A reinforced-porcelain bowl piled high with ice cream and toppings was placed, with a distinctive clink, on one of Sugarcube Corner's booth tables.
"All right, then: that's one nine-scoop Neapolitan sundae with choco-caramel-de-leche syrup, almonds, peanuts, gummy bears, and our special new rainbow-sprinkle-infused whipped cream!" The apron-clad, blue-skinned and pink-haired caterer who had just served the sundae looked at Pinkie Pie, who'd been sitting in the booth and looking at the bowl with the world's most wide-eyed, ecstatic expression. "I'd warn you to be careful tackling this monster, but I feel like that'd be insulting at least one of us."
"Awww, Mrs. Cake," Pinkie said, with a good-natured dismissive wave. "You could never insult me with ice cream or concern for my well-being!" She looked back at the sundae. "Though I'm... gonna need a bigger spoon."
"Good call. Coming right up," Cup Cake said, walking to the supply counter at the front of the diner.
Pinkie picked up her regular-sized spoon and let out a slow gasp towards the ice cream—then shifted her head to the side so she could direct one more gasp to a waiting Sunset Shimmer, who was sitting on the booth's opposite side. "This... is all for me?" she asked.
"Yep," Sunset said, beaming. "All for you."
"But..." Pinkie pored over the full-to-bursting bowl. "No one's ever put all my favorite sundae sweets in one big sundae before! Not even me."
Sunset blinked, not quite sure how to respond to that. "Wait, really? I thought that would seem like a no-brainer."
Pinkie shrugged.
"Well, dig in. Like I said, this is all for you." She leaned back in the booth with crossed arms and a cocksure smile. "And if you want any more toppings, all you have to do is ask."
Pinkie brought her spoon close to the bowl. "Aren't you going to have some?" Pinkie asked.
Sunset shook her head. "Nope. I'm not going to steal a bite. I just want to watch you being happy." She swiped her silverware to one side.
The sundae did look good enough to demolish, and there was certainly enough of it for more than two people to reasonably consume. But Sunset had already decided she could not, nay, would not—mainly because she could practically see the love gushing from Pinkie's cheeks in heart form right now, and she wanted to preserve that look forever if possible.
Especially after what she'd done earlier. Especially after who she'd been earlier, and knew she never wanted to be again. Who knew that rogue Equestrian magic could actually teach her real lessons once in a while, as opposed to simply putting her world and life in danger every few months?
"Awwwwww, Sunset," Pinkie purred, "that's the best-diddley-est of you!" She raised her spoon, ready to dig in with marvelous force...
Then hesitated. Her smile slowly turned into analytical, suspicious pursed lips.
"In fact, it's... more than the best, isn't it?"
Uh-oh. "Uh... w-what do you mean?" Sunset asked, shifting her eyes around the diner, doing her best to stay as aloof as possible, and failing miserably.
Sunset watched with an inward panic as Pinkie set down the spoon, and put on her jacket. Pinkie met Sunset's eyes, her own a mix of worry, disappointment... and the slightest hint of betrayal. She left the booth, walking to the door.
Crap.
"Pinkie, wait!" Sunset desperately dug for cash to pay for the dessert, finally plunking a few bills on the table. It was far more than even the price of the three triple-deluxe sundaes combined together that made up Pinkie's already-melting bowl, but she didn't care. More important matters were at stake.
Namely, an entire friendship.
"Pinkie, hold on, please!" Sunset rushed out of the booth, following Pinkie Pie outside. "I can explain!"
Sunset followed Pinkie as the latter strode around the corner. After some time of this, Sunset's impatience finally won out, and she grabbed Pinkie's hand—making sure to do as gently and non-confrontationally as possible, but still firm enough to be felt. "Pinkie, I swear, it's not what you think."
"Are you sure it's not?" Pinkie said, stopping, but not turning around. "Think carefully before you answer."
"I..." Sunset sighed. Thinking carefully would not get her anywhere good right now. But nor would her saying everything she wanted to.
Pinkie finally turned around to face her. "Sunset, every single one of my favorite ingredients was on that sundae. Even extra-creamy, extra double-whipped cream with rainbow sprinkles embedded inside, which is not a topping I've ever thought up! I wish I had! How did you, even?"
Sunset put a hand behind her head. "Mrs. Cake and I might have put our heads together on that one." It wasn't a helpful answer. It didn't stop Sunset from wanting to sink into the floor. But it was... something?
