//------------------------------//
// The Sunrise Sonata, Part 7 
// Story: The Evening Sonata 
// by Daniel-Gleebits 
//------------------------------//

The Sunrise Sonata Pt7


Sunset Shimmer

As might be expected, Sunset awoke the next morning nurturing a ball of regret in her stomach. Slightly to her surprise, she found that Sonata’s arm was still around her, and for once she was breathing rhythmically rather than snoring. Her breath was warm on Sunset’s back, and Sunset honestly found her proximity so comforting that she was tempted to remain in bed, snuggled up to her. But she couldn’t. They both had work to do.
Carefully unwinding Sonata’s arm from around her middle, she sat up and pushed the hair out of her face. She paused a moment to look down at Sonata, the flood of uncertainty and doubt returning to her. But something was different about it. It no longer seemed to have teeth; it no longer gnawed at her as it had before. A natural smile spreading over her face, she leaned down and kissed Sonata’s cheek.
“Thank you,” she whispered, standing up. Stretching her arms over her head, she headed out to make breakfast.
As usual, the smell of cooking food soon drew Sonata from her slumber. She entered the kitchen area yawning, pulling at one shoulder as though it were stiff.
“I smell bacon,” she sang.
“Really?” Sunset smirked, flipping several strips over in the frying pan. “I can’t imagine why.” 
“Smarty pants,” Sonata chided, poking her in the upper arm.
Sunset watched Sonata skip into the living room, and pick up two paintbrushes, one in each hand as though she were going to start painting two things at once. Then she started laughing as Sonata did indeed try to start painting two things at the same time.
“You’re good,” Sunset chuckled. “But I don’t think there are many people who are that good.”
“There aren’t many people who would try,” Sonata said, as though she were an exploring captain on her maiden voyage into unknown seas. Sunset cracked up a little more at that.
“Well you’ll need your energy first. Come get your bacon. Want some eggs?”
“Silly Shimmy,” Sonata teased. Sunset felt a tingle as she said it. “I want so many eggs that I’ll be sick.”
“You’ll get two,” Sunset told her. “You’re certainly in a good mood today.”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” she asked joyously, throwing her arms around Sunset’s shoulders. “I had the best sleep ever!”
“It couldn’t have been that good,” Sunset chuckled, sliding the bacon onto a plate.
“Naw, come on,” Sonata gave her a little shake. “Are you still sad about your thing that you won’t tell me about?”
Sunset considered. She’d not really understood why she had felt so miserable yesterday. She knew the why, but didn’t comprehend it. Nonetheless, it seemed to have diminished now. She smiled.
“No,” she said, honestly. “I probably shouldn’t have...” she shook her head. “No, I’m not sad anymore. Thanks for keeping me company, you know.”
This seemed to make Sonata much happier. She gave a squeak of delight, seized her bacon and danced into the living room where she promptly leapt onto the couch and switched the TV on.
“You’re welcome,” she said, smiling sweetly over her shoulder. “And thank you, oh breakfast goddess. Please bestow upon my thy divine circles of eggy yummy-ness!”
Sunset gave a magnanimous gesture. “I hear your worthy prayers, my child,” she said in deep, throaty tones, tossing a finished egg towards the sofa. Sonata lifted her plate to the predicted landing site and punched the air when it landed unerringly.
“Five points for Ravenclaw!”
Sunset came to sit next to Sonata, both tucking into their breakfasts. No matter how Sunset looked at it now, it was glaringly obvious. She wondered to herself vaguely just how obvious it had been. She remembered Applejack and Pinkie teasing her about it in Whitetail, Rainbow Dash in Baltimore, and the funny looks she sometimes got from her other friends and schoolmates. If it had been obvious to them, why not to her?
