Every relationship has a start, and sometimes that start is a little rocky.
With the end of their High School days approaching, Sunset Shimmer is forced to face the fact that she has more feelings for Wallflower Blush than simple fondness and friendship. The prospect of asking Wallflower out, though, is a daunting one.
Meanwhile, Wallflower is faced with the loss of the one good thing she's found once the end of high school comes and everyone goes their separate ways.
Written for Scampy. Cover Art by the incredible Countess Rose. Find her Twitter @CountessMRose This is a prequel to Love Deeply and its proceeding canon. Find the collected works for the SunFlower Saga here.
My foot is beating out a staccato tattoo against the concrete front walk of Canterlot High. It’s the only outward evidence of my nerves, unless you know me particularly well, which Rarity does.
“Darling, if you don’t calm down you’re going to vibrate right through the floor,” Rarity says cooly, eyeing me with a Cheshire smile.
It’s bright and sunny and bearing down on the last month of the school year, which means it’s the earliest days of summer.
“I’m fine,” I mumble.
My white-knuckled deathgrip on the stone stairs I’m sitting on beg to differ but I will be damned if anyone sees me sweat.
And if they do I’ll blame it on the heat.
Rarity chuckles and blows softly against her nails before going back to filing them.
“Honestly, dear, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this nervous,” Rarity continues. Her smile stays where it is though. “All you have to do is talk to her. You did plenty of that over the past several months.”
“I was helping her!” I growl. My temper falters as quickly as it comes on though, and I sag against my knees. “What if she thinks I’m doing this to—! I… I don’t want her to feel obligated!”
With aching slowness, Rarity lowers her hand and stares me down. Her sharp, azure eyes bore into me, and one perfectly shaped eyebrow arches skyward.
“Sunset, darling—” somehow she contrives to make that last word sound more like ‘dumbass’— “you were breaking your back for months to help Wallflower get on that housing program… every single free hour you’ve had has been spent doing that.”
“But—!”
“—and I cannot fathom,” Rarity says, speaking over me, “what kind of person could think that anyone would go to that kind of effort just to get in their pa—”
“RARITY!”
“I’m just saying!” She waves off my shout with a chuckle and flick of her wrist before turning to face me properly. “In all seriousness, Sunset, we’ve all seen how close you and Wallflower are, so I doubt you have much to worry about.”
I wring my hands and lean forward, my nerves jangling as I take slow breaths. I’ve never been this nervous about talking to someone before. Certainly not talking to someone I like!
But maybe that’s the problem.
As juvenile as it sounds, I’ve never liked anyone the way I like Wallflower.
Every time I think of her, my heart flips. It’s her shy little smile, her beautiful eyes, the way she hides her mouth when she laughs. And she laughs so seldom that it’s even more precious to me when she does.
“I’ve got it bad, Rares,” I groan, slumping onto my back against the warm concrete and staring up at the sky. “Before it was easier to be around her because I was taking care of her! I had a goal! Now I just keep thinking about how stupid-pretty she is!”
“You’ve the soul of a poet, darling,” Rarity says dryly. “Just ask her out on a date, easy as lace.”
“Where would I even take her?” I say, scowling. “If I’m going to do that I have to show her I’m serious! That I’m not just… ugh, I dunno… looking for compensation!”
“Dinner and a movie, maybe?” Rarity offers with a smile. “It’s a classic for a reason.”
I sit up and lean forward, wracking my brain.
“I don’t really know what movies she likes, honestly,” I say after a moment, then look over at my friend. “What if I get it wrong?”
Rarity sighs heavily, pockets her beauty paraphernalia, and turns to face me properly with her arms crossed.
“Sunset, really, so long as she spends the evening with you I highly doubt she’ll care,” Rarity says firmly, then her expression softens and she puts a hand on my shoulder. “You’re overthinking this, dear, just go where your heart leads, alright?”
I nod sullenly. It wasn’t great advice but it was probably the best I was going to get from Rarity, and that meant it was probably the best I’d get from any of my friends.
Not for nothing, but my friends aren’t what you’d call… romantic.
Dash has the emotional depth of a teaspoon and the libido of five-alarm salsa, so her ideas are an instant no-go where Wallie is concerned. Fluttershy is sweet but the last time she had a date she froze up with nerves fifteen minutes before they were supposed to meet and locked herself in the bathroom.
Applejack might be a good one to ask considering she and Rarity have been an item for months, but I think her advice might be too straight-forward for Wallflower. As for Twilight? I love her to bits but the human version of my Equestrian friend doesn’t have a romantic bone in her body, and if she did she might consider extracting it for study.
A~nd then there’s Pinkie.
Wallflower’s first, and so far only, experience with the Party Cannon puts the kibosh on that idea.
“I’m gonna take a walk and think about it,” I say quietly, standing up and brushing the grit from my pants as I do.
Rarity stands with me, demurely doing the same albeit with far more grace and class.
“Take your time, but not too much,” Rarity says with a wan smile. “If for no other reason than because Wallflower deserves to know how you feel about her. Lord knows that girl could use the ego boost.”