"Well, you did great. I love it. I'll get my own sometime." With a sad sigh, Pinkie went on. "But it's always the same story: the easiest and quickest way for a big dessert to get plopped in front of me... is when someone is feeling guilty towards me." She stepped towards Sunset. "Problem is, I don't remember anything for either of us to feel guilty about towards each other! What is it, Sunset?" Pinkie's expression was near-desperate now. "What warrants nine scoops? How bad did we get?"
Sunset looked at Pinkie's wide eyes, which showed some fear of what was to come, for sure—but more so, confusion and hurt. And all three, Sunset knew, were connected, and playing off of each other. At this point, keeping secrets would hurt Pinkie far more than telling Pinkie would hurt either of them.
Her decision made, Sunset leaned against the brick wall beside Pinkie. "Okay. You got me. You remember the whole time loop thing the PostCrush concert revolved around?" she asked, spinning both fingers around each other.
"Of course I do! It was just yesterday, after all. And yesterday." She counted on her fingers. "And yesterday, and yesterday, and yesterday, and yesterday, and yesterday, and yesterday, and yesterday, and yesterday, and yesterday, and yesterday, and yesterday, and yesterday, and yesterday, and yesterday, and yesterday, and yesterday, and yesterday, and yesterday, and yesterday!" She laughed.
Sunset laughed, too, despite herself. "Wow, I... can't believe how mathematically correct that was."
"Meh. Twilight's not the only genius in our group." Pinkie shrugged. "I was working with universal improbabilities way before she showed up." Turning serious again, she added, "But yes, I do remember." She stepped towards Sunset again, placing a gently hand on her shoulder. "Did something bad happen?"
Sunset looked away.
"Please," Pinkie said, "you can tell me. I won't get mad."
"It's..." Sunset bit her lip, crossing her arms in a self-hug. "Actually not that I'm worried about. It's just... this is so weird, is all. I wish I didn't feel like I needed to bring it up, but..."
Pinkie smiled. "Sunset, I eat weird for dessert. You're in the best company anyone could have for this." She placed her other hand on Sunset's shoulder to match. "And you're mine. What's wrong?"
A pang hit Sunset's heart as she giggled and blushed at the same time. She truly wished those lines didn't make so much sense in the moment. Finally, through pursed lips, she exhaled in defeat.
Sunset took a long time to hesitate, before taking just as long to gather the nerve to speak. "You know how you and I were in perfect 'chaotic' sync during all of yesterday?" she asked, making air quotes with her fingers.
"Of course! It was the best!" Pinkie's grin showed teeth. "I don't remember anyone really... getting me like that. Especially for so long—like, a whole day!" She leaned against the wall, sidling next to Sunset. "It was really nice, you know?"
"Yeah. It was nice for me too." Sunset took a deep breath. "But it also only happened because, well, the Time Twirler gave me a whole lot of tries to get that day right. You included.
"The truth is, we were actually out of sync for most of those loops, including the very first one. Really out of sync." Sunset gestured back and forth with her hands. "You were so impulsive, and I couldn't keep up, and somewhere out there in the big wide infinite space-time-continuum, there's a timeline where I..." She lowered her head. "I blew up at you. Hard. I made you cry, and run away from me. All understandably, of course."
Pinkie stayed silent as Sunset continued. "The paint, the water, the churros, the ejections from the park... I let it all get to me, even though in the grand scheme of things, that stuff is... well, just stuff. Due to how the Time Twirler works, that timeline may not even exist anymore, or at the very least is so far out into the multiverse that we'll never have to worry about it again. But it still exists in my memories." Sunset buried her head in her hands. "And in those memories, I remember being the worst to you. Pinkie, I'm so sorry."
A long silence hung over the two of them—and after a while, Sunset decided that it had lasted too long. She uncovered her eyes to see Pinkie wearing... a happy smile.
Her usual smile. That smile.
She liked that smile, but it wasn't what Pinkie should have been wearing right now. It wasn't what she wanted Pinkie to be wearing right now, it wasn't what Pinkie needed to be wearing.
"Awww, Sunset, that's nothing to feel bad about!" Pinkie said, in her usual bubbly, reassuring voice. "Everyone gets heated or frustrated, and we were fighting Equestrian magic on a day when we just wanted to have fun!" She bounced on her toes, adding, "I'm sure Timeloop Me knew all of that, and didn't take it personally or blame you. So, it's all okay—"
"No!" Sunset no longer felt like beating around the bush. "It's not okay, Pinkie! Don't you get it?"
