Signed, Sealed, Sent

by starcoder

Ripped, Returned, Resent

I growl, a C# escaping my throat and coating me in a warm amber color.

And I hate it.

I keep staring at the box, dented and bruised, as it glares at me. I want to glare back at it—only, I know what the voice inside my head would say: "Boxes don't glare, Rem." She, the annoying voice, ends with a pink G3, and it feels like she's tricking me into thinking she's sweet. As is the box.

But neither of them are.

I walk up to it and kick the stupid red being again, tears streaming down my face. I urge them to go faster—hurry up, goddamnit—yet my tears want to stay on my face for as long as they possibly can. I scream, a bright red E5, and pick up the box, breathing heavily, ready to throw it at my poor wall.

But.

I don't want to destroy my wall. It's a pretty nice rainbow gradient with every note there.

Oh, there I go again. Calling her Twi. That old pseudonym, as she liked to say.

I walk up to and open the box again. I'm sweating, maybe from the heat, or maybe from the anxiety. Whatever it is, I hate it. It reminds me of when the AC unit broke and I had to sing in the key of C# minor while the fan was humming a D, the yellow reminding me of a constant heat while the D# clashed perfectly with it.

Of course, how could I forget Twi, who was singing—no, screeching—in an off-key, annoyingly purple, B major. At least she got the D#. Wait, maybe that's a bad thing.

The song, Counting Stars, pops into my head again, and I curse myself. I'm not turning the fan on anymore.

I take out the one piece of paper I dreaded having to ever see again. I rip it into four sections, although the message is still super clear:

Dear Sunset,

I don't know how to say it. I always shied down from saying it.

Always.

But, I decided, there had to be a day on which I actually did it. On which I actually would say it. Of course, as you can probably tell by now, I still shied away from saying it in person. So I sent you this package, and this confession. And, as much as I want to delay saying it, I... love you.

Do you... share the same feeling as me? Please let me know.

Please?

Best regards,
Twi.

I read the paper over and over and over again until my head is swimming and I groan, blue beginning to surround me. I feel tired and annoyed and I just want to get this all over with so that I don't have to deal with Twilight ever again.

No, Twilight, I literally hate you. Why the hell are you asking me if... if...

You know. I don't want to finish the thought. I just need to get away.

But.

What about the box? Do I want it here, where I'll have to face it all the time? Or would I rather touch something that's probably been touched by a couple other people, my enemy included?

Oh, who am I kidding?

I let out a blue sigh, the pretty A note ringing through my ears. It's so calming—yet, I feel like I'm carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders. But I throw the weight off of my shoulders and use my strength to instead push the box out of my house. With my feet.

And, no.

They're not bare, thankfully.

I take a breath. I let out an amber sigh, a color in between red and orange. A note between C and D.

A C#.

I have to do this eventually. I pick it up—it's gross; I have short-sleeves on—and take it to the house Twi used to live in. I'm hoping she still lives here. I drop the box on her doorstep, and I hum F#, G#, and B, creating a swirly combination of Twilight colors.

As soon as I hear the purple B, I'm reminded of the last time I was at her house: five years ago.

---

Sunset Shimmer skipped along the road, carrying a box of art supplies, humming a tune she was practicing for choir. Indigo, magenta, then a quick dash of purple. Like her outfit, and the colors of the hair of the girl's house she was walking up to. If anyone was watching, they would think nothing could dampen her high spirits.

Though, there was something that could. For some reason, that thing was the very house she was skipping up to. As soon as she reached the doorstep of the house, a breeze blew by and ruffled her hair, like a scene from a story. She dropped the box, knocked on the door, and walked away peacefully.

Soon enough, the door opened, and a little girl about Sunset's age picked up the box. She peered out of the door, still standing inside, looking for the person who dropped it off although she was gone and they both knew it.

But the girl needed her.

---

I drop the box, the world silent. As soon as it escapes my hands, I get dizzy. I see stars. I count them. Five of them, each for the amount of years it's been since Twi and I have last met up outside of school.

Soon enough, they fade away. No more stars. Zero, for the amount of things I've done right. Zero, for the amount of friends I have. Zero, for the amount of times Twi has done something nice to me.

