Breaking Into Spring
Sitting in a cafe is the sort of gentle beginning to a romantic story that Rarity often pictures herself in.
Staring back at the sun that peers through the window, lost in thought while the noise falls into the background like a breeze underfoot, Rarity can see the climax from here where her love breaks her heart because he thinks it would hurt her less.
She sips from her paper cup, and as she looks over it, she doesn’t see a cute boy look back at her. She sees Rainbow Dash.
That’s when Rarity gets the feeling today won't end with the sort of love-song-and-credits-roll that she's looking for.
“This car is as fake as you.”
“Well, yeah, we’re both cheaper that way,” Rainbow reasons. She pats the ceiling of the car. “Right, Cali?”
The car, of course, doesn’t answer. Rarity does. “Well, you said it. Not moi.”
“Hey man, do you really think you’re one to talk? Aren’t you, like, the queen of fake?”
Rarity scoffs at that so fast she chokes on the air that glides in through the half-rolled window. “I beg your pardon?”
Rainbow gives the road ahead a challenging look. “Oh, don’t you even, dude. You're frickin’ plastic.”
“I am a diamond in the rough!” Rarity practically demands. “I am the ever changing folly of the fools - “
“What’s that even mean - “
“ - and I am most certainly not a bad imitation of a 1999 Cadillac driven by a football fanatic.”
Rainbow raises the hand she wasn’t using to drive anyways and counts on her fingers. “Okay, first of all: with your fake-ass accent I can’t tell if you mean soccer-football or rugby-football. And second of all, Little Miss Caked-Up-Makeup: it’s a 1979 Cadillac. And third - ”
“I am done!” Rarity announces loudly, over Rainbow Dash and the wind. “I am now turning up the radio and turning down the window.”
“ - I’m on third, it’s the best point - “
“Windows going down!”
Amazed the car doesn’t use a crank handle, Rarity pushes down on the button with as much sass a single finger can and lets the roaring winds and their yells roll over her and drown Rainbow’s probably poorly worded third point.
She announces her next move -- “Now turning the radio on to something I’m certain you will hate.” -- and does so, as Rainbow takes the liberty to crank the volume until they don’t know if the highway winds are louder or the weird EDM track.
Rarity shuffles through the stations until an inoffensive acoustic track plays. She humphs at Rainbow once -- though she’s not sure it’s heard -- and stares out the window.
So, basically, she’s back to where she was this morning, except that instead of sipping tea she’s drinking vitamin water bought from a gas station, and that’s not fresh ground coffee, it’s a scent so plain it’s nothing at all, and this isn’t the beginning of a pleasant rom-com, it’s the climbing action in a poor b-grade adaption of a YA book series.
Three hours and over a hundred miles later, and nothing has happened yet -- which cements the entire ‘poor b-grade movie adaption of a book’ theme.
Well, that’s a bit unfair. They did stop by that gas station after Rarity complained, and left soon after she complained more. But Rainbow did pay for the aviators Rarity’s wearing now, and for the snacks that are now crumbs between the seats.
“But why?” Rarity finishes out loud. When Rainbow doesn’t answer, she looks over and asks again, louder, “Why all this?”
Rainbow makes the face she does whenever she’s asked a dumb question. “I told you, dude. I just wanted to skip town for a day, and you just hang at that dumb cafe-for-coachella-girls every day this month, so I figured you needed to get out too.”
“It’s called a morning routine,” Rarity informs her as she turns down the radio. She feels like talking right now, not listening.
“Pfft, no. Your morning routine is probably two hours of makeup with a small sacrifice made to His Romanticness Ryan Gosling.” Rainbow smirks at her own joke, but Rarity takes it as a sacrilegious affront on a very good idea. “But yeah, I’ll be straight with you: I didn’t know you last year, but do you just creep that place every day of April?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Rarity says, because explaining things would mean understanding it herself, and that’s half that problem.
Rainbow then says something Rarity would've missed if she wasn't looking, and when she prompts her on, Rainbow just shrugs and says, “Nothing, dude.”
Something about that just gets to Rarity, like a really annoying itch. “Oh, you’ve been generous with your words thus far. Why hold back now?”
“I just said it’s probably some weird chick therapy thing or somethin’,” Rainbow bites out, and Rarity suspects she’s not glaring at the road that way because she has to.
