk between her shoulders and she squealed. “But…” “We go!” Twilight’s horn came to life with a sharp purple glow, and Pinkie clinched her eyes shut. For a long moment, Pinkie kept her eyes shut, fearing the worst for reasons that escaped her. When she slowly grudgingly opened them, Pinkie found herself outside Carousel Boutique, and Twilight, wearing a smile that would make Pinkie jealous on a normal day, sitting beside her. “There. You see that Pinkie?” Twilight said with her forehooves pressed on a familiar window sill. “Totally in love!” To begin with, Pinkie didn’t want to look. She didn’t even want to be there. But her blood froze solid at what Twilight may have done if she said any of that. So Pinkie looked through the window. And suddenly, her very perception was sideways. “Wait a second,” Pinkie said, now much more invested in the two ponies behind that window. “What’s going on here?” Backwards. That’s what it was. Downright, inexplicably backwards. Applejack was clean, absolutely spotless, and completely focused on finishing the white dress she and Rarity worked on the other day. With a hoof to her chin, Applejack observed the dress, scrutinized it. And completely ignored her host. Rarity was a different issue, an issue that sprung Pinkie’s forehooves to the window sill. The unicorn stared at Applejack on occasion, jerking her eyes away when the farmer noticed. She also stood closer to Applejack, closer than usual, and she’d always frown with puffy red cheeks when Applejack distanced herself. “Isn’t that just the cutest thing?” Twilight said with a furious blush. “But… I don’t get it,” Pinkie said. Twilight looked at her friend with a squinty eye. “Hold on. What do you mean?” she asked. “Well, just look at them, Twilight!” Pinkie’s blood started to pump. “Just yesterday, Applejack couldn’t stop smirking, and Rarity was pacing and steaming everywhere! And now…” Twilight returned to the ‘romantic’ spectacle with narrowed eyes. “You know? Now that you mention it…” Rarity seemed almost desperate for Applejack’s attention. She walked in front of the farmer whenever she was ignored for too long, she’d constantly try to establish eye-contact, and she flashed an occasional smile. She even brushed her tail along Applejack’s side much too slowly to be accidental. More than once, even. How did Applejack respond? With a few glares and the cold shoulder. Pinkie gave long loud gasp. “Twilight! You said you spoke to Rarity yesterday?” she asked, her voice pitched too high for even her own ears. Twilight raised an eyebrow at Pinkie and nodded. “I caught her on her way to the Spa. At first I thought I’d just enjoy a little R&R. But I thought about what you said and… I just had to know what Rarity thought of Applejack,” she said. Pinkie gulped. “What did she say?” “Oh you should have seen her, Pinkie!” Twilight said with enthusiasm the pink pony wanted so much to share. “She kept calling her dirty, and rude, and all sorts of names, and she blushed every time I mentioned how helpful she was and… and she just got so flustered, how could she not be in love?!” Pinkie gulped harder. “And… And you?” Twilight scoffed. “Are you kidding? There was only one thing to say. I straight told her she was in love is what I did! Oh, she turned so red, I thought her nose would bleed!” Twilight’s smile grew impossibly large. “Right then—right when she jumped out of that hot tub and ran from the spa, soaking wet—I just knew it!” Twilight clapped her hooves and squealed so sharply, Pinkie’s ears caved. And Pinkie was not amused. Pinkie had failed. Failed! She couldn’t hold up her end of the deal, she couldn’t make Applejack see the light, as Twilight obviously had for Rarity. She couldn’t fulfil her promise to see two friends realize something more precious than the shiniest diamond in Canterlot. The wide-eyed anticipation melted clean off of Pinkie’s face. And in its place, there was only pure. Unrestrained. Terror. “Oh, no...” ********** As the toughest, most dependable pony in all of Ponyville, Applejack’s patience rivaled that of Princess Celestia herself. In fact, she prided herself on such a trait, coupled with her honest down-to-earth nature. She was a solid, focused, dedicated mare that saw passed problems and found only solutions. A pony that, for better or worse, was Ponyville’s rock. Or, more specifically, Rarity’s rock. Applejack’s dedication had its merits, to be sure. One, of which, was spending an extended period