The Incredible Gravitational Pull of Canterlot Donut Shops

by mushroompone

And End

The bell above the door sounded precisely like his magic.

It had only been three months, sure-- but Soarin would know that sound anywhere. That sound was the deadline for Soarin’s latest culinary combination to make it to the table, served with a smile and usually a bit of witty banter.

The sound of the bell, that is.

The sound of Sunburst’s magic, on the other hoof, was ever-present. It meant nothing, and it meant everything. It was the way he adjusted his glasses, the way lifted a book only to peek over the top, the way he sipped his tea, the way he smiled and talked and laughed and…

Funnily enough, Soarin had gotten much better at the whole food thing after he got his cutie mark. The double cresting waves and the lightning bolt very clearly had nothing to do with cooking or even serving food, yet it was like a previously invisible mental block had been cleared. He was more adventurous. More free. Less concerned.

“Anywhere you like!” Soarin shouted. “Be right with you!”

“No rush at all.”

Soarin turned to face the source of the familiar voice.

“Evening, Sunshine,” he said.

Sunburst rolled his eyes. “You know I hate that.”

Soarin shrugged. “That’s exactly why I do it,” he said, adding in a phony wink. “The usual?”

“The usual,” Sunburst echoed.

It had only been three months, but three months could be a long time. Years, in fact. It could also go by in the blink of an eye. In some very rare cases, it could do both at once.

Sunburst moved to his booth without a second thought, sliding in easily and resting his latest read on the table. Rather than read, however, he looked out at the streets of Canterlot. He had become a bit of a pony-watcher lately.

Soarin whirled about behind the counter, dodging and weaving around his boss with practiced grace. He clearly seemed to have a dish in mind, as he didn’t so much as pause or hesitate as he worked. His wings moved with him, as if extensions of himself, guiding his every step and duck and twirl.

And yet, for as well as they felt they knew each other, they still stole glances. Sunburst out the corner of his eye, Soarin through the display case as he hunted for the perfect pastry.

In this way, nothing had changed.

The work was second nature, now. Nothing close to the struggle it had been at the beginning of the summer, when he still had to learn how to work the coffee makers and clean the grease traps and balance a tray. It was just a part of how he moved, now. Just like flying.

Soarin delivered the tray with little fuss, depositing a muffin and a cup of tea on the table before his friend.

Sunburst smiled. “Ah, the original.”

“Bet you thought I forgot, huh?” Soarin slid into the booth across from Sunburst and, for once, did not earn a pointed look. “This is like the super version of that one, though.”

“Oh?” Sunburst peered down at his food skeptically. “How so?”

“Well, first of all,” Soarin began, pointing to the tea, “you’ll notice I’ve removed your tea bag.”

“Impressive,” Sunburst commented.

“It’s also a latte!” Soarin quickly pointed out. “Which I didn’t know you could do to tea! Go figure.”

Sunburst chuckled a little. “You’ve made me lattes before, Soarin.”

“Yeah, but this is the original,” Soarin explained. “This is the latte. The one and only.”

“Of course, of course…” Sunburst murmured, taking a slow sip of the tea. He savored it, with eyes closed, considering its flavor carefully and completely. “It’s good.”

“It’s good!” Soarin pumped a hoof in the air. “Nice. Crushed it.”

“And the muffin?” Sunburst asked.

“Muffin’s the same,” Soarin said with a shrug.

Sunburst scowled.

Soarin held up his hooves defensively. “You’re the wizard, Sunshine! Not me!” He laughed lightly. “I dunno how to make muffins. C’mon.”

“Tsk, you’re telling me you didn’t actually get a cutie mark in baking?” Sunburst said, painting on an over-the-top look of surprise. “I must have forgotten! You’ll have to tell me the story again!”