“I don’t see why you’re suddenly angry at moi, but I think you should calm down. I don’t want you to start road-raging in a car that just might fall apart for no apparent reason.”
“I’m not raging, man.”
“You’re shouting.”
“I’m not shouting!”
“That’s shouting!”
“Oh my God!” Rainbow snaps, throwing both hands out and shooting Rarity a dirty look. “Why are you even like this?”
“Like what?!” Rarity shouts, definitely not because she’s angry, but because the wind is loud. She blames that on Rainbow probably speeding subconsciously.
Rainbow grabs the wheel, and the car jerks a bit with it. She shoots the empty freeway a passing glance and then closes it on Rarity. “I invited you on a drive, you gave me a frickin’ earful, I buy us snacks and those big-ass sunglasses and you just whine, and now you’re bitchin’ me out because I - what, I asked you a question? I think you need to stop starting girl drama with everything and act normal for once.”
“Oh,” Rarity starts with an acerbic laugh she can barely hear herself. She rolls up the windows as Rainbow looks back at the road, which is infuriatingly unfair. “Oh, I’m not normal.”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Rarity knows fighting isn’t what a lady does. She also knows how to throw a good punch, verbal or otherwise. “I’m not the one who pushes the whole dude-bro image because I lack confidence in who I am to such a degree I couldn’t be alone for two God-forsaken minutes.”
“What the hell kind of comeback is that?” Rainbow bites back. “This is why I say you’re weird. You push this whole image of your own, and it’s like in your head you’re some leading lady in a cheap chick flick and you talk and act so - so - “ Rainbow stutters, then settles on “ - not-normal. Chill out for once, dude.”
She’s tempted to play dirty, because if Rarity knows one thing, it’s how to pick out insecurities. But some part of her decides otherwise. “Well, I’ve never forced my presence upon you. Might I remind you that it was you who came to moi with your little half-baked plan.”
“Well you didn’t have to come,” Rainbow says, less angry and more bored. Rarity takes it as an end-of-discussion.
“Well I did. And you can sit there and - “ Rarity pauses, considers, and figures she may as well go on and say “ - and bitch at me about bitching at you or whatever else seems to bother you ever so much, or we can sit quietly until you take the next exit and get us home.”
“Fine!” Rainbow says, and so begins their settlement of silence.
In place of their arguing is the sound of the radio phasing in and out on a channel that still plays the most generic acoustic tracks. Rarity thinks it’s as plain as the road they’ve been driving up and as pointless as the trip this has been.
When Rarity wakes up, it’s as if she hasn't fallen asleep at all: same fake Cadillac burning rubber on the same beaten road to the sound of the same station playing the same song.
“Dear God I hate spring,” Rarity sighs in one breath as she pulls her glasses off and stretches.
A little late, like a beat missed, Rainbow mumbles, “What?”
“Nothing.”
“What’d you say?”
Rarity gives in. “Pull over.”
Rainbow doesn’t. “No.”
“Pull over.” Rarity tries to adjust her position in the tight space. “I need to stretch and God knows how long you’ve been driving because your fake clock can’t even work right.”
Rainbow clenches her jaw, blows through her nose, and grumbles as she turns on her signal for no one within a mile to see. “Fine.”
As they pull into the shoulder and slow down, Rarity thinks she maybe shouldn’t wake up just to make fun of Rainbow’s car and demand things. So she adds a, “Thank you, darling.”
Rainbow doesn’t say anything, just shifts into park, unlocks the door, and slumps grumpily against her door.
“Oh, you get on out now, too,” Rarity says as easily as possible. “You’re the one driving. I don’t want you to give out and drive us into a ditch.”
“Fine,” Rainbow grumbles again, checking over her shoulder before unbuckling and clambering out.
Rarity steps carefully out, avoiding any stray glass on the ground, and walks a few steps away and over the short metal rail onto the stretch of pebble-and-dirt. She takes her time to stretch out her sore bones and breathe in fresh air.
After a few minutes, she sways in place to look around: as far as the eye can see is unkempt forest that lines the highway. The wind picks up around her every so often, carrying with it the smell of spring.