Pinkie clamped up again, though she still held her smile. Sunset felt bad about that too, but she wasn't about to back down. Even if it meant condemning herself, she wasn't going to stop and watch Pinkie do what she always did in this situation!
Not when Pinkie deserved better.
"Pinkie, none of that stuff matters. The Equestrian magic, my frustrations, none of it! What matters is that I got mad at you for being yourself. For being who you are. And who you are did not deserve anything I did or said." She gripped her shoulders. "You shouldn't have to take that from me, or anyone! Do you hear me?"
Another long and hesitating silence happened, until Pinkie broke it. "Sunset."
"Yes?"
Pinkie's smile finally disappeared, and she met Sunset's eyes, speaking in a soft, level voice.
"Just because I'm myself doesn't mean I'm perfect."
Sunset's mind spun. This was the last thing she'd ever expected to hear from the mouth of Pinkie Pie, of all people. She was now quite glad she'd held off eating any of that huge sundae, because she'd definitely be dizzy.
"Wha..." Sunset gaped. "Pinkie, what are you talking about? I don't ever want to hear you say that about yourself again, you hear me?" She gripped Pinkie's arms, holding back tears, doing her best not to assume the worst too soon. "You are perfect. Just the way you are. Just because people can't handle who you are, just because I have trouble sometimes, is no reason to tell yourself— "
"Stop," Pinkie said, her tone still soft and muted. "Please, just stop."
Sunset's arms dropped. Again with the unexpected responses. Did destroying the Time Twirler mess with her position in the multiverse? Was she talking to a different Pinkie Pie right now? Would she have to call the Twilights in on this?
Pinkie's sigh was loud and long. "I don't know exactly what I was like back there—during all those days when the concert went badly? But I can guess. I was probably super loud. I probably ran around a bunch. I was probably super impatient and knocked a lot of stuff over, got us splattered, made a nuisance of myself for you. All that, on top of getting us kicked out. How close am I?"
Sunset didn't reply, putting a hand behind her head to avoid saying anything. Upon doing so, she realized that that was probably saying something in itself. She quickly put her hand down, hoping Pinkie wouldn't notice, but Pinkie's tiny, lopsided smile a moment later told Sunset to drop that fantasy.
"It's not like I don't know what all my actions are, or what they can do to people," Pinkie said. "But I still do them because... because there's a whole lot to smile about in this universe, but there's also a whole lot that's not, and the not stuff is easy to get hung up on!" Pinkie gestured around herself. "And those things are everywhere, you know? I can turn on my phone and see someone having a bad day in five seconds, and they're someone I can't help because they're all the way across the country from me, or even just a different school, or because their problem is way more than some high school girl with an infinite supply of cotton candy can fix. And it..." Pinkie hugged herself with one arm. "It hurts too much, after you see enough of them."
Sunset still didn't reply. She was still too busy trying not to cry.
"So I go the extra mile to protect my smile," Pinkie continued. "And those of my friends, however I can. And I keep moving, from one joy to the next, so I'm not forced to pay too much attention to the smiles I can't help. Maybe it looks selfish. Maybe it gets messy. But I haven't found a better way to deal. Not yet.
"But moving so fast?" She closed her eyes, balling her fists by her side. "Also means I don't notice when it hurts someone close to me—which it always does—until it's too late. I'm sorry it was you this time, Sunset. It means I failed. In protecting your smile, and just... being all the good things I know I can be, too."
No.
No, no, nonononononononono.
Sunset's mind spun harder. She stopped trying to hold her tears back. Because no no no no no this was all wrong too. If Sunset could drive her head into the brick wall behind her without any lasting effects, she would have in a second.
Why was she so bad at this?
The guilt washed over again, covering her heart like a freshly dumped bucket of sludge. "Oh, Pinkie," she said, her voice cracking. "Just..." She took hold of Pinkie's arms again, bringing her close. "Oh my gosh, come here, please, I was so afraid of this. I never should have brought this up, but now I've screwed everything up, all because I felt guilty as usual."
