Chapter 11: π, Plans, and Perceptions
“…and she told me I could tell all of you.” Twilight opened her notebook to the place she had kept flipping to all night, restless in her sleeping bag, conscious of Rainbow sleeping beside her, but in her own bag.
The rest of them kept watching her as she flipped past the last filled page in her notebook and laid her pen along the groove. They had been quiet throughout the recounting of what Sunset Shimmer had told her about the dreams, the tale resounding in her head all throughout the long night.
Twilight slid her fingers over the blank page, tracing the impressions of doodles across the top from left to right until her finger rested on the last. Sunset Shimmer’s face in profile, distinct for her wildfire hair and the stubborn point of her nose, strong jawline, and piercing stare. She remembered the moment she’d captured it from, during history class: Sunset looking forward, pencil scribbling out notes with barely a glance at her notebook. Those bright azure eyes focused on a history that must have been as foreign to her as Equestria’s was to Twilight.
She rubbed a finger over the grooves left by her pen and almost turned the page back one to look at the actual doodles, shaded, but with no colors. She shook her head and drew her hand back from the page with a sigh, and looked up to take in her five friends.
Dawn’s golden light spilled over them, interrupted by long shadows creeping across the table. Applejack had an arm thrown behind Rarity’s shoulders on the sofa, a mug of tea steaming on the table in front of them. Fluttershy covered a yawn behind her forearm where she sat, legs folded, behind them on the loveseat.
Beside her, Rainbow Dash held her other hand below the table, and Pinkie Pie sprawled out on the couch, her chin resting on Twilight’s other shoulder. Six mugs, two ceramic and four spotted white and blue enameled steel, sat on the glass table.
Her own mug, a white ceramic one with ‘World’s Best Mom’ stenciled on it, sat cold with only a little bit of brackish-brown coffee left at the bottom. She jerked her eyes from tracing the words and brought herself back to attention.
“That’s pretty much all there is to tell,” she said into the silence. She had left out nothing, and the revelation of all felt like she had carved out a portion of herself, but she didn’t feel hollow. The ache of the night before had been taken away, and she wasn’t yet sure what had replaced it—neither warm nor cold. “I can guess what might be causing them, and I’m probably wrong. What I know is that she’s hurting, and lonely.”
Pinkie, laying behind her, rested a hand on her shoulder. “She had you to talk to. That’s good.”
Rarity raised her mug and took a sip, shuddered, and passed it to Applejack, who wrinkled her nose and pushed it away. Twilight saw her hair was still braided, though loosely, and her Stetson sat neatly squared atop her head, both of her ears visible for once.
“Yes, she did. I wish she had trusted us enough to—” Rarity winced. “Well, I suppose the dreams were all about that, weren’t they? Vicious cycle, that.”
“Yep.” Pinkie let out a sigh. “I already have her birthday party planned, too.”
“When?” Twilight asked.
“May third, her sixteenth. Say, that’s just a couple weeks before yours, isn’t it? Wow, coincidence!”
Twilight blinked at Pinkie. “She’s sixteen?” She’s my age? Why did I think she was older?
“A-huh. Fluttershy’s the only one of us who’s older by much, but that’s because she was a summer baby and her parents held her back a grade.”
Across the table, Fluttershy blushed and started to shrink back, but when everyone turned to look at her, she straightened, resting a hand on Applejack’s shoulder. “I-I’m glad they did. It means I’m not going to college alone. But… what are we going to do for Sunset? We can’t just leave her alone like that.”
“Nope.” Applejack reached up to pat Fluttershy’s hand and, with a glance at Rarity, settled the hand back into the its owner’s lap. “I think you should call her every day. Let ‘er know we’re all here. Heck. We can make it an evening thing. Drive up to the cliff, put her on speaker, and we all talk to her.”
“But she needs hugs!” Pinkie tapped Twilight’s head. “She needed hugs, too. And you can’t hug over the phone.”
“Not that you don’t try, Pinks,” Rainbow said, grinning.