But.

So far the only nice thing I can count is the box. And I hate that. So that counts as zero nice things, right? I take a deep breath, knock on the door, and walk away calmly. But, to my dismay, she answers the door super quickly. I try to act as if I don't know she's here, and hope she doesn't call out for me.

"Uh, hi."

Too late.

I turn to face her, and our eyes lock, our breaths both stopping in unison. She smiles. I frown.

As she walks towards me, she says, "Sunset, I—"

"Hate you!" I shout automatically. She's shocked. I have no idea why.

My left hand flings up to my chest whlie my right hand sits by my hip. It looks as if I'm going to do some sort of taekwondo punch, only, my hands aren't in fists. They're open, as if I want to clamp my mouth shut.

But I don't want to. I really do hate her.

But.

She looks heartbroken. And, for some reason, it hurts.

For all the times she's broken my heart, I always wanted to get back at her. I always wanted to break her heart. So why did this hurt so much?

"Sorry, Twi," I say. I hate my miserable voice that's somehow probably better than the way my idiotic face looks right now.

She nods, not sure of what to say. "You're... different?" She says it like a question and not a statement, ending it with a confused, grayish B♭.

I start my sentence with a bright D# to go with the B♭. At least they go together, unlike the song and the fan. "I'm as I always am. Why?"

Twi asks, "Isn't your hair shorter than usual, Sunset?"

"No, it's always like this. Why?"

"You just seem different, Sunset Shimmer," she says softly.

"Enough calling me Sunset," I groan. Amber on "Sunset."

She gapes, then soon closes her mouth. I have to admit, it's pretty cute. But also confusing. What doesn't she get? "What should I call you, then?"

"Rem. As always?"

"What?"

"Rem, R-E-M, Rem. Like Remmi? Remnant? Remember?"

She doesn't get it. "When have I ever called you Rem?"

I sigh. Indigo F#, to match the sky nicely. "You don't remember?"

"Very funny, Suns- I mean, Rem. But seriously."

I've had enough. "Always!" I shout. "You've always called me Rem! You gave me the stupid name, and for some reason, I was an idiot and I liked the name."

"What?"

"You're right. As always," I breathe angrily. I look around and realize that the sky is F# level dark.

Her gaze softens while mine gets colder. "Rem," she says, as if giving a presentation to the stars. It's not for me. It's for the stars I can't count. "Rem, I'm sorry."

I look up. "For?"

"I dunno, I mistook you for someone else. I'm sorry, I just—"

"How?" I shout, calming down just a few seconds right after I say it. "You 'mistook [me] for someone else,' yet you called me by my full name. Why do you always have to be mean to me?"

She sobs, "I'm not! I tried giving you gifts and talking more nicely to you than you've been to me! What did I do wrong?"

"EVERYTHING!"

I turn around and run, and I don't even care that I can hear quick footsteps hit the ground not far from me. As I reach the porch of my house, I suddenly stop. Twilight bumps into me, holding onto me so she doesn't fall. "You haunt me like a ghost," I whisper so quietly I can barely hear myself. But I think she can hear me just fine.

"Even when you left in high school, you haunted me. Your laughter reminded me of how depressed I was, your glasses of how dumb I was. Your singing was horrible, yet I somehow remember every note of it. You can only imagine how happy I was when you first moved away.

"You made me feel stupid when I was a kid. You did all the work, and it made me look like a slacker even though I wasn't. You were popular and I wasn't, and I hated you for the influence you had on the other kids. It's like you were a magnet, pulling them towards you and away from me. And I was alone, despite your voice constantly nagging and haunting me.

"I... hated you."

She breathes back, "It kind of hurts to be hated."

"As I was?"

"Yeah, I guess."

We sit there together, on my front porch, staring at the stars, and maybe even counting them. I know I was. I look at her hair. F#, G#, B.

She hums a happy indigo F#. "I'm sorry for whatever trouble I've caused you, and for the trouble you're going to experience after I show you who I was talking about earlier."

I nod, a soft white D# escaping me.

---

I skip with myself. And my enemy. Wait, I take that back—former enemy. I like to consider us friends now.

