Neither Rhyme, Nor Reason

by Posh

Loved and Lost

Morning air kisses Sunset's bare skin as she spreads fresh cream onto a still-steaming crepe. She hums a tune, ignoring the cold, and spoons sliced berries from a serving bowl onto the crepe. With practiced ease, she folds it, sets it alongside two others on a plate, and wipes her hands off on her apron, yawning.

She's never gotten up to make breakfast this early. She doesn't intend to make a habit out of doing so, either. But today is a special occasion, and Cheerilee deserves a special breakfast. Especially since she's grading, and therefore less likely to feed herself – though Sunset's relieved to find the bento box hand-washed and drying in the dish rack.

And especially after the way things went last night.

She's putting the finishing touches on Cheerilee's breakfast – spraying a spiral of whipped cream on top of the three crepes – when Cheerilee emerges from her bedroom. Sunset smirks – she timed it perfectly.

"Sunny?" she says thickly. "Izzat you in the..." Her voice trails off, the sound of her footsteps stilling.

"Morning, babe," Sunset calls from the kitchen, craning her neck around. "I wanted to surprise you this morning, so I let myself in."

Cheerilee's hair, normally a meticulously brushed curtain, is a rat's nest. She's wearing a moth-eaten T-shirt with a cartoon cat on the front and ripped, baggy sweat pants that she's owned since college.

To Sunset, she's a vision of beauty.

She gets a similar reaction from Cheerilee. Her gaze travels from Sunset's face to her rear, her blush intensifying alongside Sunset’s feeling of triumph. After a year together, she still gets reactions like this from her girlfriend. All she has to do is show a little skin.

Or all of it, as it were.

Sunset cocks her hip and plants a hand on it, fluttering her lashes. "My eyes are up here, babe."

Cheerilee glances back up and coughs once. "Heh, um... what's this, now?"

"Part of the anniversary festivities." Sunset balances the plates on her palms and turns to Cheerilee. Her apron swooshes with the motion. "Naked breakfast."

Cheerilee raises an eyebrow. "'Naked... breakfast?'"

"Yeah." Sunset crosses to the bar counter that separates the kitchen from the living room, and sets both plates down. "You know. Like breakfast. Except—"

"Naked?"

"I was going to say 'clothing optional.'"

"Then why not call it 'clothing optional breakfast?'"

"Doesn't roll off the tongue nearly as well." Sunset drums her fingers on the kitchen counter. "I'm gonna get self-conscious if you don't get into the spirit of things."

"This is extortion, you know," Cheerilee scoffs. Still, with a look that hovers between exasperation and amusement, with a dash of arousal, Cheerilee strips off her shirt in one clean motion. She flings it away and dips her head at Sunset, brow furrowed.

"That's more like it." Sunset ogles shamelessly as Cheerilee swaggers toward a bar stool in front of the kitchen counter. "Of course, you're only halfway in the spirit of things."

"You're wearing an apron," Cheerilee points out.

"I'm trying not to get hot crepe batter all over my supple, vulnerable flesh." Sunset slides a plate of crepes toward Cheerilee. "What's your excuse?"

Cheerilee looks down at the crepes. Her tongue darts out across her lips. She glances up at Sunset, her eyes half-lidded and smokey.

Sunset's heart thuds in her chest. Without another word passing between them, she leans forward. Cheerilee meets her halfway.

They kiss, and break away – for only a moment, before Sunset kisses her again, harder. Cheerilee moans, opens her mouth, runs her tongue against Sunset's, weaves her hand into Sunset's hair...

Sunset's relieved. Kissing Cheerilee, first thing in the morning, was a calculated risk. Fortunately, her breath is minty fresh.

They break apart and rest their foreheads against one another.

"Are we okay?" Sunset whispers.

"I was never mad at you, Sunset. I think it's psychologically impossible for me to be, in fact." Cheerilee's fingers tighten their grip on the back of Sunset's head. "So, yes. We are okay."

Sunset breaks away, and kisses Cheerilee's forehead. "In that case, bon appetit. Better appreciate this – it's the one thing I'll cook today that I'll willingly take credit for."

Cheerilee laughs, and accepts silverware and napkin from Sunset when they're offered. Sunset pulls a plate toward herself and, standing, tucks into her own breakfast.

They eat in silence, the meal underscored by clinking silverware. Sunset relishes the moment as long as she can. Breakfast for two, with the woman she loves, on the anniversary of their relationship, is as close to perfection as she can possibly get.