“I agree,” Twilight said. “I wanted to hug her so badly when I was talking to her. I think she would like that.”
“I would agree, excepting a few not so small things.” Rarity glanced at Applejack. “We can’t just leave. Mr. Turnip Truck didn’t say when he’d be able to come by the house. He said a day, maybe two. And, as much as I’d love a warm shower, I can’t leave until it’s taken care of! Do you know how much money it’s costing my parents to refill the tank? If we don’t get this taken care of, my parents might think we don’t have the fortitude to take care of things. They might sell the house because they believe it would be better off in someone else’s hands.” Her eyes flicked to each face in the room, settling on Twilights before returning to her hands folded on the table in front of her. “And I’m not sure they’d be wrong.”
That threw a further silence over the living room. Twilight looked up from contemplating her hand twined with Rainbow’s, and drew hers free.
Rainbow drew hers back into her lap, offering a smile. “I don’t see why we can’t take the van back, drop in to see her, and come right back. With her in tow if need be.”
“She can’t. Remember?” Applejack tapped a finger on the table. “She’s got to take care of the animals on the farm.”
“Oh. Right.” Rainbow sighed. “So… drop one or two of us off, like Twi and me.”
“That’s at least ten hours when there’s no transport here. What if there’s an emergency? Remember, there’s no cell reception here. And we don’t know when Turnip’s gonna come ‘round. I never could pin him down on an exact time. Just: ‘Before the weekend.’ I didn’t think I’d need to try and pin him down.”
“AJ, can you stop pokin’ holes in my plan?”
“I don’t see why my idea can’t work. Call her every night. Every morning too, if you want. It’s just three more days.”
“That’s three days with only horsie hugs!” Pinkie flicked a finger at Applejack. “Horsies are nice, but they’re not people hugs.”
“I quite agree with Pinkie Pie,” Rarity said. “But I can’t let the house go. Not if I have any chance to convince my parents to let us keep it. And Applejack is right, too. I won’t let anyone stay here without some way to deal with an emergency.”
“What could even happen?”
“Storms. Or have you forgotten yesterday? I’ll just bet our weather radio was going off the charts.”
Rainbow Dash subsided, sighing. “Fine. You have a point.” She tapped a finger on the table. “But I still think we need to do more than just call her.”
“I agree!” Pinkie tapped Twilight’s head again. “And Twilight needs to give her a hug!”
Twilight sighed and lifted her head. “I want to. But I also think Applejack and Rarity have a point.” She picked up the pen from underneath the cover and clicked it. Options she had considered the night before seemed to glow on the page, beckoning her to trace them and make them real. Or that was the lack of sleep talking, combined with too much instant coffee.
She touched her pen to the start, took a deep breath, and started. “One. Sunset is hurting, and she needs our help.” Purpose rose up inside her as she wrote, and pleasure at seeing her hands were steady, her lettering precise. “Two. We need to refill the propane tanks here. Three, we need to have means to deal with emergencies here. Four… We need a way to get there.” She sighed and tapped her pen on the page. Of all the options she had considered, only one had seemed viable in the middle of the night. “Flash Sentry.” She wrote his name down.
“What?” Rainbow sat upright.
“You can’t be serious,” Rarity said.
“But he had a crush—” Rainbow shut her mouth over the rest with an audible click of teeth. “You aren’t… thinking?”
“No. I’m not. I… Rainbow, I’m pretty sure I’m…” Twilight took a deep breath, let it out, lowered her eyes for a moment, and lifted them to meet those of each of her friends. “No. I’m almost certain I’m…” The idea was so new, that she had a sexual identity at all outside of the clinical acknowledgement that she would figure it out someday. Trying to say it felt like standing up in front of class and announcing her science project was to calculate the exact value of π. Ridiculous, but serious at the same time.
And her answer might be the equivalent of saying ‘π is exactly three.’
“Twilight, darling, whether you’re gay or straight or bisexual has no meaning to us.” Rarity kicked her foot out to brush Twilight’s knee. “We love you, no matter.”
