FRIDAY, AUGUST 25, 9:41 AM
I’ve folded and unfolded this letter so many times that the ink has started to smudge off onto my fingertips. Every time I open it, I mutter a small prayer that all the text has disappeared — but my hope crumbles when I see those same solid black words, formed into single-spaced rows of self-pity.
What if I rip it up? Tear it into a million pieces and toss them out the bus window? It’d probably be for the best — today’s rehearsal is already going to be so busy. No need to distract everyone with my nonsense. It can wait. Forever.
“Just so you know,” Twilight says over the bus engine’s roar, “I brought a second copy.”
I turn and frown at her. “Why?”
“In case you lost this one,” she says with a gesture toward the weathered sheet in my hands. “Or tore it up. Or dropped it in a puddle. Or ate it.”
“C’mon. I’m not Spike.”
“I know! But still.” She shrinks into her seat a bit. “Can you tell that I don’t like playing Bad Cop?”
“You’re not a cop. You’re just keeping me honest.” Which means she’s more of a miracle worker.
She smiles. “For what it’s worth, I think you wrote a really nice letter.”
I just nod, try to return her smile (I don’t think it works) and then flip open my letter again. I wrote it out so I wouldn’t forget anything, but at this point it’s carved into my brain. Even after Twilight’s edits — she cut out at least three paragraphs begging the girls not to hate me and offering excuses for why they shouldn’t listen to me, and replaced them with tiny notes reminding me to breathe — it’s still pretty pathetic.
To my best friends,
I want to start by saying how much I love and appreciate all of you. You’ve changed my life in so many wonderful ways, and I can never thank you enough for that. Without you, I’d still be a miserable bully, or worse.
But I’ve had some stuff on my mind lately. And you’ve taught me how great it feels to talk about my feelings instead of letting them boil over. So here goes.
(Take time to breathe! We’re all with you! ♡)
When we fall into an Equestrian magic situation, everyone looks to me to figure things out. But when I talk about my regular, everyday life — the shows I like, my artwork, even my plans for the future — it sometimes feels like you don’t hear anything I say. I love hearing you all gush about your favorite albums and movies, and I’m always happy to be a shoulder to cry on if you need it. But when I need someone to listen to me, I usually just get a few nods and a smile.
Like you all forgetting my Halloween costume, even though I explained it a dozen times. Or Rainbow writing that song way too fast, and not caring when I complained. Or Fluttershy bringing Wallflower to the festival without telling me first. Or all the times when you’ve joked about me turning into a demon, usually after I get even the slightest bit upset. And yeah, I laugh along sometimes too, but it still makes me feel like shit.
(Breathe. Focus on the words. You’re almost done, you’ve got this.)
I haven’t said anything because I didn’t want to seem whiny, or ungrateful. Like I said, being friends with you girls is the greatest gift in the universe. And I don’t want to ruin that. But I’m more sensitive than I seem sometimes. And I want our friendship to go both ways, not just one. So please, listen to me, and think about my feelings a bit more. That’s all I need.
I really hope you’re not offended by this, and we can still be friends. I love you.
~Sunset
I fold the letter up again and try to steady myself, but then I see their faces, twisting in anger and shame when I read my letter. I’m basically stabbing Pinkie Pie, my best friend, the nicest girl in the universe, in the back. And how is Fluttershy going to take it when I literally call her out in front of everyone? It’s gonna break her.
I’m such an asshole. I could’ve just sucked it up and rolled with the punches. But I’m a whiny mess, and now I’m going to pay for it. Good work, me. They’re definitely not going to care about me once I read this.
I can’t do this. I can’t do this I can’t do this I can’t I can’t I can’t.
Twilight tries to wrap her hand around mine, but I’m gripping my knee too hard, so she just sort of presses her palm into my knuckles.
“I’m not ready for this,” I say, trying to loosen my grip.
“You are.”
“I’m really not!”
“You really are times one million!” she says, shaking my hand around. “The girls love you so, so much. And letting them know how you’ve been feeling will only make them love you more.”