Soarin stuck out his bottom lip. “I thought you liked that story…”

Sunburst snapped back to sincerity. “Oh! I-I do! I just-- what I meant was--”

“Gotcha!” Soarin laughed heartily. “But you know you’re gonna have to hear the story again, right? Since you teased?”

Sunburst sighed wearily. “I know it."

"Let's leave the storytelling for after your shift, huh?"

Soarin twisted at the waist, ears pinned to his head. "S-sorry, Mr. Joe!"

Donut Joe waved his cleaning rag at Soarin dismissively.

Soarin turned back to his friend. "I'll be back."

"It's your last shift," Sunburst said softly. "He's not gonna cut you a break?"

"It's cool," Soarin said, scooting out of the booth. "I'm still getting paid, aren't I?"

Sunburst chuckled lightly, but said nothing. He watched quietly as Soarin went back to work.

He was graceful, now. Noticeably so. Sunburst remembered, not long ago, when Soarin moved about the diner with all the poise of a newborn deer. Now he seemed to glide over the tile floors with ease, even as he balanced trays and dishes and coffees on his wings.

He did it all with a smile. Easy-going. Relaxed. At peace, almost.

Sunburst smiled. He returned to his book.

Donut Joe's closed at sundown on weekdays. It was practically the only time the stallion wasn't working.

The sun sank low on the horizon.

The customers thinned.

Sunburst remained.

At long last, the final customer of the night stood and gathered her things. She did so slowly, without thought. She dropped a few bits on the table.

"Have a nice night," Soarin said, flipping a chair up onto a nearby table. "Come back soon!"

She gave Soarin a polite nod as she left.

The bell tinkled once more, and Donut Joe was quick to flip the sign to 'closed'.

"Alright, kid," Joe said with a heavy sigh. "Good work today. You have a safe trip home, alright?"

"Will do, Mr. Joe." Soarin was a little breathless from moving chairs.

"Let's lock up, alright?"

Soarin paused.

He looked to Sunburst for a moment, as if in fear. We were only just getting started, he thought.

Sunburst stared back, the same worry mirrored in his wide, bespectacled eyes.

Joe, as pastry-focused and… youth-distanced as he may have been, recognized the look the young stallions shared. He would be lying if he said he hadn't shared that look with many a stallion himself over the years.

He sighed. "I'll lock up," he said. "You two hang out a while longer. Make sure you leave out the back-- kitchen door locks behind you."

Soarin's eyes lit up. Sunburst adjusted his glasses.

"Hm." Joe sniffed. "Don't eat anything, either."

"Y-yes, sir."

"Yes, Mr. Joe."

Joe stood there another moment. He nodded-- not to the colts before him, but to himself. "Alright. You boys take care."

Soarin swallowed. "You too, Mr. Joe."

They watched quietly as Joe left. The bell above the door hardly rang out at all before the door was pulled shut and locked tight.

Soarin flicked his tail.

The donut shop was quiet.

It was an interesting place. Not quite a bakery, not quite a restaurant, but rather something caught remarkably in-between. The best of both worlds, one might say.

Soarin had never thought about that until just now.

"That was nice of him," Sunburst said softly. Very softly, in fact-- as if he were afraid to raise his voice.

Soarin looked to his friend. "Huh?" He shook his head. "Oh-- yeah. Nice."

Sunburst put his hooves in his lap. "Um… do you wanna come sit?"

Soarin shuffled his wings against his sides. "S-sure!"

He trotted over to the booth, any sign of grace or poise having vanished in an instant. His wings seemed to be actively fighting against him as he clambered into the seat across from Sunburst.

Sunburst cleared his throat. "So…"

Soarin didn't know where to look. "So."

Silence fell over the table.

It was strange. On a normal day, they could hardly oil themselves away from one another, carrying on a conversation one sentence at a time while Soarin buzzed about the place.

Now, with all the time they wanted, it was… different.

At once, the young stallions looked up at one another.

"You were going to tell me--"

"Oh, you haven't told me about--"

They each paused. Sunburst put a hoof to his mouth.