They never do realise it until much later, she thought, recollecting other instances known to her of lovers finally realising their feelings for one another. In examples from real life, one particular problem raised itself more often than not: One of the two knew and understood their feelings towards their prospective lover, whilst the other was either unaware, or unsure. Sunset suspected this to be the case with her. She was fairly certain of her own feelings now, but Sonata was so carefree and whimsical it was hard to gauge hers.
She looked at Sonata askance. Her roommate was fixated on the TV screen, unaware of Sunset’s internal musings. Yes, she had comforted Sunset during periods of obvious need, but that didn’t confirm the situation, at least in Sunset’s mind. But she had an idea of how she could find out. The trick was getting Sonata to go along with it. 
Sonata seemed to finally notice her staring and looked around, smiling innocently. “Take a picture,” she said with a grin. “It’ll last longer.”
“So I was thinking,” Sunset began, ignoring this particular piece of facetiousness. “How do you feel about going out and doing something today? Just you and me.”
“Doing what?” Sonata asked, mouth full of egg.
“Um... I don’t know,” Sunset admitted. “What would you like to do?”
Sonata considered. “Well, I have to stay on schedule with my project,” she frowned. 
“And I still have paper work and people to deal with,” Sunset waved that all away. “We’ve got two weeks. Today we have some fun. It’s spring break after all and I kinda think we could both use some.”
“Okay,” Sonata said, lightening to the idea. “Okay, I’m getting something here...” she pressed her fingers to her temples as though she were pretending to be psychic. “Um... bowling!”
“Bowling?” Sunset blinked. “Do you like bowling?”
“I have no idea,” Sonata giggled. “Never tried it before. Have you?”
“Nope,” Sunset shrugged. “Bowling it is then. And how about we go look at the art gallery afterwards? It’s nearby and I’ve been wanting to have a look in there since they announced the fair.”





It became apparent within ten minutes that neither of them was the least bit good at bowling. Sonata puzzled over and complained about having to wear the bowling shoes issued by a bespectacled attendant, and Sunset was having trouble with the children in the lane next to her. Every time she sat down for Sonata to have her turn, one of the little rascals would sneak up behind her and tug at her long hair.
“Get back here you little—“ she snarled, reaching over the back of her chair as the child cackled and ran off. Sonata laughed as well.
Each and every one of Sonata’s balls fell in the gutter. She really did have terrible aim. Sunset herself managed to get two or three balls not to go down the gutter, but two hit only a few skittles, whilst the third hit the centre and caused a split.
“Wow, you guys are terrible at this,” came a voice from behind them.
Sunset looked behind her. “Oh hey.” 
Standing side-by-side, bowling balls in hand, were the Crusaders. Applejack’s younger sister, Applebloom, stood proudly in the centre, her trademark pink hair bow slightly askew. Sweetie Belle, Rarity’s sibling, smiled and waved, whilst Scootaloo, Rainbow Dash’s protégé and self-declared biggest fan, stood in cocky attitude on the left, her wind-swept mane of pink hair standing up at the back as usual. 
“Are you kids going to try to play?” Sonata asked, sitting backwards on a chair and leaning on the backrest. “Wait, aren’t you those kids who always act scared of me in the lunch queue?”
“I think y’all must be thinking of some other kids,” Applebloom said, airily.
“No, I could swear it was you.”
“We’re totally awesome at this game,” Scootaloo changed the subject at top speed. “You watch, I bet at least half of our tries are strikes.”
“We’d better,” Sweetie Belle said, arms folded. “We’ve been coming here for like three years.”
It became apparent that Scootaloo’s boasting wasn’t without merit. She, Applebloom, and even Sweetie Belle bowled with a rhythm that spoke of much practise. Sonata seemed to become jealous, hanging off the edge of her seat and leaning to the side whenever a ball went off course, as though trying to psychically change its trajectory.
“Why didn’t you guys just put the guard rail up?” Sweetie Belle asked curiously.
“The what?” Sunset asked, sipping her soda.