“I don’t want to make them do anything.” I groan and flop forward, hugging the guitar case wedged between my knees. “I want to go home and sleep. Forever.”
Twilight furrows her brows, purses her lips. Then, a grin: “What if I give you one of my patented Twilight Tips for Public Speaking?”
“I’d have to ask why you didn’t give me these tips last night, when we were practicing over the phone.”
“Hey, a cute autistic girl like me can’t reveal all her secrets,” Twi says, turning up her chin. “Also, I wasn’t expecting you to be quite so nervous. Maybe I should have brought some Xanax, too.”
“That’s an Equestrian villain name if I’ve ever heard one.” I sit up again and turn to her. “So, public speaking tips. Hit me.”
She claps her hands, does a little shake, and pulls a tiny blue notebook from her backpack. When she opens it, all I can see are dense lines of cursive, tight enough to fit on a grain of rice. She flips through the pages, somehow deciphering the scrawls, until she reaches a bulleted list.
“Here’s a great eye contact protip,” she says, underlining one of the bulleted sentences with her finger. “If you can’t handle looking into someone’s eyes, look at their forehead or hairline instead. It reduces anxiety, and they usually can’t tell the difference. I do this all the time!”
“Really? I’ve never noticed it.”
“Exactly!” She snaps the notebook shut again. “And if you can’t handle that, you can just look at me.”
“I’ll probably just end up reading off the paper the entire time.” I cross my arms. “Any other tips?”
“Sure — but that was just the Twilight Tips for Public Speaking free trial. You’ll have to pay for the rest. Preferably by helping me fix my e-bike this weekend, or reorganizing my stuffed animal collection by genus. Ideally both.”
I snort. “Giving me the first taste for free? What are you, a drug dealer?”
“No, I’m an enterprising entrepreneur.” She rolls her eyes. “I swear, you offer a girl Xanax one time...”
The two of us are the last to arrive at rehearsal, almost an hour past when Applejack wanted us to. I’ve got my letter in one hand, but I clench the other tight as we walk into her barn, already prepared for her to chew me out.
But she’s not angry — not yet, at least. She greets us at the door with a beaming grin, offers us both a hug that lifts us off the ground, and ushers us inside.
As I look around, I wonder for a moment if I got the date wrong. It is Friday, right? And we rehearse on Fridays. But aside from my guitar bag, there are no instruments in sight. No amps, no microphones. Just Rainbooms, folding chairs, and party store’s worth of multicolored balloons. Seeing my friends feels like an ice cube sliding down the outside of my stomach.
Before I can say anything, Pinkie jack-in-the-boxes up in front of us and screams, “Yay, you’re here!”
Twilight makes like Fluttershy, eeping and leaping behind me. I reach behind myself to pat her shoulder with one hand, and wipe some of Pinkie’s spittle off my nose with the other.
“That we are,” I say, then tug on a nearby balloon string. “What are we partying about? New Earth holiday I haven’t heard about?”
Pinkie scoffs and puts her hands on her hips. “No, silly! Labor Day’s still a week away.”
“I know about that one!” I blurt, jabbing a finger. I might be the former student of a literal monarch, but make no mistake: Sunset Shimmer is for the working class.
Over on the other side of the room, Rainbow Dash is sitting backwards in her chair. She lifts a bottle of cider and says, “We’re partying because we just played, like, the absolute best concert ever! Why spend the day rehearsing when we’re already at the peak?”
Next to her, Rarity winces. “Please don’t say it like that. ‘Peak’ implies it’s all downhill from here. And I’d rather not peak in high school.”
Dash frowns, gears churning behind her eyes, then grins again and waves her hand out straight. “Nah, it’s a flat peak. No going down, just staying awesome.”
“So you’re saying we’ve plateaued,” Twi says, stepping out from behind me.
“That doesn’t sound very good either,” Fluttershy says.
“Y’all have gotta learn how to take a compliment,” Dash says, rolling her eyes. “I’m saying we’re based.”
Fluttershy blinks. “Based on what?”
Pinkie leaps into the air. “And I’m on third!”