"Uh…" Soarin drummed his hooves on the table. "You first."

"No, no! You first," Sunburst said. "I insist."

Soarin let a nervous smirk play on his lips. "Okay. Um… you haven't told me about your book yet today."

"Oh!" Sunburst cast his eyes down to the book on the seat next to him. "It's… it's not very interesting."

"Oh…" Soarin folded his hooves in his own lap.

Sunburst hesitated a minute, then said, "you were going to tell me about your cutie mark." He swished his tail against the vinyl seat. "Remember?"

"You've heard that story before, Sunshine," Soarin said. "I won't make you hear it again."

Sunburst's ears dropped. "Oh. Okay."

Another silence.

Quiet in a place like this was different than quiet anywhere else. This was supposed to be loud, busy, bustling-- a feast for the senses.

In the quiet, it felt different than I ever had before.

Being alone was different, too.

It was hard. Clumsy.

Before Soarin had gotten his cutie mark, flight was about effort. There were rules to follow, positions to hold, form to perfect. This was like being sent back to the time of forced perfection.

For Sunburst, very few things were effortless. Everything was an uphill battle, but especially magic.

This--their little talks in the diner, their friendship, their whatever-it-was--may have been the only effortless thing for either of them.

And, now that they were alone, that ease had vanished.

Sunburst took a deep breath. "I was sure you were going to get your cutie mark in food," he said, with an unusual haste.

Soarin blinked. "Uh… you did?"

Sunburst laughed, and the sound was strangled. "I dunno. I guess I just-- you've done really well here," he stuttered. "At least, I thought you did."

"Yeah?" Soarin sat up a little straighter.

"Of course," Sunburst said.

It was coming easier now.

"I mean-- thanks, Sunny." Soarin ruffled his feathers a little. "But it was always going to be flying, y'know?"

"Tell me about it," Sunburst requested. "Again. I don't mind."

Soarin snuck a little lop-sided grin. "Well…" He rubbed his chin, as if trying to think of where to begin. "Well. You know I do a few laps around the city at night."

Sunburst nodded. He reached for his tea.

"And I guess I'd been really focused on staying in shape, right?" Soarin said. "Like… I dunno, I needed a break from the academy, but I didn't wanna lose any progress, y'know? I just needed a… a change of pace, I guess."

"Mm-hm," Sunburst murmured into his tea cup.

"Even though I'd come all the way to Canterlot to get away from the academy, it was still all I could think about any time I flew," Soarin continued, gesturing harshly with his hooves and wings alike. "The way I held my wings, the way I angled my primaries, the way I fought against the wind. It was all stuff my instructors had told me to do."

"You'd never flown without that before, had you?" Sunburst asked.

Soarin's ears pricked. "Uh. No, I guess not," he said. "My parents are both unicorns, so… they sent me to a professional to learn to fly."

"Wow…" Sunburst frowned slightly. "That's… wow."

Soarin shrugged. "I dunno what it was," he said softly. His wings were falling away from his sides as he spoke, and his eyes were focused on a distant point in the night sky. "I think I just realized that, for the first time, I was flying for myself. Or at least I… I could be."

Sunburst watched his friend's face.

"Actually, that's not true-- I know what it was," Soarin said, looking back at Sunburst. "It was your book."

Sunburst paused, then chuckled. "I haven't heard this part of the story before."

"You read me that part about magic for pleasure," Soarin said. "Remember? About… magic for magic's sake, or something?"

Sunburst cocked his head. "Recreational magic?" he suggested.

"Yeah!" Soarin's face lit up. "About how-- how unicorns learn to use magic as a tool, but how babies haven't learned that yet… right?"

"Newborn foals use magic as an automatic process," Sunburst explained. "It's usually activated by emotion, but it can be utilitarian if--"

"Emotion! Yeah!" Soarin clapped his hooves together. "That's what it was! It was like… it was like I didn't even have to think about it anymore. It was just happening, because I… I felt it. Y'know?"