Twilight nodded, sighed, and sat back. Pinkie kissed the top of her head, and Rainbow patted her leg. She pushed the question aside again, focusing instead on the four points in front of her. “Four. Flash Sentry.”
“Why him? Why not your brother? I like him. Or… or…” Rainbow twiddled her fingers in the air, as though snatching at ideas.
“I thought about that last night, and tried to come up with some alternatives.” She sketched out a quick map of the country and started marking down names. “Shining Armor and Cadance are way up in Whinnyapolis.” Twilight tapped the end of the pen on Pinkie’s head. “Her parents are taking Maud to look at the geology program out in Manehattan.” She pointed the pen at Rarity. “Your parents are…”
“Having themselves a staycation while Sweetie Belle spends the week with Apple Bloom and Scootaloo at Applejack’s. They won’t rouse themselves long enough to drive out here unless there’s a real emergency.” She winced. “Not that Sunset’s dilemma isn’t an emergency, but there aren’t sirens and flashing lights and fire trucks for a friendship emergency.”
“Maybe there should be,” Pinkie said, her voice thoughtfully quiet.
“Be that as it may, Pinkie, I don’t blame them. Sweetie Belle runs me ragged when my parents are gone. So, I’m glad to let them rest until and unless there’s a real fire-and-brimstone emergency.”
“And Big Mac won’t leave. He’s makin’ sure that nothin’ fiery or brimstoney happens out at the farm. Considering there’s a cookout scheduled…” Applejack muttered something under her breath. Rarity giggled.
“My parents only own an electric,” Fluttershy added. “It would never make it this far.”
“And my dad… and you.” Rainbow touched Twilight’s shoulder, letting her hand drop. “Yeah. I don’t want to open that can of worms with him again.” She sighed.
“I thought he was fine with you being a lesbian,” Applejack said.
“He is. He just doesn’t like it when drama happens. My dad likes his quiet.” She grinned. “To be fair, he’d be the same way if I had any interest in boys at all. Except, you know, um, more ‘Dad Mad!’ like Saddlerager.”
“And I don’t want to open that can with my parents again, either. Boy or girl. That whole WhoTube fiasco had me under close scrutiny for almost six months! My parents thought I was lying through my teeth, to them, to the police, to insurance investigators… I got placed on academic probation for three weeks! That’s never happened to me before.” She sighed, ticking off fingers. “Curfew, chaperoned everywhere, my phone checked every day, and I’m lucky my parents don’t know you can erase browsing history without leaving a trace…” It had been a mess, and Twilight still shuddered to think of the questions her parents, and Cadance, had asked her. Not again. Twilight circled Flash’s name. “He’s got a car. He’s nice.”
“And he’s got a crush on you!”
“Not on me.” Twilight shook her head and tapped the pen against the page. “On other me. We don’t even know if she would reciprocate. What if she’s like me? We’re so alike in other ways.”
“You mean gay?” Applejack shared a glance with Rainbow. “I mean, I don’t know what… I mean, er, ponies. Y’know?”
“She’s not a ponysexual, silly. That’s not even a thing.” Rarity sighed and rolled her eyes. “She means she, Other Twilight, may be bisexual. Or straight and curious. Or, yes, a lesbian. It doesn’t matter, and it wouldn’t matter to me one whit if any, or all of you, ended up liking girls. Or boys. Or ponies!” Her lips quirked upwards in a wry smile. “That last might be a little odd.”
Applejack held Rarity’s gaze for a moment longer, let out a sigh, and nodded. “Yeah. I guess you’re right. It doesn’t matter.” She opened her mouth, glanced across at Twilight, shook her head, and her lips compressed into a tight line, her cheeks heated.
What’s that about? Twilight studied her friend across the table for a long moment, but Applejack’s eyes stayed fixed on the side of Rarity’s head. Figure it out later.
“I’d like to get back on track.” She tapped Flash’s name again and circled it again, then underlined it. “Unless anyone has any better suggestions, or knows someone—” Twilight glanced at Pinkie.