Applejack pulls Pinkie back down to the ground. “The point is, we played a great show. And since our post-show celebration got” — for the sharpest of milliseconds, she flicks her eyes at me — “cut short, Pinkie and I figured it’s better late than never.”
There’s that ice cube again. I’m not sure whether to feel remorseful or aggravated.
But then Pinkie appears in front of us again, carrying a tin of steaming cupcakes. “I made treats!” she says, and plucks out one that’s piled with fiery red and orange frosting. “Yours has a strawberry-and-peach swirl!”
I take the cake from her; she reaches up to tousle my hair, and then she moves onto Twilight.
The cupcake is as heavy as lead in my free hand, and the letter in my other hand isn’t any lighter. I should be happy. Pinkie is so nice, one of my favorite people in any universe, and she cares about me. They all do, right? How can I criticize them after this? Is it all in my head? My stupid, selfish head?
“So, SunShim,” calls Rainbow, grinning. “You feeling better?”
I take a deep breath, build my smile back up, and walk over to her, Rarity, and Fluttershy. “Pretty much. Still got some stomach cramps, but my fever’s gone.”
“Thank goodness,” Rarity says.
Fluttershy stares at her lap, picking at a half-eaten slice of apple pie.
Right. Haven’t seen her since she brought Wallflower to our concert without warning me. My letter is hot in my palm.
But why should she need my permission to invite a friend to our show? She’s just a good person. I’m the jackass here, not her.
No, no! Remember what Twilight said. I’ve got a right to feel upset. I’m not just the Friendship Chick.
“I gotta tell you,” Rainbow says, interrupting my internal argument, “you picked the worst time to get sick. Summer Sunfest was frickin’ awesome.”
“Oh, yeah?” I say. I try to put on a big smile, but the memory of laying limp next to a puddle of my own puke drags it down. Hell of a choice I made!
Rainbow beams. “You have no idea. Since we were technically on the lineup, they let us skip the line for pretty much every performance. Even for Latchkey Kid’s surprise set. And when we had downtime, we got to hang out backstage with all the other bands.” Her giggles get faster as she leans forward. “Guess who I got an autograph from?”
I try to recall the Sunfest lineup poster — and my heart sinks. Please don’t mention Burnout Queens. Please don’t say you met Tinderbox. Please don’t tell me I missed my chance to meet my favorite guitarist from one of my favorite pop-punk bands. “Who?”
“Tinderbox! Y’know, from Burnout Queens?” She throws her head back and nearly screams. “Holy crap, she is so cool. Totally laid back and chill. She signed my neck!”
The cold in my stomach disappears, replaced by a boiling jealousy. I’m the one who got Rainbow into Burnout Queens — where the hell is my meet-cute with the sexiest guitarist on Earth? I feel the edges of my smile drooping, and holding them in place feels like dragging sandbags up a mountain. “No way! You’ve got Tinderbox’s autograph on the neck of your guitar?”
“Huh? No.” Rainbow spins around and whips her hair over her shoulder, exposing a smudged black scribble on the back of her neck. “I’m never washing this off!”
Rarity’s smile looks as strained as mine as she scoots her chair away from Dash. “You know, Rainbow, it’s not very polite to brag.”
You tell her, Rares.
Brushing her hair back into place, Rainbow rolls her eyes. “I’m not bragging, I’m… giving a news report. Yeah. And besides, Sunset doesn’t care. Right?”
They all look at me. Even Fluttershy. My lips are very dry.
Tell them. Tell them. You’ve got a script and everything.
I spend an endless moment running my tongue across my lips, then nod and say, “Of course.”
Rainbow simpers. “See? SunShim’s cool.”
My smile tightens. So does my grip on the letter.
“Well, alright,” says Rarity. Now she grins at me too. “In that case, I have to tell you about the fans! We had swarms of adoring admirers all weekend!”
While she delves into another story about all the amazing stuff the girls did without me, I stretch back on my chair — just enough to see Twilight, still standing near the door with AJ and Pinkie.
