//------------------------------// // Chapter 3 // Story: The End of an Old Day // by Satsuma //------------------------------// The two young boys sidled up to Sunset, who fixed her attention on the slowly growing brick wall, pretending not to notice them. And thinking. She hadn't expected them to finish so soon, but then again, she hadn't expected the other five of Twilight Sparkle's lackeys to show up and help. They'd joined the small group a few minutes after Flash had, some of them shooting distrustful, furtive glances at her. In that instance, Sunset wasn't sure whether she was more embarrassed that she might actually need their help, or that she hadn't immediately tried to reject it. How weak I've grown, she thought gloomily, before returning to the topic at hand: Snips' and Snails' dismissal. They stood for awhile. Snips stuck his hands in his pockets and his chubby cheeks clenched in agitation. Snails turned his short-lived attention to the darkened surroundings. The next major consideration was that the portion of wall they had spent the last two hours or so repairing, was in truth less than a fifth of the damage that they had caused on their own. Out of the corner of her eye, she checked the other damages. All large, oblong blotches, with the angular edges of bricks remaining where others had remained. They would be even harder to work on than the one they'd already completed. And truth be told, she didn't have the heart to tell them. It was all very unusual behavior for her. "Uh....Miss Sparkle," Snips ventured, then flinched and raised a hand in defense as Sunset rose to her feet and stretched out her back. "Well, it seems that you've actually remembered something I told you," Sunset said with casual blandness, pretending to survey the portion which had been repaired. All too quickly, she remarked, "It also seems that you boys are done! Alright, why don't you two head home?" Not convincing at all, but she was too tired to care. No need to be that convincing where those two were involved anyway. "Goodnight, boys," she said with finality, indicating that the conversation was over, and turned away from them.... ....Just in time to notice Rainbow Dash. Apparently, even she wasn't so dense, as to not notice the glaringly large amount of work that the boys were still supposed to complete. Sunset's heart sank and she wished that she'd at least tried to be more convincing. Rainbow had already taken a protesting gasp of air before Applejack flicked a lump of wet concrete at her cheek. "Be nice!" she said, so softly that Sunset barely heard it. "Sunset's probably tryin' harder than you are!" She hadn't expected that hillbilly spawn to be anywhere near that perceptive, but she was certainly appreciative of the gesture. It had certainly shut that equally blunt sportswoman up. Not enough to let it show in her eyes, but enough to offer a small nod. Snips and Snails had, naturally, missed the whole subtle exchange. It would probably be kinder that they did, or they would only end up thoroughly confused. They said their goodbyes, and received a few half-hearted ones in reply. The fact that they were part of Sunset's original plan seemed to have slipped their minds entirely. She envied them greatly. It looked as if they were never hear. She'd finish repairing the walls and make it so. When had she ever been this kind before? She looked up and sighted Coco by chance. The association of thought and sight, and the time of night, incited a tangible physical shiver at the mental and physical discomfort. Enough time passed for the two boys to be out of earshot, when the white one (Rarity, she thought), approached her and draped a thin shawl around her shoulders. Not expecting the unprecedented gesture of kindness, she reached up abruptly, and received yet another surprise; a firm, reassuring squeeze. For a moment, her memory evoked her first encounter with Flash and she nearly fell over in stiff-legged surprise. "That was awfully kind of you, darling," the white one said, with a gentle smile. When Sunset failed to respond, she added, "letting the boys leave, I mean." She looked mildly worried when more silence ensued. "Oh....right," Sunset replied simply, after finally regaining her presence of mind. Coco quietly stood up, dusted her knees, and stretched out her back, then joined Sunset and Flash at the most heavily damaged portion of all. Months Earlier That lesson came and went. Sunset and Coco spent an hour and a half in total, at the end of the day, poring over their books and trying to find out what had actually been taught. When Flash heard of this, he suppressed a laugh that would not have been altogether unkind. Just chiding. Sunset saw the humour in the situation but didn't share his enthusiasm in appreciation. Coco was new, and it was expected that she would take time to acclimatize, but Sunset had no reason whatsoever to lag behind a class that was usually in her wake. No reason that could be openly discussed anyway. She didn't know what to be more embarrassed about, the fact that her prowess seemed hobbled, or the reason that it was indeed so. Her face reddened at the thought that she'd been placing most of her attention on Flash. There were many reasons for this. Many reasons that she could think of, anyway. This was a subject for observation that had just impressed its--his--importance on herself, one that until recently did not warrant any attention at all. Close observation could be a natural reflex on her part to make up for lost time, so to speak. It wouldn't make sense, though, because none of that alleged time had been lost. Unless, of course, it was time that meant something to her. It would certainly elicit such a response on her part. Why the time would be so precious....she did not know. Maybe it was because of the affinity they shared. She was reminded, by a sudden rush of warmth at the thought, of its previously untested potency. 