of time with a total priss. After nine hours of farm work. Being choked by perfume and fruity shampoo. At first, the idea scared Applejack to death, and more than once, she thought she’d regret ever agreeing to help Rarity with her fashion-crisis. Applejack was a formidable pony, yes, but she couldn’t stitch a dress to save her life. Did that stop her from inspiring Rarity to press forward and create? Did that stop her from tapping deep into alien memories, memories from a destiny she wasn’t meant to have, and giving solid tangible advice about ‘Country’ wear? If it had, Applejack wouldn’t’ve been there that day. She wouldn’t’ve saw to it that Rarity never gave up, or visited her every day to keep her afloat, to be there for her. Once, ‘being there’ for Rarity was just an extra chore. But over time, it taught Applejack ways around Rarity’s fussiness. Though more harsh and demanding than she used to be, Rarity’s company became a regular necessity. An ear-grating whine or a useless complaint became more than just an annoyance; it told Applejack that all was right in the world, and that Rarity would make it through those trying times. As days turned to weeks, Applejack grew fond of the whining and complaining. So fond, that Applejack began provoking it with quips, teases about her old designs, and ‘forgetting’ to shower before leaving the farm. And the resulting flank-chew always, always brought a smile to Applejack’s face. A smile that, over time, became a perpetual smirk. Any other day afterwards, this wouldn’t change. Applejack would watch in wonder as Rarity constructed their vision into masterpieces of thread, cotton, and jewels. Applejack would snort whenever Rarity dropped something, or sewed a seam too loose, and would smirk whenever Rarity yelled at her for it. Applejack would simply love being with Rarity. “Why aren’t you looking at me, you clueless oaf?!” Today was not one of those days. In fact, that day was far beyond Applejack’s comfort zone. Ever since her ‘discussion’ with Pinkie Pie, Applejack had been reluctant to show up at Carousel Boutique to begin with. Rarity distracting her with eye-flutters, tail-swipes, unnecessary nuzzles, and a sway in the step much too perfect to be unrehearsed, wasn’t helping matters. It was all so very stupid. So stupid how, in one swoop, Pinkie managed to turn a regular necessity into a declaration of love. For that, Applejack didn’t smirk, Applejack didn’t speak, and Applejack didn’t ‘forget’ to shower before leaving the farm. And throughout that entire ordeal, Applejack didn’t look at Rarity for more than two seconds, much more inclined to focus on the reason she was there in the first place. “Stop ignoring me!” Rarity shouted from behind a frowning Applejack. As Applejack’s jaw clenched, she felt something inside her crack like frozen water. A cold spike of fear stabbed at her heart when she felt her patience fizzle out. The farmer's ears flicked at Rarity’s stomping hoof. “I swear! If you aren’t the most insufferable pony I’ve ever met!” Rarity shouted again. “Why must you make things so hard for me!” That was the last straw. Before she could stop herself, or even care, for that matter, Applejack spun to Rarity with a glare that could wither trees and dry lakes. “Y’all serious, right now?!” Applejack bit back. “After everythin’ I’ve put up with the last 24 hours, I’m makin’ things hard?!” “What you’ve put up with?!” Rarity replied with an accusing hoof. “You’re the one who started this whole thing!” Rarity stomped again and started pacing. “Just who do you think you are, Applejack?! Toying with me the way you do?!” Some small part in Applejack's head, the part that rationalized stupidity, wanted to see Rarity’s behavior as simple ramblings of a frustrated unicorn with bottled anger, that this was just her blowing off steam. There was a reason Applejack ignored that part of her psyche. “That’s what this is about?!” Applejack demanded. “For all the times I’ve poked fun at ya before, ya never—” “Oh you would want me to believe that, wouldn’t you?!” Rarity interjected, her cheeks reddening. “That you’ve been innocent this whole time! That this wasn’t all part of your plan to begin with!” The accusation, like any Applejack had experienced, was like a knife to the chest. And despite her growing rage, Applejack felt the same hurt that came with any accusation. Especially now that it came from Rarity. “Plan? What fuzzy-brain nonsense are y—” “Well! It’s