Twilight’s speaking, saying something about the coming school year. When she finishes, AJ and Pinkie laugh and keep chatting. But Twi looks at me.
I wave.
She waves too. Then motions to her hand.
I look down at the crumpled sheet in my fist. It’s still burning hot against my palm.
When Rarity pauses for breath, Rainbow gestures at the letter with her cider bottle. “What’re you holding?”
I lift up the paper and open my mouth — but before I can even think of my first word, a wave of panic rocks my chest, like I’m peering over the edge of a skyscraper.
Almost fast enough to rip it, I shove the paper into my pocket. “Nothing,” I say, “just a flier someone gave me on the street.”
“Thank you for taking it,” Fluttershy says, suddenly sitting up straighter. “Handing out fliers can be very discouraging when people ignore you. I know from experience.”
Rainbow scoffs at her. “I don’t get how anyone looks at you and doesn’t want a flier. You’ve got, like, the most adorable face ever.”
Fluttershy blushes and covers her mouth. “I do?”
While the three of them gush over how cute Fluttershy is (and to be clear she is cute, I’m just bitter right now) I take a bite of Pinkie’s cupcake. The frosting is sweet enough to make my teeth hurt. I hope it’s not the last one she ever bakes me.
Maybe it’s the lingering burrito poison. Maybe it’s the letter burning a hole in my back pocket. But no matter how much cider I drink or cupcakes I devour, I can’t relax. I’ve spent the last half-hour barely keeping up with conversation, shifting in my chair every minute. I swear I can hear my own heartbeat, even over Pinkie’s laughter.
We’ve been chatting, joking. Rainbow and AJ even jammed a little bit. And I want to enjoy it. This — peace with my friends, love and respect — is all I ever want. But then I remember what I have to do, and my heart speeds up again.
Is this anxiety? Or is it guilt? Is there a difference?
I tune back in just in time to hear the last sentence of Pinkie’s anecdote (“And then it turned out she wasn’t covered in blood — it was strawberry jam! Mostly!”), chuckle, then grab my plate and stand up. Another visit to the snack table won’t hurt, right? It kills some time, and as everyone knows, copious amounts of high fructose corn syrup are the solution to all ailments.
But before I can even consider what I want to ruin my arteries with, Pinkie pops up from the other side of the table. “Hi again!”
I whip my head over my shoulder and see Pinkie’s now-empty seat, right next to mine. “How did you get here before—”
“Are you okay?”
That gets me to look at her again. She’s still grinning, but not as wide as when I got here. No teeth, just a soft curve. I know this smile. It’s her ‘I Need to Cheer Up the Sad Kid at the Birthday Party’ smile.
“Yeah,” I say, casually inspecting the snack collection. “Why?”
She stays on the other side of the table, but follows me down it. “You just don’t look super happy. You’re not smiling the way you usually do!”
Guess we’ve got each other figured out. I look away, hoping that Twi is nearby so she can save me from this friendly interrogation, but she’s across the room laughing with Fluttershy.
I shrug. “Sorry. I’ll try to look happier.” I realize halfway through that this sounds way more sarcastic than I mean it, and internally kick myself.
Pinkie doesn’t react. “Did you like your cupcake? Are you still feeling sick?”
Like you wouldn’t believe.
I press my hand against my stomach. “A lil’ bit, yeah. Nothing serious. And the cupcakes are great.”
“You’re great!” she says, reaching over to tousle my hair.
Her touch sends tingling notes of glee down my neck, along my back, all the way to my toes. I can’t help but smile wider than I have all day — in days, really. She takes her hand back, but before it can reach her side, I grab and hold it in mine, savoring the softness.
I run my thumb along the lines of her palm. “You know you’re my best friend, right? And that won’t ever change?”
“Of course I know, silly!” She tilts her head. “Why?”
“Just wanna be sure. Even if I don’t always seem grateful for it.”
Pinkie rolls her eyes. “We all know. And we all love you! That’s not gonna change either.”
I chuckle and let go of her hand. “Good.”
“Even if you turn into a flying red she-demon with pointy teeth and big scary wings again.” She flaps her elbows like wings.