“The guard rail,” Scootaloo said, in full I-know-better-than-you mode. “Like that kid.” She pointed to a lane several rows over, where a kid in a propeller hat was somehow managing to roll a bowling ball in one hand whilst simultaneously playing a hand-held game in the other. The ball rolled down the lane in a zigzag, bouncing off the small rails either side of it.
“He’s so talented,” Sweetie Belle said, dreamily.
“Seriously, I don’t get what you see in him,” Scootaloo sighed.
“I just said he’s talented,” Sweetie Belle snapped.
“At what? Playing that stupid game all day?”
“You take that back!” Sweetie Belle’s face turned pink, getting in Scootaloo’s face.
“Stupid game! Stupid game! Stupid game!” Scootaloo taunted.
“Girls!” Applebloom chided, shoving them apart. “Let us settle this like ladies.” She raised an arm and pointed dramatically at the lane. “By the noble sport of bowling!”
“You three have way too much energy,” Sunset smiled as the three of them continued their game.
“If you want him to be your boyfriend, Sweetie, why don’t we try matchmaking again?” Scootaloo asked. Sweetie Belle transitioned cleanly from exertion pink into embarrassed scarlet.
“No!” she cried. She covered her mouth as everyone looked around at her. “I mean, that was a disaster! Never again!”
“Oh come on,” Scootaloo waved her objection away. “He was too glued to his screen to notice that chocolate in your hair.”
“Ugh!” Sweetie Belle exploded. 
“Matchmaking?” Sunset inquired. 
“Yeah,” Applebloom said, sitting down next to her so that Sweetie could take her turn. Trying to ignore the crash of ball into skittles from the unnecessarily hard throw, Applebloom explained. “Sweetie likes that Button Mash kid.” She pointed down the lanes to the kid in the propeller hat. “So we all tried to see if our special talent was matchmaking, and tried to get them together.”
“Only it didn’t go quite as we planned,” Scootaloo admitted.
“Ugh!” Sweetie Belle exclaimed again.
“We tried the same thing with my big brother and Ms. Cheerilee, and that kinda worked,” Applebloom went on. Something seemed to occur to her. “Don’t you have a special someone?”
Sunset thought this a bit of a rude question. While she pondered an appropriate answer, Scootaloo sat down next to Applebloom.
“Sure she does. She likes that Flash Sentry guy.”
“Erm,” Sunset blurted. “No, I—“
“No, she used to go out with him. She doesn’t like him anymore,” Applebloom corrected.
“Guys?” Sunset said, weakly. She looked to Sonata for help, but she had disappeared to the snack bar.
“Why not?” Scootaloo asked. “He’s kinda hot for an older guy.”
“Ugh!” Sweetie Belle cried for a third time. “She didn’t like Flash, she just used him to get more popular!” She looked at her friends in dire irritation. “Rarity explained it to me.”
“Wow,” Scootaloo said, impressed. “You were a terrible person.”
“I know,” Sunset mumbled, feeling increasingly more annoyed at the trio.
“So who do you like now?” Applebloom asked. 
This was where Sunset made a fatal mistake. Her eyes involuntarily glanced sideways to Sonata at the snackbar, who unfortunately was all alone. She blushed at her mistake. Neither Scootaloo nor Sweetie Belle caught it, but Applebloom, perhaps from being around her only too perceptive sister, narrowed her eyes.
“Her?” Applebloom asked, sounding incredulous.
“Her what?” Scootaloo asked.
“She likes the blue girl,” Applebloom whispered conspiratorially. Traitorously, the heat in Sunset’s face burned worse. 
“Hang on, stop,” she interrupted hastily, but the three girls were paying her no attention.
“Like as in, like-like?” Sweetie Belle said, frowning. “But they’re both girls.”
“Applejack says that don’t matter,” Applebloom replied.
“Really?” Sweetie looked confused. 
“Wait, wait,” Scootaloo raised both hands. “So, would they be like, girlfriend and girlfriend?”
“I guess,” Applebloom said, thoughtfully.