“Nah. Most of the cool kids with cars are off doing stuff this week. Like us. We’re cool kids.”
“Then I think we need to discuss what else needs doing.”
Applejack lifted a hand. “I’d like ta wait until at least noon. Or evening. Give Turnip some time to get his act together, give us a chance to get things squared away here. There’s still a lot of dishes yet, and a goodly amount of cleanin’ up to do. Badminton net, gotta find our frisbees, that beach ball Pinkie sat on. And our clothes and the bedroom upstairs. Ain’t sure if y’all noticed, but it’s kinda a mess.” She tapped the table once for each item, levelling a look at Rainbow for the final one. “If he ain’t come by the time we get that all straightened up, then sure, let’s give Flash a shot, but I’d rather us all go than just two of us.”
Twilight halted herself from immediately retorting, closed her mouth, and considered. Five hours, four hundred miles each way. As much as she would like to be there immediately, a ten hour turnaround in the best case meant immediately had a very different meaning from ‘right now.’ She sighed, nodded, and sketched out a star next to Flash’s name. “Alright. Early afternoon would be best, I think.”
“And if he says no?” Rainbow reached out to tap his name on the paper. “We don’t exactly have a whole lotta options, and I really doubt Rarity’s parents would enjoy paying for a taxi all the way back.”
“Four hundred miles on cab fare rates? Round trip? Heavens no. I’d never see the outside of the house or school again!”
“Then we figure out something else.” Her pen drifted to Canterlot and the tiny names of her parents. “If it comes down to it, my parents don’t need to know about what happened this weekend. I think we can cover it up. At least until I’m ready.” To tell them I’m… what? I don’t even know. Her body had responded to Rainbow’s nudity, and that meant something, and her mind kept insisting on bringing it up.
A biological response does not imply a matching emotional connection, she told herself. Please stop muddying an already muddy issue, brain. Except she did feel an emotional connection, and her heart swelled whenever Rainbow smiled at her. Just like it did for all of her friends, each one a special bolt of color racing through her. She sighed and looked up, realizing everyone was watching her.
Rainbow touched her leg, but Twilight shook her head, folded Rainbow’s fingers in hers, and pulled them away. Rainbow nodded, smiling, and withdrew.
“Parents as a last resort,” she said, writing it out.
“If it comes to that, you’d best not plan on having Rainbow along.” Applejack chuckled and tossed a grin across at the other girl. “Your parents’d know about your first kiss before you did.”
“T-that was an accident!” Rainbow jabbed a retaliatory finger back. “I didn’t mean to text him! That was meant for CK!”
“Look before you text, darling. Cardinal rule of clandestine romance over cell phones.” Rarity gave Rainbow a sly smile and got a glare in return.
Rainbow huffed, cheeks burning cherry, and buried her face between Twilight’s shoulder and the couch cushion
“Let’s hope for Flash,” Twilight said wryly. She reached up to stroke the back of Rainbow’s neck, froze when the warmth spread along her fingers, and continued, gently massaging until her friend lifted her head, huffed, glared at Rarity, and settled back down. “But we have to call him first. Does anyone have his cell—”
“Yep! One sec…” Pinkie was already flipping through her phone’s contacts.
“—phone “
“I’m not surprised in the slightest.” Rarity giggled. “I’m sure Pinkie has Principal Celestia on speed-dial.”
“Number forty-two!”
Twilight threw herself into cleaning, and managed to organize the upstairs bedroom, have everything folded, sorted by color and whose clothes they were on the bed before noon. She had faltered with Rainbow’s boxers and panties, but managed to ignore the fact she was touching them long enough to settle them under a shirt smelling of stale sweat and the cleaner salt of the ocean.
Rainbow and Applejack took down the net outside and hunted down the various bits of bracken left over from their outdoor fun while Rarity and Fluttershy set the kitchen back to rights.
By the time they were all done, the sun was high overhead, casting the main room in a pure light that gleamed off polished wood and stone, and made even the fireplace appear clean despite the new layer of ash in it.