"Dear," Cheerilee says, halfway through her meal. "Have you noticed how many of our interactions involve you feeding me?"

Sunset slices off a hunk of crepe, and spears it on her fork. "It's completely intentional."

"Because I don't eat when I grade?"

"No, I'm just unoriginal. I ran out of date ideas in March. Now I just chuck food at you and hope you don't get sick of it." Sunset nibbles her crepe. "You're not, are you?"

"You're safe." Cheerilee bites into a slice of strawberry and hums delightedly. "These are delicious, Sunset."

"Glad you're happy with 'em. I picked the recipe up from Pinkie Pie a while ago; I've been waiting for a chance to try them. Never have the ingredients at home, though. Knew I wouldn't here either, so I grabbed stuff on my way home last night."

"Is that a commentary on the state of my refrigerator?"

"No. But also yes." Sunset points her fork at the fridge. "That thing is empty, Cheers."

Cheerilee pouts. "You know I've been busy."

Sunset smiles around a mouthful of berries and cream, which she quickly swallows. "Well, now you've got some stuff to live off of. Flour, sugar, milk – and I didn't use the full carton of eggs. Consider it an anniversary present."

"You truly know the way to a girl's heart, Sunset." Cheerilee polishes off her second crepe, and digs her fork into her third. She pauses, disquiet flickering across her face. "Sunset, this is lovely, make no mistake. And I hate to cast a shadow on today, but..."

Sunset slides her plate aside, and folds her arm on the table. Cheerilee doesn't finish her sentence – she doesn't have to. Sunset knows what's on her mind.

"It wasn't a threat. Or a prank. At least, not as far as I could tell." Sunset toys with the end of her fork. "I've been invited to meet someone 'beneath sakura' at six PM tonight."

"Beneath sakura," Cheerilee repeats. She braces her knuckles under her chin thoughtfully. "So... cherry blossoms, then. I suppose it's referring to the grove at the tea pavilion."

"That's what I figured. There's an annual sakura festival there in April while the trees are in full bloom." Sunset rolls her eyes. "Of course, in the middle of June, it's not likely to look quite the same way."

Cheerilee tents her fingers. "Did it say why?"

Sunset blinks. "Why the trees aren't blooming?"

Cheerilee sighs. "Sunset..."

"...Sorry." Sunset averts her gaze from Cheerilee's. "Someone wants to tell me they love me."

Cheerilee doesn't respond right away. Then, in a soft voice, she says, "What are you going to do?"

Sunset plucks enough nerve to look back at Cheerilee. "I'm gonna show up. I'm gonna look this person in the eye, whoever they are. And..."

She pauses. Cheerilee seems to hold her breath.

"...I'm gonna let them down as gently as I can," Sunset finishes. "And I'm going to ask... politely... that they not pull stuff like that on my girl again."

Cheerilee exhales in a long, slow stream. She digs her fork into her crepe and drags it, leaving long, parallel furrows in its surface.

Sunset leans forward. "Are you okay with that?"

Cheerilee glances up, half-smiling – another look of warmth that doesn't quite shine true. "As long as you're not late for dinner."

A less pleasant thought strikes Sunset before she can bring herself to laugh. "Are you gonna want to know who it was?"

Cheerilee tilts her head, smiling softly. "I think it's best if I don't. Let's just put this behind us. Okay?"

She's projecting a sense of rationality that Sunset, frankly, does not believe. She doesn't doubt for a minute that Cheerilee's tearing herself up inside.

But Cheerilee's trying. So Sunset nods, and smiles, and the two of them finish their crepes in silence.

When the last of their breakfast is gone, Cheerilee stands and clears her throat. "You know. I don't have to be at work for another couple of hours."

Sunset looks up at her, wary. "And?"

Cheerilee turns her back to Sunset, and shoots a coquettish look over her shoulder.

"Well, I still have to shower. And we still have to make up." She saunters toward the bathroom, her hips swinging with every step. "Really make up."

Sunset gulps. She rips off the apron, flings it to the floor, and follows, powerless to resist.

---

Absent their usual festive pink canopies, the branches overhead look like skeletal limbs to Sunset, as empty as the pavilion itself. That only figures – nobody's going to visit a lifeless grove for a summer date.

Which might be why Sunset was asked to come here. No witnesses if someone made a scene.

She wore a dumb, sated grin through most of her shift at Super Sushi, but her mood had soured by the time she punched out. Food service is tedious enough on days when she doesn't have to break any hearts. By the time she makes it to the grove, at the stroke of six, she feels like she's on her way to her own execution.