“Girls!” Sunset hissed at them. They all looked up at her, innocently curious. “We’re not... that is to say, we’re not girlfriend and girlfriend.”
“Are you sick or something?” Sweetie Belle asked. “You look like you’ve got a fever.”
“Sweetie Belle, you’ve got a lot to learn about love,” Applebloom sighed. “That’s honeyglow.”
“Honey-what?”
“It’s what Applejack calls it when your face gets all hot from being around the person that you love.”
“I’ve never seen that,” she said, defensively. 
“That’s because it’s always on your face,” Scootaloo snickered. “Rarity gets it all the time too, how can you not have noticed it?”
“Girls, please just stop,” Sunset begged, as Sonata began to walk back over. She looked nervously over and then back, and felt her heart sink. Applebloom had yet another knowing look in her eye, and Sunset’s trepidation rose at the sight of it.
“Oooh,” she said, and then turned her two friends around and huddled them both in, whispering. Sunset eyed them with a rising fear that they were up to something, but had no time to sweat over the problem as Sonata returned, handing her a box of fries.
“Thanks,” Sunset said, perhaps a little too heartily.
“Are you okay?” Sonata asked. “You look all hot and bothered.”
“Um... it’s the game,” she invented quickly. “Not used to it.”
“Ah,” Sonata nodded. “You want to get out of here then? I think that’s the end of our game anyway.”
“Sure!” Sunset said, again perhaps too eagerly.
“Art gallery, yee!” Sonata exclaimed happily.
Sunset hurried after her as Sonata skipped out of the door, but took one look back before exiting. The three Crusaders were staring after her, all with sinisterly innocent smiles on their faces, all waving enthusiastically. Sunset waved weakly back, having the distinct feeling that she was going to regret her previous conversation.





The art gallery, a low, classical looking building with greying white walls, stood opposite the slightly eccentrically designed town hall, the tall, cylindrical appearance of which had featured the city in more than one who’s-who among modern buildings for those interested enough to look into such things. The art gallery in comparison was, ironically enough, more sober and sophisticated in appearance, but had been decked out in innumerable coloured flags and hanging banners proclaiming the coming fair that summer. 
Sunset had thrown off any concerns that she’d had on the way to the gallery, soothed of her fears by Sonata’s cheerful company. As they entered the gallery and paid the fee however, the attendant at the desk looked over Sunset’s shoulder. Following his line of sight, Sunset caught the edge of a pink jacket whip out of sight. A very familiar pink jacket.
“No,” she muttered to herself. “No, they wouldn’t.”
“Who wouldn’t what?” Sonata asked. “Stop mumbling and let’s go!”
Sunset allowed herself to be pulled off, but kept looking back. Surely the Crusaders wouldn’t follow them here. Why would they? There’s no reason. Please, let there be no reason.
The first room was a large, square space with what Sunset supposed were the gallery’s most impressive pieces. A hanging skeleton of a pterosaur dangled from invisible wires on the ceiling, which Sunset thought looked rather out of place until she saw that it wasn’t bone, but wrought-iron. A classical statue with its arm held out as though in welcome, and naked to the backside, stood on a tall granite block underneath, surrounded by glass cases showcasing smaller works. But Sonata pulled Sunset to the margins, where tall paintings and other works hung on the wall. A canvas the height and width of their apartment room showed nothing in Sunset’s opinion than a collection of scribbles. All different colours, all criss-crossing, splattering, neat lines and crippled ones all mish-mashed into a veritable storm of colour on a white background.
“It’s beautiful!” Sonata said in awe, grasping her hands together. “I wish I could paint like that.”
Sunset pursed her lips. “What is it?”
Sonata giggled, and took hold of Sunset’s shoulders to pull her to the side. Sunset tried to ignore the goosebumps on her skin, and looked at the painting. “Try looking from this angle,” Sonata said eagerly. Sunset stared. “See anything?”