Rainbow Dash came back in to take a nap, throwing an arm over her eyes.
Twilight, sitting on the stairs and watching a scudding shadow pass by on the beach, found her eyes flicking back to Rainbow, then to Applejack sitting at the kitchen table, also watching Rainbow doze, her lips pursed in a thoughtful expression while she nursed a sweating water bottle. Then her eyes would drift back to the shadow when she realized she was staring.
And all through, Twilight’s thoughts came back to what her sexuality meant to her. What her orientation meant to her plans for the future, and what she could do about them.
When she watched Rainbow, especially asleep, studying what she could see of her friend’s sharply planed face, watching the rise and fall of her chest and stomach, she felt around inside her for what it was exactly that drew her eyes. Rainbow was attractive—she couldn’t deny that, nor did she want to—and it set something in her stomach aching to touch and explore. She wanted to—
She bit her lip, using the pain to distract herself, and drew thoughts back into orderly lines, focusing not on what she wanted but what what she wanted meant.
She drew up, too, images from her anatomy textbooks and the pictorial guide to gender and sexuality that Cadance had given to her to supplement SSA’s sex-ed classes. Pictures of men at various ages from young adult to elderly, their anatomy in various poses and states. The women, too, she recalled, in the same ages, their anatomy on display just as much as the men’s.
The men… were an interesting data-point, she decided, but none of them had stirred more than an academic interest in anatomy. The women were the same, or had been. Even now, she couldn’t really see those images as more than just interesting bits of anatomical data, as they had been expressed. She didn’t know the women in those photos, didn’t know if they shared her same intellectual curiosity, or if she could have been friends with them at some point.
Her eyes kept betraying her to stare at Rainbow’s rising and falling chest, drifting to the strong lines and curves of a bare calf thrown carelessly over the back of the couch. And within her, uncovered by her contemplative silence and the reaching, she felt a warmth that she might kindle to a flame if she just called back…
She shook her head and closed her eyes resolutely, leaning her head against the railing.
The pictorial had been just that, pictures of anatomy, with only a brief glossary in the back giving her information she had long before gleaned for herself from other sources, but the definition was clear and concise. And the definition that pertained most to who she was…
Lesbian - a woman whose sexual attraction is limited to other women.
The suggestion was simultaneously freeing and terrifying.
Terrifying that she suspected with a ninety percent accuracy that she was correct, that she would have to confront it at some point with those she loved. Aside from the six friends whom, she was certain, would not care if she declared her love for a moon goddess from another dimension.
Freeing because her carefully scripted life-plan had taken a sudden turn into the odd world of friendship and romance. Terrifying, too, stepping out into that unknown and unknowable world where the variables and formulae for making plans were themselves mysteries she had yet to solve. If her near certainty turned to certainty, perhaps that might solve some of them.
Terrifying again at the thought of admitting it to others. Her friends wouldn’t mind, but an unreasonable fear that speaking it aloud would be telling everyone, everywhere, all at once. As soon as she dismissed that fear as ridiculous, it became the fear that admitting it would change some indefinable part of her and everyone would know when they looked at her. That, she couldn’t dismiss as easily.
What if I do act differently? That thought, a fear in itself, led to another: But I already know. Don’t I? Doesn’t knowing have the same effect as telling?
She lifted her head at last, fears and counter-arguments running rampant through her mind, still muddled with cross-wired thoughts and mishmashes of other internal arguments. She spent a long, silent moment looking over the open room below, squinting against the glare. Her friends were all resting after the frenzy of activity, and she knew that she would not have to face the unknown alone.
The fears subsided as her eyes adjusted to the light again, and she watched them all relaxing in the pure light of a beautiful day. They had taken her with them, almost a stranger, and loved her unquestioningly. The had shown her the way to a world she had been ignorant of.
This may not be the last vacation they ever took together, but it was the last she would feel uncertain of her place with them.