And, I can't believe it, but I might just love her. Like, as a friend, I suppose. Although I definitely won't let that get away from me and destroy Sunset and Twilight's relationship. I mean, they've already made out and I've only just made amends.

I apologized to Sunset for the crushed box, assuring her that nothing inside was ruined (and, yes, I taped the note, so it doesn't really count as ruined).

We sat down at my front porch, and Sunset opened a small box of chocolates. Although it was more like chocolatey crumbs. "Legend has it that the stars will aid in her escape."

"What esca—"

I'm bear hugged, on the right side of two other people. "This one," Sunset answers.

I look up at the stars, counting the ones I'm sure I've already counted a million times. I wonder which stars Sunset's talking about.

Twilight chuckles, "I don't think I need the stars to help me out. It's just you, and you're weak."

"Hey!"

I laugh, a C# escaping my throat and coating us in a warm amber color.

And I love it.

Author's Note:

Here are some references (click them seperately) because why not:
Synesthesia and Perfect Pitch

And the key I used (Apparently some colors are not normal😭):
C = Orange
C# = Amber
D = Yellow
D#= White
E = Red
F = Green
F# = Indigo
G = Pink
G# = Magenta
A = Blue
B♭ = Gray
B = Purple

Comments

[Axolotl222]

That ending made me feel all C# and amber-colored inside.

[TheGJ90]

This feels like a uniquely written alt-universe fic. But, is it an alt-universe though? The fact that I don't know for sure even after reading the tale is interesting to say the least!

[starcoder]

11679064
Not even I know

[property]

11679303
Well, no one knows for sure then)

[FanOfMostEverything]

Fascinating take on human Sunset, and it raises the question of whether her analogue experiences the world similarly. And it's funny how Twilight keeps running into iterations of this girl. A thoroughly enjoyable read. Thank you for it.

[EileenSaysHi]

This was definitely quite a strong entry. It starts off on a somewhat oblique note, deliberately so, and becomes a bit of a mystery, in the sense that the reader has to figure out exactly what the narrative being told here is. The solution, as indicated by some of the other reactions I’ve seen, may be a bit tough for some to decipher, but I did figure it out — and once I did, it was nice to then go back and reread the earlier section with the new insights. And on top of that, this is just a really nicely written piece in general, with a lot of touches like the musical notes that add a lot of flavor to the reading experience.

[Bicyclette]

I drop the box on her doorstep, and I hum F#, G#, and B, creating a swirly combination of Twilight colors.

aww, great way to use the synesthesia here. in the skin of the narrative i feel very attuned to the colors in this world

Soon enough, they fade away. No more stars. Zero, for the amount of things I've done right. Zero, for the amount of friends I have. Zero, for the amount of times Twi has done something nice to me.

oof! that self-hatred Rem does have in common with the Sunset we knew

My left hand flings up to my chest whlie my right hand sits by my hip. It looks as if I'm going to do some sort of taekwondo punch, only, my hands aren't in fists. They're open, as if I want to clamp my mouth shut.

But I don't want to. I really do hate her.

But.

She looks heartbroken. And, for some reason, it hurts.

For all the times she's broken my heart, I always wanted to get back at her. I always wanted to break her heart. So why did this hurt so much?

"Sorry, Twi," I say. I hate my miserable voice that's somehow probably better than the way my idiotic face looks right now.

and this! the whole sequence after this just feels so teenage angst, truly inhabiting it in a way most depictions i see cannot, i love it

I turn around and run, and I don't even care that I can hear quick footsteps hit the ground not far from me. As I reach the porch of my house, I suddenly stop.

that their houses were so close to each other this whole time they’ve not been in each other’s lives really adds to Twilight forgetting about Rem and the inverse

We sat down at my front porch, and Sunset opened a small box of chocolates. Although it was more like chocolatey crumbs. "Legend has it that the stars will aid in her escape."

"What esca—"

I'm bear hugged, on the right side of two other people. "This one," Sunset answers.

hehe, love this use of that line. of course to pony Sunset it would be like riffing on a Bible verse, a reference so ingrained it feels like a part of Ponish itself

---

vivid, unique, and memorable. thanks for writing!