not going to work!” Rarity declared with a lifted nose and her flank turned to her guest. “I’m on to you and your two lackeys, Applejack.” Applejack just stood there, slack-jawed. And if she hadn’t known all the terrible things she could do with a needle and thread before, Rarity’s challenging smirk made her painfully aware. “What’s the matter, darling?” Rarity said as she looked over her shoulder. “Caught in the act?” Applejack’s eyes hit the floor, searching for answers to questions that hit her like a speeding train. The farmer looked back up to Rarity with narrowed eyes. “Have you been talkin’ to Pinkie Pie?” “Ah-HAH!” Rarity whirled around to face Applejack. “So you admit it!” Applejack threw her hooves to her mane. “Admit what?! I don’t even know where this came from!” she shouted. “First, Pinkie’s runnin’ to the farm askin’ how we fell ‘totally in love’, and now here you are, teasin’ and flirtin’!” Despite Applejack’s heaving breaths, she saw the confidence ebb away from Rarity’s face. “She… Pinkie did what?” Rarity asked with a dainty hoof over her lips. “It was like fightin’ a lion with a twig, Rarity. She just wouldn’t shut up about it!” Applejack said. For a fraction of a second, Rarity’s mask broke completely, but she restacked it and desperately clung to her challenging attitude. “Oh? A-and what did you say to our dear party-planner, hmmm?” “Oh, no! I ain’t tellin’ ya nothin’ else, ‘till y’all explain why you’ve been actin’ so dagum flirty!” The second Applejack saw that soft white face go red, she smelt blood in the water. And only the earth pony’s kind nature kept her from prying Rarity’s defenses away. Then Rarity lifted her chin with a ‘hmph!’ “I hardly think that’s any of your business,” Rarity said. Finally, whatever benevolent spirit that had kept a lid on Applejack’s temper, against all odds, abandoned her. “Any o’ my… Oh, that’s it. That's it!” Applejack was well aware of her volume, and how it resounded amidst the workroom and even the hallways. She was also aware that Rarity yelped and jumped back. But she didn’t care anymore. “It’s bad enough y’all accuse me of lyin’ and schemin’! But now—oh now—ya don’t wanna tell me why you! Are messin’ with me?!” Again, Rarity lifted a shaky hoof to her lips, paralyzed by fiery emerald-green eyes. “Applejack, I—” “Forget it, Rarity!” Applejack said, barging passed the unicorn. “I don’t gotta take this! I’ve got enough on my plate without highfalutin ungrateful ponies who wouldn’t know a good friend if they showed up everyday to help ‘em!” Applejack didn’t care about Rarity’s desperate grimace. She didn’t care how rough she may have barged passed the unicorn to get to the exit. She didn’t care that she’d only spent an hour there, or that their current project remained untouched since her arrival. “A-Applejack, wait! I’m…” Applejack ignored her. It was all she could do to keep from looking at her, to keep her anger at a simmer before it full-on boiled, to keep ‘yelling’ from escalating into something much worse. As she approached the door, Applejack couldn’t remember the last time she wanted to leave Carousel Boutique so badly. But when something yanked at her backside and stopped her in her tracks, Applejack’s every thought focused on how badly she could hurt the unicorn biting her tail. Applejack looked back... and all anger fell out of her like the tears that fell from Rarity’s eyes. Rarity let Applejack’s tail fall from her mouth, her watery eyes falling to her hooves. Clearly, Rarity had not meant to do that, as the furious blush would suggest. But her next words nearly broke Applejack’s heart. “Please don’t go?” Rarity begged, her tears falling harder. “Those horrible things I said... I didn’t mean a word of it.” Applejack wanted to call Rarity a liar, to say that no amount of hard cider could convince her otherwise. Perhaps, if Rarity hadn’t clamoured for her attention earlier, Applejack would've believe her, she might've even dried those tears. Instead, she just turned completely to her friend and listened. Waiting. No frown. No threatening glare. “I… I thought you were courting me.” The moment those words reached her ears, Applejack opened her mouth with a deep breath and stern look. “Please, Applejack!” Rarity interrupted. “Do you want to know the reasons for my behavior, or not?” Applejack shut her mouth, and Rarity scraped a hoof on the carpet. “It never occurred to me before, really. But…” Rarity took a leap of faith and looked