"You felt what?" Sunburst asked.

Soarin shook his head. "I dunno…" he whispered. "Like-- ugh. Like when you're on a roller coaster, and your stomach drops. I felt that, but not my stomach. My… my chest, I guess."

Sunburst, without thinking, lifted a hoof to his own chest. He imagined that tight feel of acceleration, and he swore he almost felt it.

"I never would have thought that if you hadn't read me your book," Soarin said.

He said it as if it were nothing. Easy.

"I mean, who knows? I might never have gotten my cutie mark without you, Sunshine." Soarin laughed lightly. Like a bell. "Pretty crazy, huh?"

But Sunburst wasn't laughing.

He held his hooves close to his chest, his mouth a tiny 'o'. He was staring at Soarin with glassy, sparkling eyes. His glasses slid slowly down his snout, but he made no effort to adjust them.

"Whoa." Soarin's face softened in an instant. "Sunny, are you-- what is it?"

"I don't think I…" he whispered, barely more than a breath. He sniffled. "I don't think I've ever felt that."

Soarin's face fell. "Oh. Oh, gosh, Sunny. I--"

"I already have my cutie mark," Sunburst continued, tears tightening his throat. "And-- and magic is still so hard. Do you think I'll ever feel that? Do you think I missed it?"

Soarin couldn't get a word out. Not even a syllable.

"I-- oh, gosh." Sunburst dug his hooves deeper into his chest, the fur swallowing them up. "I did miss it, didn't I? I did!"

"N-no!" Soarin said. "You didn't miss it!"

"But you--" Sunburst drew in a sharp breath. "You're done! You're finished! And you felt it, and I… what if I'm stuck?"

"What if you're-- what?"

"Stuck," Sunburst breathed. "What if I'm stuck at the beginning forever and ever? What if you've reached the end, and I'll just be here at the starting line forever? What if--"

"Sunburst."

He sucked in a breath and bit down on his bottom lip.

Soarin was breathing heavily. His own eyes sparkled with something distant and sad.

Slowly, hesitatingly, Soarin reached across the table. He laid his hooves over Sunburst's, then carefully pulled them away from his chest.

There it was. The acceleration.

"You're not stuck," Soarin said. He said it firmly, and he squeezed his friend's hooves as he did. "And I'm not done!"

Sunburst was struck silent.

Soarin hung his head. "I mean, c'mon Sunny-- I only just feel like I've caught up to you, for pony's sake," he said, notes of melancholy laughter weaving their way through his words. "I'm right at the beginning. You are, too."

The speed. The power. The weightlessness. Rushing at Sunburst, making him rise from his seat--

"We've talked about this so many times, Sunny!" Soarin continued. "Why… well, what's different now?"

Sunburst blinked.

Soarin did not remove his hooves.

"I…" Sunburst's hooves twitched. "You're leaving."

Soarin sat back a little. His hooves withdrew.

"The summer's ending," Sunburst continued. "And you had this… this thing happen to you, and I feel like I'm exactly the same."

Soarin pulled his hooves back a little more, until they separated. "But--"

"And I've been exactly the same for years, now!" Sunburst put his hooves over his eyes. "And if this didn't change me--when it changed you so much--what is it going to take?! How will I ever make it to the end?!"

“Sunny, stop!”

Sunburst bristled, even cringed a bit. His hooves withdrew even further.

“You’re--” Soarin tried, but he couldn’t find the words.

He didn’t know how to say I know exactly how you feel. I still feel it.

He didn’t know how to express that feeling that the two of them were from the same stock-- that their talents didn’t come naturally, that they had to work and sweat and toil and study and force it to happen. That, even now, Soarin partly dreaded the thought of going home.

At least, he didn’t know how to say it without it sounding like a lie.

It was hard.