“No, I...” but she halted. She craned her neck a little, and finally saw what Sonata was indicating. From directly in the centre of the picture, a number of the seemingly random lines and squiggles coalesced into a recognisable form. “Wow,” she whispered. 
“I know, right?” Sonata said excitedly. She began to explain what it was about the picture that allowed it to do this, and Sunset was actually surprised to hear Sonata being so knowledgeable. Then she spotted three heads peeping around the corner of the entrance door. As she had suspected, the Crusaders had followed them.
It doesn’t matter, she told herself whilst Sonata wittered on. What can they do? She regretted this thought almost at once. Scootaloo and Applebloom walked briskly off to the other end of the room, whereas Sweetie Belle, in the unconvincing attitude of an art enthusiast, meandered her way towards them.
“Oh hey,” Sonata said, smilingly. “Didn’t we just see you at the bowling alley?”
“Huh?” Sweetie said, in a voice so false it made Sunset cringe. “Oh! I didn’t expect to see you two here,” she tilted her head to one side, hands clasped behind her back.
“What are you doing here?” Sunset asked, trying to sound as cheerful and carefree as Sonata, but not quite managing it.
“Just looking at the art... stuff,” Sweetie Belle said, grinning even more widely. Sunset distinctly heard the sound of a palm striking someone’s forehead echo in the enclosed room. “What’re you guys doing here?”
“The same,” Sonata answered. “Have you seen this?” 
Whilst Sonata kept Sweetie busy, Sunset hurried over to where she knew Scootaloo and Applebloom were. She found them hiding behind several glass cases. A gentleman with silver hair tied back in an elegant ponytail and wearing purple glasses gave them a reproving glare and moved away.
“What are you guys doing here?” she asked.
“Don’t worry,” Scootaloo gave her a thumbs up. “We’ve got this.”
“Got what? There’s nothing to get,” Sunset hissed. 
“You’re on a date, aren’t you?” Applebloom asked, eyes full of eagerness. Sunset’s embarrassed hesitation was as good as a confession to the little Apple. “But she don’t know that, does she? Don’t worry though, the Crusaders have got this!”
“There’s nothing to get!” Sunset repeated. “Please, don’t do anything.”
“So what do you think of this one?” she heard Sweetie Belle ask loudly from across the room. Sunset and the two girls peered around the case to see Sweetie Belle pointing out an equestrian painting. A man in regimentals sat astride a horse, pointing a sword forth out of the painting. An army march behind him in the glare of a painted sunset.
“It’s nice visualisation,” Sonata said speculatively.
“I quite like the depiction of the sunset,” Sweetie Belle said in cultured tones, rather like Rarity. “See how it seems to shimmer behind them?”
“Why are you talking like that?” Sonata asked, giving Sweetie a curious look.
“Like what?”
“You keep putting emphasis into certain words,” Sonata pointed out.
Sunset, Applebloom, and Scootaloo all slapped their hands to their heads simultaneously. Sweetie paused for a moment, glancing momentarily to the side before hitching her smile back into place.
“That’s how you’re supposed to talk,” she said, confidently. “When you talk about art, I mean.”
“Oh.” Sonata blinked, looking faintly surprised. Sunset and the Crusaders all held their breaths. “So, should I speak more like this?” she asked, employing the same upper-society drawl as Sweetie Belle.
Scootaloo and Applebloom snorted, but gave Sweetie identical thumbs up. She gave them a covert salute.
“I bet you could draw something like this, couldn’t you?” Sweetie Belle went on.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Sonata said, speculatively. “This looks like it would take a long time.”
“A long time?” said a pompous voice. The man with the silver ponytail had been inspecting the painting next to them, and now pushed his glasses a little further up his shapely nose. “My dears, I personally know this artist. It took the better half of a year for him to make this marvellous display.”
“You know the artist?” Sonata asked, eagerly.