her fellow mare in the eye. “When Twilight joined me at the spa yesterday…” Applejack’s ears jerked up, but she squashed the urge to unleash the questions roaring in her skull. Rarity’s eyes fell to her hooves again. “She kept asking me all these questions, like why you helped me everyday. She implied the most absurd things, like why we spent so much time together. She even went so far as to say I was—” “Totally in love?” “—totally in...” Rarity shot a raised brow to Applejack. “Ah, yes… Pinkie Pie.” Applejack nodded and remained silent. Rarity sighed sharply and looked like she swallowed a snail. "I was flirting with you because I thought you were scheming with our friends. I thought you believed I… ‘owed’ you for all your help.” As Rarity spoke, her voice slowly descended to a whisper, then to a squeak. “I wanted to toy with you, to make you weak at the knees, to make you embarrassingly attached to me. Then I’d…” “Y’all thought I was takin’ advantage of ya.” That wasn’t a question, or a suggestion. And Applejack couldn’t suppress her frown. “Like a common crook.” “That’s not fair!” Rarity bit back. “With all your teasing, and prodding, and smirking, and… What was I supposed to think, Applejack?!” Applejack scoffed. “Gee, I don’t know, Sugarcube. Reckon, ‘somepony that helped ya out because she cares too much,’ might’ve crossed the mind! But I guess that wasn’t clear enough for ya!” Rarity’s face turned a shade of red that Applejack didn’t know existed. “Of course it wasn’t clear! Nothing with you is clear anymore! You have no idea what you do to me each day!” Before long, Rarity started pacing again. “I stare when I don’t mean to, I want to ignore you when all I do is listen, I say ‘leave’ when I mean ‘stay’! Nothing makes sense anymore, and it’s all your fault, Applejack!” Right then and there, with her anger once again beating in her veins, Applejack attacked the root of the problem. “Darnit, Rarity, listen to me! I don't lo—” Even as Applejack pursed her lips shut, she knew she couldn’t change what she’d said, and she watched Rarity gasp as something like glass broke behind those deep cerulean eyes. “I… I’m not in love with you,” Applejack said, much quieter than she’d meant to. Rarity’s shoulders slumped a bit, their muscles receding behind her coat. “I know that now… Applejack,” she muttered. Applejack kept from lifting a hoof over her lurching heart, fully comprehending the damage she had done. Then Applejack saw those tears welling in Rarity’s eyes again, and the farmer couldn’t think anymore. “Rarity, I…” This time, Applejack’s eyes searched the floor. “I-it ain’t like I haven’t thought about at times. It’s just—” Applejack’s eyes shot straight up when those words played back in her head. “No. I meant…” Rarity approached her friend, careful and slow, rummaging through those green eyes with her own. Applejack noticed, but was too shocked by her own stupidity to move away. “I don’t know what I meant.” Applejack frowned so hard, her forehead twinged. “I shouldn’t have even said that, consarnit!” “Then why did you?” The question seemed no better than an accusation. But when Applejack looked back up at those pleading desperate eyes, she didn’t feel the same stab in the chest like before. No. She felt nothing but cold hard fear. “I don’t know!” Applejack shouted by accident. “This is what happens when I hear ponies talk, Rarity! Even worse, when I listen to ‘em! All that gunk about us bein’ a thing; it’s all a bunch o’ hooey, and yet…” Rarity stepped closer, and still, Applejack couldn’t move. “Yet?” Rarity whispered. “This is stupid! Y’all got me so confuzzled right now, I don’t even remember my name!” If Applejack were a lesser pony, she’d have punched herself in the face. “We shouldn’t be talkin’ about this! We should be lookin’ at this stupid dress, fixin’ it up for your stupid client, so I can get outta this stupid, stupid shop!” Applejack couldn’t tell when she started pacing. She couldn’t tell when she started shaking, or even how hard she was breathing. Her only priority, at that moment, was vanquishing the thoughts that shouldn’t have existed at all. Thoughts of visiting Carousel Boutique for more than making dresses. Thoughts of smirking when Rarity walked a certain way. Thoughts of proving all those gossiping ponies so terribly right. Applejack marched toward the unfinished dress, no longer certain what she was looking for. “I’ll stay, Rarity. But I… I can’t talk about this no