It was hard to sit here, face to face, feeling like the beginnings and the endings were all out of order, were frayed and interwoven and impossible to untangle.

It was hard to explain how Soarin felt like he was at the beginning of his journey, when Sunburst saw the confidence of somepony at the end.

And it was just as hard for Sunburst to see what Soarin saw-- a stallion who had put years of work and study into mastery, yet still felt like an inadequate beginner.

It was hard to see that they had more in common than they did dividing them.

Sunburst slumped back into his seat. The vinyl hissed under his weight.

Soarin cleared his throat. “Tell me about your book.”

Sunburst closed his eyes. He looked as if he were holding back something truly awful. “You don’t want to hear about my book.”

“I do, though,” Soarin said. “I always do. Every day.”

“You don’t want to hear about it today,” Sunburst grumbled, eyes still closed. “You really don’t.”

“I do.” Soarin nodded to the book on the seat. “C’mon, Sunny. One more time.”

Sunburst sighed heavily. He didn’t lift the book, just sat there with his eyes shut and began to soliloquize: “It’s about the nature of mastery and competence. In any learned skill, there are four stages to becoming competent in that skill: unconscious incompetence, conscious incompetence, conscious comp--”

“You’re just reciting from the book,” Soarin said. “Tell it your way. Like you always do.”

Sunburst peeked out as his friend through one eye.

Soarin sat there, attentive, his hooves folded politely on the table like a perfect little student.

“When you study something,” Sunburst began, thinking over each word very carefully, “you learn a lot about it before you ever master the things you’ve learned. You’ll know what good spellwork should look like before you can ever accomplish it. You’ll see and understand what good form should be before you can ever maintain it. It’s part of the learning process.”

Soarin nodded silently.

“The problem with that is… well, whenever you learn something new, you’ll hit this snag of knowing exactly what you’re doing wrong, seeing how wrong and bad it is, and yet not having the skill to adjust,” Sunburst continued. He was staring down at his own hooves as if they were entirely foreign to him. “The really sad thing is that, no matter how hard you study beforehoof, you’ll never be able to jump right in and do things well. Students are doomed to experience the defeat of knowing their flaws, yet being incapable of fixing them.”

Soarin’s brows furrowed. He waited patiently for Sunburst to continue, but nothing else came.

“That’s not sad,” Soarin said.

Sunburst looked up, equal parts exhausted and annoyed.

“I mean-- sure, it’s frustrating, but I don’t think that’s sad at all,” Soarin said. “I think it’s kinda nice.”

Sunburst scoffed. “Please enlighten me as to how this is a ‘nice’ thing.”

Soarin shrugged. “I feel like it’s always a good thing to know that somepony else is going through what you’re going through,” he explained. He said it so simply and nonchalantly, as if he himself thought it held almost no value. “It’s kinda cool to know that the ponies at the academy had a hard time learning to fly, too.”

“What’s sad is being stuck before the defeat,” Sunburst said softly. “What’s sad is studying every day, hours and hours, and just being so terrified to even try that you… that you just don’t.”

It had never occurred to Soarin that Sunburst might not have been a great wizard.

How would he have known? They had only ever talked here, at the donut shop. They had only ever shared their studies. They had never shown off. They had never given a demonstration. When could they have?

Sunburst put his head down on the table. He took his glasses off and laid them out beside his snout. “If anyone-- if anything could have helped me get up the courage to try, it would have been this,” he whispered. He put his hooves over his eyes. “And it didn’t. I’m still stuck. I still don’t know my own incompetence.”

There was quiet.

Sunburst’s mind was strangely still. That sort of meditative stillness that comes of vomiting up your every thought and feeling in one go, leaving nothing behind to yell and wail and carry on. Only a blank void remained, waiting patiently to be populated by more worries.

The first to pop up was the worry that Soarin would feel guilty for leaving.

Then, after that, the Soarin wouldn’t like him anymore at all.