Rarity catches Rainbow out of the corner of her eye, sees her chuck pebbles against trees. She decides that she’d better go speak to her, if only to finally move past the most boring part of this movie.
“I’m - “ she stops as Rainbow whips a rock. She coughs, and Rainbow drops the other rocks she held. “I’m sorry. I have a habit of complaining at times, I can admit.”
Rainbow cocks an eyebrow. “At times?”
“I’ve extended the olive branch, don’t go throwing rocks at it.”
Rainbow rolls her eyes, sighs loudly, and drops against the rail. Rarity hesitates, then decides her skirt is probably covered in crushed crumbs anyway and sits beside her.
“I’m sorry I was an asshole about you being an asshole,” Rainbow says dryly. “But everything I said is still true.”
“Oh, I never took back a word of my own,” Rarity remarks with a smile. “Which leads me to ask: why drive out to nowhere and bring moi?”
Rainbow shrugs, and looks back at her car. “I told you, man, I wanted to take Cali outta town. And you know you’re the only one who’d just up and hop on board with something like this.”
Rarity takes it as a compliment. “You could have gone alone. Saves you the arguing.”
With a wry grin, Rainbow turns back to Rarity. “Could’ve. But - I dunno, the others were all like, talking about how it was April and you get all gloomy and that. Thought I’d do us both a favour.”
“You really can’t stand to be alone,” Rarity comments.
If it bothers Rainbow, she avoids it. “And you really can’t stand - like, spring solstice? The sun? I still don’t get it.”
And so comes the monologue, Rarity thinks. And though she really isn’t in the mood for it, she goes for it anyways. “It’s not like that. I don’t - don’t dislike spring, I just get stuck whenever it comes around.” She frowns. “I get stuck in a mood I can’t get out of, I suppose.”
Rainbow peers at her curiously. “But isn’t spring the season of coming back to life and all? Inspiration and new clothes and Coachella and all that?”
“You know, you seem to see me in a very narrow clique.”
“You fit in it.”
“Have you even count how many times you say ‘like’ in a sentence?”
“So - “ Rainbow starts in a way of changing subjects “ - you get, like -- crap -- like, post-winter depression?”
“No,” Rarity says, then, “maybe. It just - for me, spring feels like new beginnings and the start of great things. And yet, mine is the same every year, and it’s the same throughout as well.” She kicks at the pebbles, then regrets the possible damage to her shoes. “Perhaps I simply want change to come with a change in season, and when it doesn’t, I just feel thoroughly disappointed.”
The words hang between them for a minute, not even a breeze to sweep them away. Saying them, hearing them, doesn’t change anything. Rarity isn't sure she expected that.
“I mean,” Rainbow says without warning, “it kinda makes sense, but it’s still weird.”
“I could say the same for you and your way of naming faux cars.”
Rainbow squints, one eye smaller than the other. “Eh, maybe. But, hey, all this was different, right? Finally getting away from your ice frap or whatever.”
“No.” Rarity shakes her head with a smile playing at her lips. “Not at all.”
“What-ever, dude.” Rainbow pushes off the rail and makes her way to the car. “Let’s just get going before you start a crying fest on me.”
“Oh, you’re so very kind and understanding,” Rarity calls out behind her as she follows in suit. When they’ve buckled up, she adds, “I do wish you’d at least hug me. Maybe you’d feel less lonely yourself.”
“Gag.” Rainbow sticks out her tongue as she drives the car back into the lane. “Dude, don’t even. I bet you sit in that cafe and romanticize every little moment of it.”
“I do not.” She does, but she’s allowed to lie. “And I’ve decided I’m rolling the windows down again and turning up the music before you bring us to blows again.”
Without waiting for Rainbow’s response, Rarity pushes the button and slips on her aviators in one deft motion. Rainbow takes the hint and pumps up the volume.
So that afternoon doesn’t have Rarity with her legs up on the dash while the wind dances in her hair and the radio plays a song with lyrics she doesn’t know but a melody she can’t forget. But it does have her out of her depth, which is more than she can say for most April days.
“You know what?” Rainbow shouts over the radio fuzz. “Spring is dumb anyways. It can’t decide between rain and snow and sun -- kinda like you.”
“Love you too, darling,” Rarity says, reaching a hand out to touch the fake roof. “Love you too.”