"What?" Pinkie said, her voice shaking as well. "No, Sunset, I messed it all up. Or I mean, I would have if not for the time stuff? Ugh, you had to use time magic to cheat being mad at me! This is exactly why I don't..." She shook her head, pulling away. "This why I don't talk about this stuff, Sunset. Because that hurts people, too!"
Pinkie looked up, her eyes pleading, her voice half a sob. "I don't want to hurt you, Sunset. I don't want to hurt anyone. But no matter what I do, no matter what I try, I..."
"Listen to me, Pinkie Pie." Sunset shook her head furiously, teardrops flying from her face. "You could never hurt me. You'd literally have to not exist for that to hurt me, because life would suck without you here with me. Okay? I was the one who hurt you because I'm impatient and I didn't get what you were going for by just trying to put a smile on your face, and being ungrateful about it, and—"
"No, Sunset, no!" Pinkie's raised voice, cut Sunset off. "That's not what I mean! Don't you get it?"
"What—" Sunset tried as hard as she could to decipher Pinkie's words, but in the end, she had to ask: "What do you mean?"
"What I mean is, look at yourself right now! You're apologizing for being yourself, too!" Pinkie sniffled, rubbing her eyes. "And you're apologizing for not being me. Do you know which one's worse? Because I don't. I just know it's all my fault."
Except for the part where she knew she could answer.
Where she knew she absolutely had to answer, with the bitter truth that she hated to admit and would rather run away from, forever, while eternally doing her best to make sure it never came up again.
But running just made her more and more tired.
And cranky.
And now, here she was, all over again.
"I'm used to being ashamed of myself," Sunset whispered. "I can take it."
The resignation felt almost relieving for Sunset in its catharsis—it was finally all out in the open, now. Infinite apology for who she was, for who she'd been, for whoever she would become.
Her past was not her present, and that was all well and good—but was her present worth bragging about if it couldn't weather the love of a friend?
So, yeah. She was okay with it, she reminded herself as she closed her eyes. She really was. She had to be. As far as she was concerned, she'd lost all license to be anything but a self-apologist long ago.
Odd how she wanted to cry, now, but no tears came when she bade them. That was how it always worked, wasn't it?
Sunset didn't see Pinkie step forward, closing the gap between them, and only barely felt Pinkie embrace her. She opened her eyes upon feeling contact, meeting with a tearful stare that was also trying desperately to be motherly....
...and, against all odds, succeeding.
Sunset's face crumpled as she fell into Pinkie's arms. Both girls leant against each other, choking and sniffling.
"This was supposed to be an easy apology," Sunset croaked. "Why isn't it?"
"I've never heard of an easy apology," Pinkie said.
"Well, this should be!" Sunset cried. "There there's nothing complicated about this! Pinkie Pie, you're my best friend and I love you so much."
"Me too," Pinkie whimpered in reply. "Everything you just said."
Sunset pulled back, revealing a tear-soaked face. "And I love it when everything lines up with us! I want that to happen all the time! But I hate myself because it doesn't! I hate myself because I know it can't, and you deserve better than me!"
Sunset's raised voice echoed off the brick walls, surprising herself... and yet, Pinkie appeared unfazed. Why?
"But... I don't want that," Pinkie whispered.
Sunset blinked, her heart doing a double take. "You... you don't?"
Twin trails of tears crossed both sides of Pinkie's smile. "All of my friendships are messy, Sunset. That's how I know, when they last this long, that they're real." She smiled wider. "And this is the really realest mess I've ever been in with a friend. Sure, we're in sync sometimes, Sunset, but I see even non-chaotic friends who don't always line up. So I don't expect us to. I don't want us to."
Pinkie thumbed Sunset's tears away from one cheek before placing a hand on it. "I love Sunset because she's Sunset, not some... Pinkie clone. I mean, can you imagine, me having a whole bunch of friends who were all just like me?" She gigglesnorted. "That doesn't sound like any fun at all."
Sunset giggled back, or at least tried to amidst never-ending hiccups. The sun rose in her mind, peeking over the horizon. If she understood what Pinkie was getting at...
"So you're saying, sometimes we make bad decisions. Or at least decisions that make us fight. But running away from the messes when they happen..."
Pinkie nodded. "That way lies blowups. And guilt sundaes."
Sunset sighed, looking away. "I... I've made so many bad decisions for so long that hurt a lot of people too. But they weren't because I was hoping to make them happy, like you."
She looked back up to Pinkie in earnest.