more. Alright?” When Applejack heard only silence, she dared to be relieved, dared to think the fashionista shared her sentiments and would join her in silence. “Would it really be so bad, Applejack?” Applejack stopped breathing. In fact, the only thing that may have actually functioned was her heart. No. No, that stopped as well. But when Rarity’s hoof-steps clattered to her, closer and closer, Applejack’s heart broke olympic track records. “Are you so against the idea, you’d never give it a chance,” Rarity asked, her voice eerily low, “would never consider it, even for moment?” “Guh. Rarity.” “Or… Or maybe,” Rarity’s voice squeaked out again, “maybe I’ve been such a selfish undeserving wench—maybe I’ve treated you so terribly after everything you’ve done—that you could never...” Applejack whirled around, now muzzle-to-muzzle with her host. “I didn’t say that!” she said. Both mares paused. Even long after Applejack uttered those words, she still couldn’t believe them. Rarity, though clearly taken back, silently, eagerly, urged her guest to elaborate. But AJ didn’t. Instead, her ears flattened as Rarity’s breath coated her lips. Over, and over, and over again. Applejack could have easily pulled away, could’ve just as easily returned to that stupid dress and ignored the unicorn the rest of the afternoon. She did neither of those. She just stood there, cursing the burn on her cheeks, the sandy lump in her throat, the deepening pit in her stomach, and the haze in her eye. Then Rarity blush, and Rarity’s ears flattened. That was it; the biggest red flag in the history of all red flags slapped Applejack harder than anypony could. “Rarity…” “Applejack…” “I’m not in love with you.” “Nor am I, with you.” There. The grounds were set. Neither mare was in love with the other. It was stupid, a poisonous illusion cast by ‘the talk of the town,’ and two underhanded friends that needed a talking-to. Did knowing this guide their muzzles apart? No. “Then what are we doin’?” Applejack asked, her eyelids halving. “What’s happenin’ right now?” Rarity tilted her head ever so slightly, and Applejack found herself doing the same. “I… I don’t know. It just feels… so…” The Grandfather Clock went off. With sharp breaths, both mares twitched away from each other by mere inches. They looked at the time; 4:00pm. “Day's almost up,” Applejack muttered flatly. “Quite,” Rarity replied with equal enthusiasm. Applejack closed her eyes and turned away, once again facing the unfinished dress. “We should, uh… probably finish this dress before tonight,” she said. Rarity stepped forward, standing beside the farmer in silence. “Rarity?” The unicorn’s eyes darted to Applejack. “Yes?” “This never happened.” “What never happened?” “Exactly.” Progress. Progress at last. Finally, with Rarity’s swift sketches, and Applejack’s critical eye, the farmer and the fashionista produced the finishing touches to that daunting white dress. To an outsider, it would seem perfectly average for the two; Rarity snipped and threaded with her items levitated around her, and Applejack stopped her when a shape was too extravagant, or encouraged her when a ribbon was duly needed. But it wasn’t perfectly average. Perfectly average wasn’t silent with shamefully red blushes. Perfectly average wasn’t apologizing for an accidental brush of the tail, or hoof-to-hoof contact, or stares that may have lasted a little too long. There were even times when Rarity messed up, and Applejack teased her about it. Times when Rarity yelled at Applejack for being a thoughtless beast that laughed at greatness in the making, and Applejack smirked at her. And there was a time Rarity got so flustered, she demanded Applejack to leave, then magically locked the door shut when Applejack tried to. Only when they finally finished, after the thousandth cut thread, and the thousandth redone ruffle, and the thousandth debate on getting Applejack to fit the damn thing, Rarity and her partner in crime sat side by side. “So…” Applejack said, slinging the measuring tape off her neck. “Fluer De Lis, huh?” Rarity nodded. “I couldn’t ask for a better client,” she said with a growing smile. “The payment she offered would… It’s the biggest break I’ve had in months.” Rarity’s smile waned as she looked uncertainly at the dress. “Erm, assuming she likes it, of course.” Applejack scoffed. “Y’all know I was never one for those kind o’ clothes. Or… clothes, in general, really, but If I think the dress has