It takes a few seconds for me to say, “Right.”
Across the room, Rarity gets up out of Applejack’s lap — AJ looks a little sad at that — and stretches. “This has been marvelous,” she says, “but I need to get going. I have a one p.m. pedicure appointment, and one does not keep Miss Lotus Blossom waiting!”
Fluttershy raises her hand. “Oh, before you go! I wanted to ask…” And the two of them huddle for a private talk.
In the meantime, Twilight sidles over to me. “It’s now or never.”
“What is?”
“Your letter. You want everyone to hear it, right? But Rarity is leaving, and the party’s close to ending.”
The vertigo returns as I reach into my back pocket and pull out the letter. It’s barely more than scrap now, creased and crumpled without care.
Should I really do this? We’ve had such a fun party, and I don’t want to ruin it for everyone. And we jammed together! And Pinkie’s snacks were so delicious, and she told me all about how all the girls love me!
But then she made a joke about me turning into a monster again. And Rainbow spent all that time bragging about the concert I missed. And I spent the last two hours upset, but Pinkie’s the only one who noticed. Or maybe she’s just the only one who cared.
The two halves of my brain tug at each other, two hurricanes crashing into one another, throwing rain and rocks and lightning. I need to do this. But I can’t. But I have to. But I won’t.
Twi touches my shoulder. Her concern swirls into the storm, a calm breeze in the midst of the chaos.
I clench my fists, close my eyes. Then I turn to her. “I need you to push me.”
That concern twists into confusion. “Elaborate?”
“Like skydiving. I’m too scared to jump. Push me out of the plane.”
She blinks a few times — then her brows unfurrow, her mouth opens into an understanding ‘O’ shape. She nods, smooths out her skirt, and steps forward.
Sorry to put you to work, Twi. But you’re the one who wanted to be my wingman. Wingwoman. Wingdork.
“Um. Girls?” she says, voice barely a decibel higher than normal. When no one reacts, she clears her throat and tries again, this time shouting, “Girls! Can I have your attention?”
The conversations freeze. All our friends turn to look at Twilight. She cringes.
“Could all of you come over here?” she says, vaguely gesturing to where I’m standing. “Sunset has something she’d like to say, and she — we would really appreciate it if you listened.”
The girls exchange a few quick looks. Pinkie is the first one to say “Sure!” and skip over to us. The others follow a few steps behind.
Rainbow crosses her arms and leans against Applejack like she’s a wall. “What do ya got for us, SunShim?” Her voice sounds light, but I don’t know if she’s smiling because I can’t bring myself to look at anyone’s face.
Looking down doesn’t help — the floor is swirling, the edges of my vision have blurred away. The only thing that stays razor sharp is the piece of paper in my hands. I unfold it, hoping the words have smudged together into an unreadable blob, but no luck. Every pathetic complaint stares back at me in bold black ink.
I shouldn’t be doing this. Beggars can’t be choosers, and I’m the ultimate beggar, pulled sobbing out of a hole in CHS’ courtyard. These girls gave me a second chance, something I never deserved, and here I am whining for more. Even rats aren’t this greedy.
I take a deep breath, but that just stokes the nausea. I grit my teeth and try to focus, but I’m swaying on my feet, dizzier now than when I had food poisoning. All the spit has left my mouth.
“Is everything alright?” Fluttershy asks.
Twilight steps closer and whispers, “You can do this.”
A familiar pain rips through my gut. My right thumb rips a hole in the paper.
“I gotta go to the bathroom,” I say, finally managing to pull my head up.
Rarity raises an eyebrow. “That’s what you wanted to tell us?”
“No! No.” I look down at the letter, then up, then down, then up again. Then I step forward and push the paper into Applejack’s hands. “You can, um. You can read this, if you want. Sorry.”
And then I spin on my heel and bolt out of the barn’s back door. I don’t look at Twilight, and I don’t stop until I’m inside Applejack’s house and behind a locked bathroom door.