At least I got to change – wouldn't wanna show up smelling like fish guts.

Sweetie Belle is already there, sitting on a bench beneath a low-hanging bough. She's kept the Japanese theme going with a red kimono, sewn from too-shiny red fabric and clumsily stitched with pink flowers. Lacquered chopsticks pin up her usually free-hanging hair, and her face is made up the same way as yesterday, though it's streaked and faded, with patches of skin peeking out. Either Sweetie sweated through it while waiting for Sunset...

...or it's the same make-up from yesterday. Sunset shudders.

The younger girl's head lifts as Sunset approaches. Her eyes widen, and she immediately stands, smoothing out the wrinkles in her kimono.

Sunset forces herself to smile, and waves stiffly. "Sweetie Belle, hey. Long time no see."

Sweetie doesn't say anything. Her toes, poking out from her kimono's hem, wiggle. Sunset guesses that she's trying her best not to run away.

"I'm supposed to meet someone here," says Sunset, with a quick glance at Sweetie from head to toe. "But it looks like it's just you and me. Hope I didn't get stood up. Nice outfit, by the way. Special occasion? Or did you just feel like breakin' out a... wait, that is a kimono, right?"

Sweetie's smart enough to recognize Sunset's words for what they are – a lifeline, a chance to back out. Sunset hopes, prays, that Sweetie takes it.

Screwing her eyes shut, Sweetie takes a deep breath.

"...Miss Cheerilee gave you the note."

Sunset had been bearing a weight since talking to Rarity last night. It's gone now, and that's a relief, but the emptiness it leaves behind is worse. She takes a seat on the bench, folds her hands on her lap, and bows her head.

"Figures it'd be you." Sunset looks up at Sweetie, whose kimono glints in the fading sunlight. "I knew something was up after yesterday. Just never thought..."

"Why not?" Sweetie's voice strengthens as she speaks. "Is it that weird? You must get tons of girls falling for you."

"I really don't."

"Well... you got me." Sweetie squares her shoulders. "You didn't even have to try, and you got me."

Sunset glances away, unable to look Sweetie in the eye. "How long?”

"...Long as I can remember. Even before I was in high school. I'd see you at, like, school events, or whatever. And I always thought you were... well, I'll put it this way. I figured out I liked girls by looking at you."

Sweetie sits on the bench. Sunset scoots aside; she's trying to put distance between them. Sweetie scoots closer, interpreting it as an invitation to get closer. A cloying, musky odor clogs Sunset's nostrils.

Same make-up. She hasn't bathed.

Sunset tries to breathe through her mouth.

"I remember hearing about your fights with Rarity," Sweetie continues, oblivious to Sunset's discomfort. "I remember listening to all the stuff she'd say about you, and thinking that nobody as beautiful as you could ever be half as bad as she said you were. Then she came home from the Spring Fling, crying about how you'd ruined her life. I knew I was supposed to hate you, but instead, I thought—"

"Sweetie."

"I could be the one to change you. I dreamed about making you as beautiful on the inside as you were outside. That's when I knew how I felt – how I really felt."

Sunset finally looks up at Sweetie. Earnest tears sparkle in the corners of the younger girl's eyes, and trace lines through her fading make-up.

"I tried to ignore it for a really long time – 'cuz it could never happen, right? Not the way that you were." Sweetie laughs to herself. "But when you changed, really changed, and made up with Rarity, that's when I thought that, maybe, someday, you and I could—"

Sunset raises a shaky hand, and Sweetie falls silent abruptly.

"Sweetie, I never knew... never even guessed you felt this way." She looks at Sweetie, who wears a cautious look. "And if you've really had a crush on me for this long, then I'm sorry, but—"

"Don't call it a crush." Sweetie balls up her hands, catching fistfuls of her kimono. "I'm being serious here."

"I know you are," Sunset says. "And I know it feels real—"

"It is real!" Sweetie grabs Sunset's hands, and holds them too tightly; her nails dig into Sunset's skin, just enough to be painful. "It's not some phase I'm gonna grow out of. I've felt this way for years, Sunset. I'm—"

"Don't say it," Sunset mutters through clenched teeth. Sweetie doesn't hear – or doesn't care.

"I'm in love with you." Sweetie's voice cracks on love. "And I wanna be with you – to really be with you. To be your girlfriend, for as long as you want me."

Sunset sees the kiss coming before Sweetie even moves.

She pulls her hands free from Sweetie's and bolts from the bench. Sweetie, leaning forward, cracked lips puckered, collapses against the empty space where Sunset had been. She looks at Sunset as though she's been slapped across the face.