'Yes, that's got to be it,' she told herself. Flash, on his own part, had to fight hard not to desert his previous group of friends (which he caught himself thinking of almost as an entourage now), with reckless abandon. He suddenly found their friendships to be surprisingly shallow, though most were undoubtedly true. He didn't kid himself into thinking that all his friends could achieve such a level of understanding as he was sure he and Sunset had, now. In fact, he felt somewhat guilty at his newfound compulsions. Perhaps it was natural to seek out bonds that ran deeper than normal, but it did not equate to abandoning one's friends. He loved them all in their own right, and some of them had stuck with him through real ordeals. Truth be told, he was just as excited as Sunset was at the prospect that had been presented to him; another individual with very similar experiences and very similar responses, though he hadn't considered it to the extent that Sunset's meta-cognition had allowed her to. He simply circumvented the entire process to arrive at the same solution. His sister had once remarked snarkily that he had his emotions turned up louder as his bass. He had ignored that in favour of exercising his own sense of freedom. It came to pass in a span of weeks, that Sunset and Flash started spending increasing amounts of their time in each other's company. Little things like eating at the same table during recess. When their timetables intersected, that is. Or grabbing lunch together sporadically, when their after-school activities (and Sunset had quite a few new ones now) didn't clash. Throughout these sporadic occurrences, some others were always present. Several members of Flash's social circle were quick to take notice of Sunset, and she was soon acquainted with a few of the friendlier individuals. The rest smirked or looked upon her with some derision. A few of the girls were jealous. Those were the ones Sunset quietly marked as delusional, insensible and possessive. She, in turn, disclosed this only to the omnipresent Coco Pommel, who went almost everywhere with Sunset when she could afford to. Sunset welcomed the company with a certain glee of her own. This persisted long after the first awkward introductory fortnight when they'd both let out a few expeditionary threads into the student population. Coco quickly got herself enmeshed in the drama club's need for props. They lost a few of the usual afternoons together, but Sunset felt nothing but joy on her behalf. Perhaps--hopefully--it would be a fine transition for Coco. ....Yet on some days, it was as if she were alone again. All the new considerations tended to disappear when they were not right in front of her, and she remember how she was thrown by her own over-vaulting ambition into somewhere completely alien. It did not seem that bad now. The little quirks and dissimilarities between this world and the last seemed finally within reach, and the tirade of voices in her head--self-pity, longing, deprecation--had reduced themselves to silence. What was left was a contemplative quietude that Sunset was not altogether comfortable, because it seemed that something was still missing. It was far better than the known alternative. As she waited at the bus-stop, the same consolidation of thoughts that had been through her mind a hundred times began to repeat itself. Coco was fitting in well. She seemed to see many more friendly faces (they had stopped looking the indistinguishable, anyway). Especially Flash. Also, she'd finally gotten around to signing herself up for something. It'd also....left her feeling a little empty sometimes in contrast to the sudden rush. She would repeat it again several times to herself, because it all seemed to different from before, and because it filled the internal vacuum. When that got boring, she reminded herself for the umpteenth time that she was taking another bus today. The one going downtown, because she needed to make a purchase. Lately, there'd been things on her mind that she would have liked to-- "Fancy seeing you here," Flash said, leaning back on the railing, beside her. She smiled, but didn't turn to him, instead, taking a few moments to blink, clear her mind, sweep a lock of hair behind an ear....a familiar pattern now. "Speak for yourself," she replied wryly when she was done. "I thought you had practice today." He shrugged, sighed and stated flatly, "I forgot to bring my bass." Sunset tutted sardonically. "Bummer." "Yeah, stupid mistake," he admitted easily to the torment, then added, "But I probably wasn't gonna turn up either." "Why?" He shrugged again. Sunset noticed that he did that a lot. "Just not my day I guess." 'Wonder what that's all about?' The thoughts nearly left her mouth when the squeal of old brakes and pneumatic doors attracted her attention. A quick check of the bus' route number confirmed that this one was her's. 'Darn it.' "Sorry, Flash, but I gotta get going," she said, adding a gentle pat on his arm. "We'll talk tomorrow?" she ventured, half-promise and half-inquiry. "Alright, tomorrow," he promised, putting a hand over his eyes and massaging his temples. He didn't look alright. The doors hissed close before she could say goodbye. She tried to put it out of mind, but the abruptness of their parting had only served to make the last few minutes even clearer than before. She absent-mindedly paid her fare and found a seat. Before she had a chance to scoot over to the windows, though, the bus braked and she bumped her forehead on her knuckles. Had she been any slower, the bus' sudden braking would have thrown her to the ground. She resisted the urge swear at the driver, gritting her teeth and rubbing the sore spot where her shoulder had glanced off the window sill. The doors hissed again, and Flash dragged himself up the bus by the handrails, panting and apologizing profusely to nobody in particular. He stumbled down the aisle to Sunset, sat down beside her, and caught his breath. She was trying not to laugh. He turned a solemn gaze, almost scowling at her. "Nobody hears a word of this, hear me?" She nodded. "Good." He took a few more deep breaths. "It's just that we usually get on different buses."