Heart pounding, I scramble over to the toilet, lift the seat, and lean over it with my mouth open. I close my eyes, take heaving breaths, and wait for the bile to come rushing up my throat — but after a moment the stomachache fades away, and all that falls from my lips are a few strands of drool.
Even with the pain gone, my heart is thumping hard enough to shake my skull. I flip the toilet’s seat and cover back down, then sit and start biting my nails.
This is how it feels to blow up your whole life, huh? To take the only good parts of still being alive and throw them off a cliff? I shut my eyes, but I can still see Applejack reading my letter to the others. I can see their faces change from confusion to anger. There’s no way my friends look at me the same way once I walk back in there. And I deserve that.
I left my phone in the barn, so I have no idea how long my panic attack lasts. But eventually I manage to take a full breath. I focus on the steady tap of the bathroom’s leaky faucet, the low hum of the fluorescent light, the muffled roar of cars outside. I count my breaths, count my heartbeats. I slow down.
Another minute passes before I stand up, walk over to the sink, and splash some cold water into my eyes. Doesn’t make them look any less baggy, and my cheeks are still splotchy red, but it feels good.
I turn to lean against the sink and look out the bathroom’s tiny window. Probably too small to climb out, huh?
The doorknob jostles and I nearly scream. “Who’s in there?” comes Granny Smith’s voice, barely audible above the sound of her fist hitting the door. “Don’t you kids know my schedule by now? I’m regular, consarnit!”
It takes less than five seconds for me to unlock the door and vacate the premises.
That leaves me standing in the dim hallway, knees together, fiddling with my fingers like I’m Twilight. I glance to the right — the house’s front door, slightly ajar, waiting for me to sneak through and run away. And then the left — the back door, leading to the barn and the consequences of my actions.
I could run away. Turn off my phone, fall asleep on the couch eating macaroni and cheese. That’d be easy.
I sway from side-to-side. Then, muttering a tiny prayer to all the human gods that I don’t know the names of, I turn left and head for the barn.
I push open the barn’s back door as softly as possible and slip inside, preparing for the wave of anger. And the girls are exactly where I left them, huddled around Applejack, staring down at the letter in her hands. When the door creaks shut behind me, they look up.
They’re all crying.
Well, all except for Applejack. She just looks sort of downcast.
But they’re not just crying — they’re sobbing. Tears flowing, snot spilling, mascara running. And I only have a second to take it all in before a wave of sadness runs through me, almost strong enough to make me cry. Almost.
Pinkie lets out a banshee wail and breaks away from the pack, sprinting forward and locking me in a hug. She buries her face in my chest, and instantly my shirt is soaked.
I look down at her as she heaves, a shuddering pink mass of sorrow, and try to come up with a response. The only thing I can sputter out is, “Hi?”
At that, the rest of the girls run over too, circling and burying me in a crushing hug. I can barely hear my own strained breath over the cacophony of sniffles and gasps. Even Twilight is there, resting her cheek on my back, just like she did all the way back at Camp Everfree. At least I have a shirt on this time.
...Okay, Sunset. If you’ve got time to make jokes, you’ve got time to think of something to say. Their emotions have flooded into me so quickly that it’s managed to drown out most of my anxiety. It feels less like I’m having a panic attack, and more like I’ve woken up at midnight to chug a gallon of coffee: My brain is buzzing, but my body is made of lead.
I try to chuckle, but it comes out sounding more like I’m choking. “I guess you read my stupid letter, huh?”
Rarity’s head snaps up so fast that drops of her wet mascara fly into the air. “It’s not stupid! Not at all!”
Next to her, gripping my arm, Fluttershy takes a shuddering breath. “We never meant to ignore you! We love you!”
Rainbow Dash lifts her head — she’s got tears pouring down her face, gobs of mucus peeking out of her nose. “You’re, like, my best friend!” she says through choppy breaths. “The coolest, magical-est, most awesome ever! I’m sorry!” And then she breaks down crying again and shoves her face into my armpit.
Applejack might not be crying, but she’s gripping me as tight as anyone. “We’re all sorry, sugarcube. I had no idea you felt this way, and I hate that you felt like you couldn’t tell us! Heck, I hate that you had to go hide in the bathroom instead of reading your letter, too!”