"That's why I'll always want you here. Will..." she fidgeted, looking for the right words. "Will you help me tell the difference?"
Pinkie's smile was as big as the sunrise in Sunset's mind. "Of course, silly! Always." She reached out to take her best friend's hand. "Oh, and Sunset?"
"Yes?"
Pinkie winked. "Apology accepted."
Through tear-filled laughter, Sunset Shimmer threw her arms around Pinkie Pie, voicing the only three words running through her heart right now:
As Sunset and Pinkie walked back into Sugarcube Corner, Sunset checked the time on her phone, then checked the hours posted on the door of the diner. "You sure they'll let us stay?" she asked. "It looks like they'll be closing in a few minutes."
"It's me. It'll be fine." Pinkie grinned. "I'm worth way too much as a customer and an employee."
Sunset chuckled. "Okay. I'll re-order your sundae, then. For helping me out and all."
Pinkie shook her head. "Nope."
Sunset stopped short. "Huh?"
"Nope." Pinkie walked to the counter. "Oh, Mrs. Caaaaaaake?" she called to the blue woman who was currently stacking ice cream versions of her namesake from the front showcase into the rear vertical freezer. "Can we get a do-over on that sundae from before? Only, uh, normal size, and split the scoops across two bowls, and I'll be paying this time?"
Sunset gasped. "What? Pinkie, you don't have to—"
Pinkie turned to Sunset with an even wider grin. "Don't have to. Want to. Sunset, you just showed me one of the best weekends of my life. I'd have done this anyway. Besides, we still have a teensy bit more to talk about."
While Sunset wondered what Pinkie meant, Pinkie led her to the same booth they'd sat in before. However, Pinkie stopped Sunset before she could sit.
"I know what you're thinking," Pinkie said.
"Oh, good." Sunset rubbed her forehead. "Because at the moment, I'm not sure I do."
"I mean, what you're really thinking, deep down inside. You're still scared of what to do next time I do something that frustrates you, even though I've said that being frustrated with me is okay."
Sunset nodded and sighed in agreement. "Yeah, that's fair. Voicing my frustrations instead of keeping them in, or using a punching bag, is... still a new thing to me." She shook her head. "But I want us to make this work. How do we make this work?"
"Duh. By trusting each other," Pinkie said, as if it were the simplest and most obvious thing in the world.
"But I already trust..." Sunset trailed off as Pinkie's hands rested on her shoulders.
"Your whole life has been about changing yourself for the better. Becoming the best you can be. I want to do that, too," Pinkie said. "It doesn't mean I have to stop being me. I can't make everybody happy just because I want to. But when the happy things do happen, they'll mean even more. I'll have even more to celebrate." Pinkie's cheeks flushed red, and her voice softened. "Happy things like me having a best friend willing to go through the same day over and over again, so I can have a smile on my face too."
Sunset's cheeks tinted to match.
"You don't have to fight time and space for me, though. Just... let me know whenever you're not smiling. And, most importantly, if it's because of something I did."
Instantly, Sunset started to speak. "But I don't want to make you—"
Pinkie pressed her index finger to Sunset's lips.
"I will be fine," she whispered. "I always have my own smiles to spare, and a million ways to bring them out in me... and in you. If one way doesn't work, it just means I try another." She winked. "If you keep your frowns in, they always find a way out, in the worst ways, and no one's happy.
"But you telling me what does and doesn't work for you? Telling me where the lines are? Is the only way I'll learn how to keep those smiles on you." Pinkie stepped closer. "Inside and out."
And again, Sunset could see and feel the ironic sunrise imagery in her mind. Was Pinkie Pie, the girl who always had a literal spring in her step, and an infinite number of snacks in her hair, always this insightful, and Sunset and the other girls had simply never known it?
Equally valid question: did Pinkie even know?
"So. I trust you to always tell me, and you trust me to be okay with it. Does that work for you?" Pinkie asked, her finger still on Sunset's lips. "Nod if that works."
Sunset nodded.
"Sweet," Pinkie giggled, darting forward to give that selfsame finger a quick kiss, then removing it from Sunset's lips as they both blushed deeply again, certainly enough for Sunset to feel it. "Are we good?"
At that moment, Mrs. Cake came by with two full sundae bowls, and placed them on the table. Sunset's stomach growled as she looked at the ice cream and toppings, and she and Pinkie both giggled.
This was definitely better than apology by way of starvation.