She loved all of them, even the one not present, and she couldn’t allow her friends to face their own journeys alone.
Her eyes met Applejack’s, and she stood.
The drive up the incline in the early afternoon passed slowly, just as the rest of the day had. The trees and rock formations along the side of the road looked different from the passenger seat, and Twilight held her phone in her lap, the blue charge light winking on and off. Neither phone nor geology held her attention for long.
Her thoughts kept twisting out of control. From the house to Rainbow and their situation, to Sunset and hers, back to uncertainty about her sexuality and then back around again to the house and her last vacation as the girl she had once been: naive, closeted, and as uncertain about her own social standing as she now was about her orientation.
Was I really naive when I came here?
A new question to ponder, but easier to answer: No. Her naivety had wilted in the bloom of friendship and finding out that there was a much larger world that her schoolbooks, and even the fiction she read, had even hinted at. Almost, she could feel the flower paradigm of her ignorance ready to wilt completely and fall from its bush.
“You were awful quiet after the, er, Council of Friendship is what Pinkie’s callin’ it.” Applejack smiled as she said it and she pulled the van to a stop. “You okay?”
Twilight still hadn’t decided on what she wanted to say. Either to Rainbow Dash or her friends. “Yes. Mostly.” She pulled up her contact list again and scrolled down to the newest entry.
Flash Sentry. She sighed, looking aside at Applejack. “I could have walked up here.”
“Yeah. You could’ve.” Her friend gave her a sidelong glance. “But then it’d be another three hours before we heard back. And I think you still need to talk to someone about Rainbow.”
“I know.” She gripped her phone tighter, glancing at the signal meter. Three bars. “I should have talked to her after we finished cleaning and packing, but she took a nap.”
“Eh, you know she woulda woken up for you. Maybe.” Applejack shrugged. “It takes time to figure things out. Sometimes, it helps to talk em out, too, with friends who’ve got an outside perspective.” She glanced at the phone, tapped her fingers on the steering wheel, and nodded. “Go ahead and call.”
She did. Silence. Connecting. Suddenly, she wondered if the tower she had called from the night before had been on her service, or if her parents would be wondering in a few weeks time at the massive, two hour roaming charge from the middle of the night.
“I still think you should give it some time, call her again tonight, keep up with it.” Applejack shrugged and shut off the van. “But I understand, and I wish we could all just pack it up and go see her.”
Twilight shook her head and listened to the hum and chime of the connection tone, then the ring, cut off halfway through.
“Hello? Wait, Twilight?” There was a rustling noise. “Hold on. I’ve got you on my second line.”
The phone went silent. She blinked at it. The call was still connected. She glanced aside at Applejack, shrugged, and put the phone back to her ear.
“Sorry. What’s up?” A car’s engine growled in the background.
“Well… I’d like to ask a favor. A big favor.”
“Seems to be the day for that.” He sighed loudly. “What is it?”
“I… we need to have you pick me up and take me to Sunset’s house.”
Applejack rolled her eyes and leaned against the steering wheel.
“Sure. When? Is she okay? Where should I pick you up?” The eagerness in his voice hurt to hear, and she almost called it off as a bad idea. Sunset’s sobbing through the phone stopped her.
“We’re not in Canterlot.” She let that sink in, waited for the followup. Ease him into it.
“Um… what? Where are you?”
“Yeah, we’re out on the coast, about five hours distant by a little town called Hayseed.”
Silence on the line.
“The coast.” He made something like a choking noise. “You want me to drive out to the coast, five hours away, and then drive back. You do realize it will be the middle of the night when we get back, right?” A pause. “If I decide to even help you.”
“Um… yes?”
“Do you even know how big of a favor that is?”
“Kinda big, isn’t it?”
He barked a laugh. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s pretty big. Look, I’ve got to help… a friend. Let me think about it and I’ll get back to you.” He sighed. “Give me an hour, tops, and I’ll call you back. I promise.”
“Thanks.” The line went dead.
“He’s coming?”