Then, that this conversation would only thrust him deeper into that state of terror over being inferior. Pushing his happy ending even further away.

Just as these began to happily multiply, Sunburst felt something press into his side.

He lifted his head, suddenly sitting up ramrod-straight.

Soarin was beside him. He wasn’t even looking at him-- he was looking out the window, into the darkness of the summer’s night sky.

Sunburst drew in a shallow breath. He couldn’t think of what to say.

“You could try something now,” Soarin said.

His feathers were soft--softer even than they appeared--as they brushed gently against Sunburst’s side. His face was gentle and stoic in a way that Sunburst had never seen; Soarin most typically wore a goofy grin and glittering, mischievous eyes. This was so… understated.

Sunburst gave a small, wry laugh. “Yeah. Right.”

“I’m serious,” Soarin said. He stretched his opposite wing over, brushing his primaries over Sunburst’s heart. “I know what it feels like, now. I can help you feel it, too.”

“It’s not about feelings!” Sunburst argued. “It’s-- it’s--”

“It is when you do it for yourself,” Soarin said.

Sunburst closed his eyes. He seemed, once again, to be holding back whatever it was he truly wanted to say. As if it were fighting its way out from behind his teeth.

“Think of the best spell you ever cast,” Soarin murmured. “The one that felt the best, y’know? Even if it wasn’t perfect or good or right. The one that felt the most right.”

It was funny-- he didn’t even remember what he had tried to cast.

Whatever it was, it had come out wrong. Of that he could be almost entirely certain. But it was probably the first and only time that he felt like a conduit for something greater than himself. Like a being of true magic. Like a wizard. Like a unicorn.

It had felt like bubbles popping against his skin. That was the best way he could think to describe it, or even remember it. Like being submerged in a chilly bath of champagne.

And it had smelled like fire.

“Feel it here,” Soarin directed, swirling his primaries through the soft fur on Sunburst’s chest. “And make it as big as you can.”

The gentle carbonation grew to a jet stream. Then to a rolling boil. Then to something else entirely-- like the fuzziness in the air right before a lightning strike, the kind that makes your hair stand on end.

“When you’re ready, let it out.” Soarin removed his wing and gestured to the room before him, though Sunburst certainly couldn’t see. “The best part is, since you’re doing it for yourself, it can’t be wrong. Right?”

Had Sunburst been able to answer, he may have had something to say about that.

But the feeling was fizzing over.

Soarin watched as golden magic began to ooze from Sunburst’s horn. It was a deeper, richer, shade than he’d ever seen it, and it dripped like honey down his forehead and his cheeks and into a puddle on the table.

It smelled like orange blossoms and cinnamon.

Soarin reached out a tentative hoof, and let the magic flow over him.

It wasn’t like any magic he had ever seen or heard of. It felt like his own giddy and breathless laughter after a successful aerial maneuver. As it bubbled and steamed off of his skin, it smelled like the anticipation of a first drop on a rollercoaster. He swore he could even hear, in its far-off and magical hum, that sense of divine weightlessness at the top of a skyward arc.

Sunburst let out a long, slow breath. The magic stopped dripping from his horn, though it remained there on the table, threatening to slide off onto the floor.

Soarin wondered what Mr. Joe would think if he found a puddle of sunshine on the tile floor in the morning.

Sunburst opened his eyes, and his breath hitched. “I-I did it!” He looked to Soarin, his eyes wide. “What did I do?”

Soarin laughed. “I dunno, dude!” He dipped his hoof in once more, and the compacted memories of a hundred summer evenings rushed into his chest once more. He could do nothing but eke out more breathless laughter, in awe of the sight before him.

His laugh sounded precisely like the bell above the door, Sunburst thought.

Sunburst began to laugh along.

Comments

[Ice Star]

Goodness, your body language skill in writing is subperd. A lot of writers really neglect making sure the ponies feel like horses. It's really well-played here.