"That wasn't okay." Sunset holds her stinging hand – Sweetie's nails clawed into her skin when Sunset broke free from her grip. "I'll forgive you, but it wasn't okay."

Sweetie gathers herself back on the bench, and sits up. "Sunset—"

"I'm sorry, Sweetie Belle. This is gonna suck to hear, but if I ever did anything to make you think we could have a future together—"

"You never had to do anything," Sweetie mumbles.

Sunset looks levelly at her. "We can't, and we don't."

Sweetie straightens on the bench, her head bowed and her face blank. For an instant, Sunset thinks she might just accept the rejection, and the pain it brings, and move on with her life.

Her hopes are dashed when Sweetie looks up, her eyes razor-slitted. "Why?"

Sweetie's voice is chillingly venomous. She doesn't sound like herself; she isn't acting like herself. Is it hormones, Sunset wonders? The sting of rejection?

If so, this'll only get worse for her.

"I have a girlfriend, Sweetie. You know that perfectly well. And even if I didn't..." Sunset breathes deeply, and chooses her next words carefully. "I don't feel for you the way you do for me. That doesn't mean I don't care about you; you're just way too young for—"

"I am not! I'm fifteen years old!" Her voice cracks on "fifteen."

Sunset's annoyance flares. "Then you're old enough to know what 'jailbait' means."

"That's rich," Sweetie Belle snaps. "Coming from someone who's screwing her teacher. I'm way closer to your age than she is, you know!"

"Not remotely the same thing." An old, familiar darkness creeps up on Sunset. "And I'll thank you not to talk about her that way. Using her to send me that crappy haiku, so that you could barf your delusions all over me, was bad enough without—"

Sweetie bolts off the bench. Tears stream openly down her rage-twisted face.

"You're the delusional one here," she snaps, thrusting her finger toward Sunset. "You're convinced you love your girlfriend for who she is, and not for who you wish she was. And you call me deluded?"

In her mind's eye, Sunset glimpses white teeth in braces, sparkling like diamonds. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"You know what it means. Cheerilee's a mess, she's lying to you about it every time she sees you, and you're lying to yourself if you say you can't see it." Sweetie's finger curls back into her fist. "And you wouldn't know good haiku if it bit you on the ass. Poser."

Relief hits Sunset, only to be dashed and replaced with anger. "I don't know who you are right now. You're not the Sweetie Belle I know."

"Maybe I'm being honest about who I am. Maybe you've spent so much time lying to Cheerilee that you don't know what that looks like."

"If this is who you really are, Sweetie..." Sunset sets her face in a scowl. "Then I don't have any interest in even knowing you, much less in loving you."

Rage and sorrow flicker across Sweetie's face. She whirls, and starts to run.

She gets one step before she trips on her kimono, and sprawls out on the ground.

Instinct wins over Sunset's anger; she takes a step toward Sweetie, arms outstretched.

Sweetie glares, furious, at Sunset, rips off her sandals, and flings them. Her throws are ill-timed and clumsy, and the shoes come nowhere near striking Sunset, but it stops her in her tracks regardless. Barefoot, Sweetie seizes her hem and rips the kimono up the center with a growl. Then she stumbles into the grove, her bare feet slapping noisily until she's vanished.

A gust rustles the dead branches above. Sunset tugs her jacket close, shivering.

Then she lashes out with her leg, and strikes the bench hard enough to split the wood.

Comments

[Purple-Smart Heart]

Then she lashes out with her leg, and strikes the bench hard enough to split the wood.

Hope Sunset isn't too hard on herself, she went into that with best intentions and as well as you could. We all like to think we can continue to be the mature one in the face of anything, but in the face of personal attacks on someone you love, attacks that come razor thin toward being threats? It would take Herculean effort beyond most mere mortals.

Is it weird I don't see this as possible with pony Sweetie Belle, but could 100% see this kind of development with EQG Sweetie Belle? Maybe the CMC in Equestria make me feel like they're much more mature, even though they're younger, than the counterparts that came up with Anon-a-Miss.

[Posh]

9154827 Personally, I don't think the human CMC have gotten much focus or development, so it's easy enough for us to look at them and say that they'd fit into this or that mold. That's by no means a criticism of your point; I quite agree. It's the only reason I was able to write the story this way.

By contrast, pony Sweetie is a more developed and complete character who's learned more about life (and, arguably, love) than her human self. It's harder to see her falling into this same situation.

Unless mind-warping magic were involved.