“I suppose it’s true,” Rarity says, wiping her eyes. “We have taken you for granted, haven't we? Always expecting you to solve every problem, have every answer — it sounds suffocating.”
“And all that ‘demon’ talk,” Applejack says, lowering her eyes. “We spend all this time yapping about forgiveness, then turn around and make jokes about the worst night of your life. We must have sounded like real pigs, huh?”
“Not anymore!” Pinkie says. All her tears evaporate in an instant. “We’re here for you! One hundred percent! No piggies allowed!”
Rainbow snorts up some boogers. “Yeah, even for the little stuff! Like, I know you’ve got killer taste in music. I wanna hear your playlists!”
“Same here!” Applejack says.
“They’re very well-crafted,” Twilight says, her head still resting between my shoulders.
“And I’m not exactly one for cartoons,” Rarity says slowly, “but I’m sure that animẽ is lovely! I could give it a try.”
Fluttershy nods. “I used to watch Fleur the Rose Warrior with my brother on the weekends. That’s anime, right?”
Twilight tenses up behind me, and I don’t need any powers to know exactly what she’s thinking: Not really, that show was made in France, it’s more of an anime imitation than the real thing…
But I nod back anyway. “Yeah, definitely.”
She’s got the spirit. I’m sure I’m in for a Twilight Sparkle lecture on the bus ride home, though.
Pinkie leaps onto me, planting her feet on my shoulders and snatching my collar for leverage. If it weren’t for the other girls surrounding me, we’d both topple over. “I’ve made up my mind!” she says, somehow arching her back even harder to put her face centimeters away from mine. “I am going to take you to the Starswirled Music Festival next month, and we are going to see PostCrush.”
Rainbow sniffles. “Tickets for that sold out months ago, dude.”
“I don’t care!” Pinkie shouts, climbing back down. She’s practically foaming at the mouth. “I’ll make it happen! I swear on my name as a Pie! I’ll sell all my stuffed animals if I have to!”
Twilight gasps. “That’s big.”
If we’d done this a week ago, I know what I’d say: “You don’t have to do that.” “Don’t worry about me.” “I’m fine.” The words are still sneaking around my tongue, trying to find their way out.
But for the first time, I can hold them back. I hold them back until they start to disappear, forced out by the sheer amount of love running through my veins. My chest is tight, I can’t stop blinking — but I hold that back too, pulling my arms free to rub my stinging eyes.
I spread my arms out to return their hug. “Thank you.”
They return the gesture, burying me so deep in love and friendship that I can’t move. I can’t tell most of their emotions apart — they’re just a warm blob of affection — except for Pinkie, jumpy like a grasshopper, and Twilight, gentle like a lakeside wave. I could pick those two out of a packed auditorium if I had to.
Ironically, our group crying session actually managed to pump a little life back into the party. We spent the next half-hour in a cathartic afterglow, sniffling and hugging and gorging ourselves on snacks. Rarity even risked missing her pedicure just to stay with us.
But all things have to end eventually. Especially after Rainbow Dash tries to stuff two dozen marshmallows into her mouth and nearly suffocates. Not the first time that’s happened, unbelievably! Girl needs to learn how to chew.
While Applejack escorts Dash to her bike — she spends the whole walk insisting she had it all under control and definitely didn’t need to get Heimlich’d — the rest of us grab our belongings and step outside.
Rarity glances at the time on her phone, gives a shrill squeak, then gives us all speedy cheek-kisses and dashes off to her car. And Pinkie is heading home on the back of Rainbow’s bike, so she’s the next to leave, but not before wrapping me in a tight hug. She plants one hand on my back and the other on the back of my head, pulling me deep into her cotton candy hair.
“You’re super-duper,” she says in the quietest voice she’s ever spoken, so low that even I can barely hear it. From anyone else, a line like that would sound like patronizing nonsense — but in her voice, it’s enough to make me tremble again. She holds on for a moment longer, then pulls back, kisses me on the forehead, and skips away.