“Certainly,” the man said, a self-satisfied smile stretching his mouth. He held out a regal hand. Sonata shook it automatically. “Hoity Toity. Fashion aficionado extraordinaire,” he introduced himself. “Why am I here of all places, you may ask,” he continued when no one did ask. “The coming fair is to host some of the newest fashion designs, and as is fitting to my station, I must be ahead of the crowd at all times.” 
“That’s nice,” Sweetie Belle said, looking faintly annoyed. 
“Indeed,” Hoity Toity said meaningfully. “It is my opinion that paintings will soon have a more prominent role in the fashion world again,” he announced, rolling each and every R.
“Really?” Sonata asked, genuinely interested. “What kind of paintings?”
“Alas,” Hoity sighed. “That has yet to be determined.”
“Would you like to see some of my paintings?” Sonata asked, hopefully, perhaps losing herself in the moment. Hoity raised one perfect eyebrow.
“You have paintings on display here?” he asked, as though he found this hard to believe.
“No,” Sonata began. “At my apartment.”
“Ah,” Hoity smirked. “An amateur artist. How quaint.”
“Hey, watch it, buddy,” Sweetie Belle snapped. “I’ve seen her stuff, and it’s just as good as anything here!”
“You tell him, Sweetie Belle,” Sunset, Scootaloo, and Applebloom all whispered at once.
“And yet, not good enough to get into a common city art gallery,” Hoity observed, superciliously. “Good day to you,” he said, still smirking. He walked away, followed by Sweetie’s baleful glare, and Sonata’s slightly downcast frown.
“Don’t listen to that guy,” Sunset said robustly, walking over whilst Sweetie Belle rejoined her comrades. “He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. You could totally get some of your work in here.” 
Sonata gave her a questioning look, as though wondering if Sunset was just saying that to be nice. Then she seemed to get an idea. “Can I borrow your phone?”
“Um, sure,” Sunset said, handing it over. “What do you need it for?”
“Adagio,” Sonata said, eagerly. “She or Trenderhoof will know how I could get my stuff here. Or try, anyway.”
“Good idea,” Sunset nodded. “Trenderhoof might put in a good word for you, too. Do you mind if I just um, go over here for a moment?”
Sunset hastened back to the Crusaders, who were in solemn conclave.
“Guys, seriously,” she whispered. “Look, I’m grateful you’re trying to help me out here, but—“
“Are you telling us you don’t like her?” Applebloom asked, folding her arms stubbornly. 
“Well... okay, yes I like her,” Sunset admitted, dropping all pretence.
“Like-like?” Sweetie Belle asked.
“Yes, like-like,” Sunset blushed. She heard her phone go off but paid it no attention. Sonata would get it. “I just need to do this myself, okay?”
“Oh come on,” Scootaloo argued. “You’re taking forever with this. We can help you get together a lot quicker.”
“I don’t want it to go faster!” Sunset fought to keep her voice a whisper, but it was hard not to shout. “Look, I’ve got this, okay? Please just don’t interfere?”
They continued a little back and forth, since the Crusaders either didn’t believe that Sunset ‘had it’, or were convinced of their own ability to help things along. None of them noticed meanwhile the conversation Sonata was having, nor the paleness that was coming over her.
“For the last time,” Sunset began, really quite exasperated by this point. 
“Sunset?” Sonata called over. Sunset looked up.
“Um, yeah?” she said.
“Could I talk to you for a moment?” Sonata said, indicating the entrance hall.
Sunset followed her out of the room, but was somewhat surprised when Sonata didn’t stop in the vestibule. She tried ineffectually to point out that leaving would invalidate their passes, but Sonata kept walking. This made Sunset wonder what was wrong.
Outside, Sonata turned the corner and walked a little ways down a small side walkway between flower gardens. Sunset followed, aware of the Crusaders hiding behind the classical pillars of the gallery’s entrance to eavesdrop.
“I just got a call from the hospital,” Sonata said, finally speaking. “Or you did, I guess.”