“He’s going to think about it, he said. He’ll call me back later… so I can’t really leave. You don’t have to stay.”
“Nah. I’m fine. ‘Sides, Rarity said she wanted to talk to Rainbow some more.” She turned a look aside to Twilight, “What’s your intention with her?”
“With Rainbow?” It was a stalling question, and she winced as soon as it came out. “I-I don’t think I’m…”
“It’s okay. I ain’t gonna tell her anything, you know.”
“I like her. A lot. I almost kissed her last night. But I don’t think I’m in love with her. I mean she’s… attractive.” The word came out as strained and weak. She sighed, shaking her head, and looked up to see Applejack watching her with a small smile. “I love her like I love you. You’re my best friends.”
Silence fell again, and in the wake of the storm, there was barely even a whisper of wind stirring the copse of trees by the road. Twilight stared at them, aware of Applejack’s eyes on her.
Applejack thumped the steering wheel once. “It was quite a sight seein’ you sleeping like that. Cute, I suppose, but don’t tell her I said that. She’d thump me good.” More silence followed, and Applejack sighed. “You like her a lot, love her like a friend. you even slept together.”
If she had stuck her face close to a bunsen burner, she imagined her cheeks might feel less hot. “Nothing happened!”
Applejack nodded. “I know. But, um… Kinda hard to ignore.” Applejack reached out and patted Twilight’s knee. “You’ve gotta face it, Twi. It happened, and I think she’s readin’ a lot into you not sayin’ anything against it happening again. Or going further.”
“I know.” She took a deep breath and let herself sink back into that sensation of waking up, too warm for just a blanket, too comfortable for coincidence. “It was nice, you know. Waking up with someone warm. Even if it might turn out… odd, I don’t regret that we shared that.”
Applejack made a noncommittal noise. “You know she, uh, had some troubles with a crush, right?”
“She said something like that. With Cloud Kicker.”
“Mhm.” Applejack nodded.
“And that she held a grudge for the breakup. And that Other Me leaving convinced her she shouldn’t hold onto it.”
“Huh. She never told us that. Just one day, she made up. Been friends since, even if CK ended up dating that lacrosse guy. I forget his name.”
“What’s that got to do with me?”
“Well, y’see… she has a tendency to latch on. Kinda like Rarity that way, actually.” Applejack gave her a warning shake of her head. “Don’t you dare tell neither of em I said that, either.”
Twilight laughed and zipped a finger across her lips.
“So… yeah. She kinda crushed on you. She knows it, too. But… crushes ain’t exactly rational or easy to get rid of.” Applejack met her eyes briefly, steadily. Whatever her friend had been looking for, she nodded. “But I’ve got a feelin’ it ain’t exactly one way, either, is it?”
Twilight shook her head. “I don’t think it is. I think infatuation fits better. Not quite a crush. But more than best friends. I think…” She turned her eyes to the van’s roof, seeking the certainty of purpose that would let her say what she needed. “I-I—” The words ‘I’m a lesbian’ wouldn’t come out, and she told herself after a long moment that it was her lack of evidentiary rigor to disprove it that accounted for her inability.
Applejack smiled as if she knew what had been happening in Twilight’s mind.
“I just don’t know what to do. Or what I feel. About anything. Sunset says I should just tell her sooner. But I don’t know what to tell her.” The words kept coming, and her mouth kept speaking them, disconnected from any attempt to stall them. “I have this horrible feeling that if I tell her, it will be the wrong thing. Or that it will be the right then, but later, I will find out it was the wrong thing all along. Or that it will be the wrong thing, and then she won’t forgive me for breaking her heart. I worry that I’m not really what I think I am, t-that…” There, finally, the words found a stopper. The same three words.
But what if I’m wrong? said the ghost of scientific rigor in her mind. She thudded her head back against the headrest in a steady rhythm, as if blunt force could do what will could not and shake free the three words she knew to be true in her heart. After only a day, how am I so certain?
After a lifetime of clues, she wanted to tell it.
Thud.