style, I doubt any uptight nose-in-the-air Canterlot pony would disagree.” Though Rarity turned away from her, Applejack was more than certain the unicorn blushed at the praise. “Yes, well,” Rarity regained herself, “I hope she enjoys it for what it’s worth. The dress suits you far better, I think.” Applejack didn’t answer, and somehow, she knew Rarity was okay with that. Maybe Rarity was aware of the heat on Applejack’s face as well. The farmer took a tired glance at the dimming twilit sky from behind a nearby window. “Huh.” she said. “Stayed a little later than I thought.” Rarity brought a hoof to a loose curl in her mane, and twirled it. “Yes. Yes, you did.” “And I suppose you’ll be sendin’ that dress tomorrow.” Applejack turned her head toward Rarity. “Y’all won’t be needin’ me no more. Not until your next client, anyway.” Rarity tugged her curly strand down her neck. “Indeed. There… wouldn’t be much point in your coming here after tonight, would there?” Applejack shifted on her hooves. “Nope. Reckon there wouldn’t be.” Silence. Hours ago, that silence may have been a hair more tolerable. But not that time. Not when they were so close, not after everything that happened that day. Rarity gave her curl a final tug, and it snapped back in place, unstranded wild. “You… are coming by tomorrow afternoon,” Rarity shimmied closer to the earth pony, her half-lidded eyes locking onto her friend’s, “aren’t you, Applejack?” Somehow, Applejack managed a smile and said, “Same time as always.” She laughed a little. “Yeah.” The next thing Applejack realized, even before she realized the arms flung around her neck, or another face entirely too close to hers, a thin trail of saliva stretched between Rarity’s lips and her own. “Good.” Rarity grinned at the sputtering mare, and lifted her muzzle to Applejack’s twitching ear. “Sleep well, darling,” she whispered. Only when Rarity unbarred herself did Applejack remember how to talk. “Y-yeah. Same to you.” Rarity turned and walked away from Applejack. And still the farmer’s hooves were grounded in place. She could only stand there and watch; the sway in Rarity’s step, the bounce of Rarity’s mane, the piece of her soul Rarity took with her. Rarity turned back with a faint blush. “Well? Off with you then,” Rarity said with a shooing hoof. “You need your rest to finish your chores tomorrow.” Applejack sputtered back to attention. “Uh, right! Yeah, I’ll just… be on my way.” Finally, Applejack tore her eyes away from that soft white backside, walked toward the door, opened it, and snatched her Stetson from the coat rack. Then, with every memory of what happened that day, only one word resounded in Applejack’s head. Coward. She stopped. She wanted to leave. She wanted to spend time away from Rarity. She wanted to work her farm and sell her apples and think she didn’t love what Rarity did to her. Because she was afraid. Afraid of Rarity. Afraid of what may have sparked between them. Afraid of the common ground that brought them closer than Applejack ever thought possible. Why? What reason could she possibly have? What horrible unspeakable thing could possibly happen if Applejack just… accepted it? The thought kept her hooves still and her breath shallow. And it was totally outrageous. Earth ponies from many ages passed thought that sharing their seeds and crops with other tribes would starve them and their children. They did it anyway. The founders of Equestria thought hatred would root and grow again if they united the three tribes. They did it anyway. Princess Celestia knew she’d be burdened with the weight of an entire kingdom for generations if she banished her sister to the moon. She did it anyway. Five crazy ponies had no idea what terrible unfathomable danger awaited them if they joined Twilight Sparkle to find the Elements of Harmony. They did it anyway. Rarity could’ve been yelled at, insulted, or even struck in the face for kissing Applejack the way she had that day. She did it anyway. And now, Applejack was afraid that if she turned around, kicked that door shut, bounded across Carousel Boutique, tackled Rarity down, bent her over a table and did unspeakable things to her, she’d ruin the closest friendship she’s ever had. Applejack smiled. But only because following her ancestors’ example was shameless and ironic. Not because she was in love, because Applejack Apple was definitely undeniably not in love. Not really. Not totally. She tossed her hat back on the rack.