“Okay,” Sunset said, reaching out for the phone. Sonata didn’t give it to her.
“Aria’s left the hospital.” 
Sunset’s insides clenched. “She discharged herself?” she asked, aghast. The feeling of the previous day bubbled up from the day before, slowly feeling its way back into her system.
“No, she’s just disappeared,” Sonata said calmly. That struck Sunset as a little odd, and so did the steady stare Sonata was giving her. Her magenta eyes bored into Sunset’s own. “Did you visit Aria yesterday?”
Sunset paused. “Yes,” she said. “I meant to tell you. You were asleep when they called and—“
“What did you say to her?” Sonata cut across her. Sunset paused again. The feeling crept up further, beginning to ball in her throat.
“What do you...?” Sunset said weakly. Her voice was suddenly hoarse.
“Sunset,” Sonata said, her voice tremulous. “Please tell me the truth. What did you say to her?” 
Sunset stared at her for a long moment. Her first instinct was to lie, to cover up what she’d said. She opened her mouth to spin at the very least a half truth, but then too late found herself completely outflanked. The feeling seething up inside her, and Sonata’s imploring eyes entirely cut her off. She was reminded irresistibly of her talk with Aria the day before, only now the roles were reversed. She was on the defensive, and it was from this new dynamic that she finally saw this feeling inside for what it was. She had felt guilt before, oh how she’d felt it. Those days since her defeat had heaped it upon her every time she looked into the stony faces of her classmates, whenever people shied away from her, whenever she saw the lingering fear and resentment in the eyes of her former victims. But this guilt was not like that. This was different and unfamiliar. It twisted inside her and grew spines, latching on like thorns.
She couldn’t have stopped herself if she’d tried. In full, she told Sonata exactly what she’d done and said to Aria. 
Sonata did not look angry. It would have been better if she had. Instead, her face drained more and more of colour, her eyes brimming with tears. Unseen by either of them, the Crusaders all looked on in awkward silence; Sweetie Belle, tearful and stricken, whilst Scootaloo and Applebloom looked faintly sick. 
When Sunset finished, Sonata looked so hurt, Sunset wanted to cry.
“I’m sorry,” she said, her throat dry. Sonata didn’t respond. She looked at Sunset as though some inner certainty had just been torn away from her. She turned and began to walk towards the street. “W-Where are you going?”
“I don’t know,” Sonata said, quietly. “I just need... I need some time to think.”
“I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t have said—“
“I’m not the one you need to apologise to,” Sonata replied. There was still no anger. It was just a deep, sorrowful disappointment. “I just... I wouldn’t have believed it of you,” she looked back. “You of all people.” 
Sunset could think of nothing to say. As Sonata carried on walking, she reached deep, broke down her barriers, tried one last desperate thing. One last truth that might save all of her hopes this day had occasioned her.
“Sonata, wait! Please!” she caught her by the wrist. “Please, I... I love you.”
There was a moment of absolute silence. Even the surroundings seemed to have quietened to a dull hush. A slight wind picked up, blowing Sonata’s ponytail faintly to one side. She lowered her head slightly, but did not turn around again.
“Ten minutes ago,” she began. She may have finally succumbed to tears, it was hard to tell. The pain in her voice mingled with the slight hint of a laugh made Sunset’s heart seem to contort in her chest. “You don’t know how happy that would have made me.”
Sunset didn’t go after her this time as Sonata tugged her wrist out of her grip and walked away from her. She just stood there, feeling so far removed from everything around her that she might have been in another world.
She came to herself when she felt an uncertain grip on her forearm. Looking down, she saw Sweetie Belle, her large green eyes shining with unshed tears.
“I’m sorry,” she said. Without another word, she ran over to her friends waiting by the gallery entrance.
By the looks on their faces, Sunset imagined that she must look utterly pathetic. And she had to admit, at that moment, she completely agreed with them.


- To be Continued