Her girlhood crush on Cadance both of them must have mistaken for adoration.
Thud.
Applejack’s hand touched her shoulder, but she shook her head. The hand stayed.
Her discomfiture around boys, mistaken for cooties at first, and later as social anxiety. As distinct internally as her discomfiture around girls.
Thud.
The way she felt whenever she was in the girl’s locker room, as uncertain of the social rules as she was of her place in that room rarely ventured, and often only when the girl’s bathroom was overcrowded or closed for cleaning—often because of a science experiment gone wrong. Her gawking at bodies more fit and toned than her own, and at bodies less so, the feeling a complex mix of anxiety, curiosity, and envy.
Thud.
I’m a lesbian.
It painted everything in a different light. Her whole life. Not a lie, not even close, but without the understanding that, like her glasses and contacts, let her see clearly.
When Twilight opened her eyes again Applejack still had her hand on Twilight’s shoulder, and was watching her with eyes clouded with concern, brows furrowed.
“What’s got you so upset? It’s not Rainbow, is it?”
“I’m a lesbian,” she said before the thought and courage to voice it left her. “And pi is adequately expressed as 3.14159265359 for most non-scientific endeavors.”
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And this, dear Twilight, is definitely a non-scientific endeavor.
Awesome chapter, and moving things along nicely!
Some really late replies to the last chapter. Sorry. Got kinda caught up in the Writeoff and forgot.
6117574
It is unsettling. I'd rather not say much about why she kept it to herself for as long as she did, though.
6117593
Glad to hear it. I liked writing this chapter, and I like Sunset, too.
6118296
Maybe. She has more experience as an 'adult' than her friends do, though it's from a pony side.
6126582
Thank you! I do try to make my character interactions work well. I've been there too, from time to time. Paranoia is a stupid thing, and hard to get rid of.
6130527
Thank you. I think I handle Slice of Life pretty good, and characters, too. And, I hope, when this story's sequel gets to it, the romance as well. (No, there's no romance in this story)
6126713
I liked that line, too.
I'm not sure if I'm terrified that Rainbow and Twi won't get together in the end or thinking that that may be the best course of action. I mean Twi has a lot on her plate right now and throwing Rainbow into the mix might be a bad idea.
But I ship them so hard
6191016
Indeed it is not. She'll understand that at some point.
6191342
It's always nice to see comments like yours. It tells me that the character I'm trying to show is growing on people. And when they care about her state by the end of the story, it gives me warm fuzzies.
Twilight would say something like that. Lol. Such a good chapter. I really felt for Twilight in this one especially with her inner conflict. When I first realized I liked girls I was scared out of my mind. But I'm glad I had a few good friends to help me through it like her.
Loved this.
6209822
You know, I was wondering how people would take that last line. I know I haven't exactly been subtle about the lesbianism throughout the story, and in this chapter less than most, and it's a too common trope in the fandom. But it actually kinda follows my own experience, too, though that's some 10 years done and gone. It wasn't something I spent my whole life wondering about, it was a revelation. Before then, I hadn't had any real idea why I was the way I was, and didn't have much interest in finding out. My escapes were mostly books and a few video games, and I used them to escape thinking about everything in my world.
It wasn't until I left home that I felt comfortable enough to think about myself. It took maybe a few months before I ran straight into what I was looking for online in the form of a blog that I spent a day reading. This was back in the mid-90s, when all things LGBT were more ambiguous and most parents (especially in the Bible Belt, where I lived) carefully excised all things even remotely homosexual from their homes. Then we got the internet.
So... A little different for Twilight, well, a lot different, but her 'glasses' came in the form of her friends.
You know, it's in rereading this chapter that I have to admire how well you captured twilights thoughts/grappling with sexuality. Its not overdone but its not just treated as a small thing either. It's really interesting. Well done!
I really liked this chapter. The issues are laid out and planning is done - and Twilight has a lot to sort out, but she's at least found one definitive answer. This is still great!
And finally starting to catch up! Anyway, that final bit? Pure Twilight. :D