That leaves me, Twilight, and Fluttershy. Twi is looking up the bus schedule, but Fluttershy is staring at her feet and fidgeting in place.
“You okay?” I ask.
She flicks a glance up at me, then sighs. “Yes, but I want to apologize again. I should have told you that Wallflower was coming to the concert.”
On instinct, I open my mouth — but before I can muster up a single syllable, she frowns and says, “Don’t tell me it’s okay, because it’s not. I knew you two had a bad history, and I should have at least warned you! I just wasn’t thinking! So I’m sorry.”
Fluttershy can be assertive when she wants to be, and it always startles me. Yet, I can’t help but smile. I’m a bit embarrassed, but happy too. Is this what it’s like for someone to put you first?
So instead of making an excuse, I just take her hand. “Thanks. That means a lot.”
She nods, and I know I could end the conversation here. But as much as I don’t like Wallflower, I have to ask.
“How is she, by the way?” I try to keep my smile. “Wallflower, I mean. After, y’know. What happened.”
“She’s doing fine,” Fluttershy says. Then she looks away. “Well, she was a bit shaken afterwards. And kind of upset. And mad. But she’s fine now! Really!”
But we’re still not fine.
“I’m glad she’s okay.” I offer Fluttershy a hug. “Thanks again.” She returns the gesture, then heads off to her tiny car.
A few minutes and a couple more goodbyes later, Twilight and I are on our way back to the bus stop. I’m so tangled in my thoughts, recounting everything that happened today, that I almost don’t notice Twi’s toothy grin.
I snicker. “What’s got you so hyped up?”
“You! I’m proud of you,” she says, her pitch rising and falling in excitement. “You did so great!”
“Yeah, real great.” I roll my eyes. “I had a panic attack and hid in the bathroom.”
“Trust me, there are way worse ways and places to have a panic attack. The point is that you told them about your feelings! You stood up for yourself! That’s amazing. You’re amazing.”
“Couldn’t have done it without you,” I say, shooting her a wink. “You’re the one who pushed me out of the plane, after all.”
She holds a hand over her heart. “Any time you need a shove, give me a call.”
“Glad to hear it. Because I might need another push real soon.”
Her hand falls. “To do what?”
I take a long breath. “I’ve gotta talk to Wallflower again.”
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The way you write Sunset is so uncannily relatable. This chapter was as good as it was adorable, so glad to see this story return
That bit about the Dark Lord Xanax got a big smile out of me.
The revolution will be equinized.
Huh. So I have a local playlist on eternal shuffle, and while reading this, it went from My Past is Not Today to O Fortuna. Eerily fitting.
In any case, thank goodness for Twilight... and I have the feeling I'll be saying that again very soon. Fluttershy may also want to help mediate between Sunset and Wallflower next time they meet. The question is whether Sunset will find it just as difficult to speak up there... or find it far too easy. We'll see in time. Looking forward to it.
This chapter literally made me cry like TWICE oh my god, what an emotional roller-coaster (of friendship!).
I felt Sunset's anxiety as she tried and tried to work up the courage to read her letter to her friends so deeply. It helps it was super relatable, I've def been in situations where I like BADLY needed to tell someone dear to me something uncomfortable and the wait as you try and fail to find the "right time" to tell them is always agonizing, the anticipation is always the worst part.
And the conclusion was so sweet it literally made my heart burst.
Also I adore how you write Pinkie and I love love LOVE her and Sunny's friendship in this, though it also makes me dread what's gonna happen at Starswirl Fest even more.
Great, GREAT chapter, so happy to see this fic back.
Wait, she's autistic in this story!?
God damn it Sunset.
A bit far but she's not wrong.
How kind of her.
Now, if only Sunset can do the latter on her feelings for you Twi.
I thankfully have never suffered from panic attacks, but I have been there for others who have. I don't know how anyone can get through life without that friend or partner ready to shove you ass out of that airplane.
Don't be that kind of Otaku, Twilight. Let everyone appreciate the joy of animation.
Super emotional, cute, and funny. Worth the wait!