“Agreed,” I reply with a laugh.
I pull Rarity into a fond hug before stepping back and turning to start walking.
Seniors have the mornings off but, frankly, I don’t have anywhere better to go, so I’d asked Rarity to meet me at the statue to ask for advice before school started properly.
I guess I could have asked over the phone but I’ve always been better with in-person conversation. Plus, Rarity probably has one of the better heads on her shoulders between our friends not counting the times when her ‘muse’ takes over.
She can wax a little irrational then.
Overall, though, Rarity had given me good advice. It was mostly what I already knew, which boiled down to me just swallowing my nerves and actually talking to Wallflower. Hearing it from someone else, though, did help.
It’s an outside reminder that at least one other person agrees with me, and that’s cheering to a certain extent. Of course, I was hoping for an absolute answer, but life is rarely, if ever, so convenient.
The problem then becomes actually working up the chutzpah to face Wallflower Blush and not to make myself look like a total cretin.
“Dinner and a movie.” I say the words out loud as I make my way through the halls of CHS. Saying things aloud helps me focus on them, weigh them, and judge them. “It’s too… simple.”
It would be easy, sure, but would it be right?
I feel like because it’s so classic it would just give Wallflower the impression that I’m trying to avoid. I don’t want something boilerplate, I want to show her that I’m thinking of her.
As cliché as it seems, I want it to be special.
I card my fingers through my hair and wrack my brain, but for once my genius IQ is turning up nothing. For better or worse, I think I may have to face the fact that I’m not very romantic. At least, not generally speaking. I want to be romantic for Wallflower, though, because that much feels right.
She’s… soft. Wallflower is gentle and kind, and she deserves to be romanced.
She deserves for me to do this right.
“Hey!”
“AH!”
I jump back about half a foot as my vision fills with the bright, smiling face of Pinkie Pie. Her broad, toothy grin seems to take up half of her face as she giggles brightly to herself while I try to get a handle on my overreacting heart thundering away in my chest, taking several deep breaths and straightening my jacket.
“Hiya Sunny!”
“Pinkie,” I groan. “What have I told you about sneaking up on me?”
She smiles undeterred. “Well, I did call out your name like five times and then tap you on the shoulder, but you looked a little distracted.”
A tiny pang of guilt goes through me, and I grimace.
“Oh.” I sag a little and chuckle weakly. “Uh, yeah, sorry about that, then… I just… I’ve got a lot on my mind.”
I guess asking Pinkie for advice couldn’t hurt.
“Hey, Pinks, if uhm… if I were to ask Wallflower out, where should I take her?” I phrase it as easily as I can. I figure if anyone knows a few fun places to go it would have to be Pinkie Pie.
Pinkie taps a finger against her lips thoughtfully for a moment before shrugging. “I dunno… dinner and a movie?”
I hang my head. “That’s what Rarity said but it’s… it’s just kind of boring, isn’t it?”
Pinkie shrugs. “Well, she likes flowers right? Why not just ask her to prom then?”
A light bulb doesn’t so much go on in my head as it does overload the filament and pop.
“I’m an idiot,” I mumble, slapping my hands against my face and dragging them down. “I’ll just ask her to prom!”
Not only was prom right around the corner, but it’s a tailor-made date! And Pinkie is right! This couldn't possibly be better because the prom venue this year is the Canterlot Botanical Gardens!
I can’t help myself. I drop to my ass and start laughing hysterically, and Pinkie starts laughing right along with me. All of the stress and pressure I’d been psyching myself up for has been for nothing! Asking someone on a date and having basically nowhere to start from is a challenge that I’m not really sure I’m ready for, but the prom does ninety per cent of the work for me!
All I have to do is show up and look good!
Rarity has already made outfits for us all anyway, we paid a little for the materials and a lot of time for modeling, but it was worth it, Now I just…
An idea springs to mind on the heels of my euphoria.
Thanks to my old social worker, Sticky Note, we managed to get Wallflower into a little one-bedroom near the East End via a housing program and a couple of social programs for displaced teens. I was the one who helped Wallie move into the place, and her belongings were pretty sparse, to put it lightly.
She didn’t have anything like a prom dress and definitely didn’t have the money to buy one, but I’m positive I can bribe Rarity somehow. Or just pay her if it comes to it. I’ve got a little money stashed away and this?
This would be worth every penny.
I clamber back up to my feet and wrap Pinkie in a bone-crushing hug that she returns with just as much vigor.
“You’re the best, Pinks!” I’m grinning like a fool as I step back, feeling lighter than I’ve felt in days. “I gotta go talk to Rarity!”
I sprint back the way I came, out towards the front of the school. Rarity isn’t at the steps anymore, but I didn’t really expect her to just hang out. I hang a hard left and start running towards the student parking lot, and give a silent cheer as I see Rarity fitting the key to her car door.
“Rares!” I shout, waving a hand to get her attention.
She looks up as she unlocks the door, but doesn’t open it, and I’m panting by the time I get there. I stop in front of her, bracing myself on my knees as I try to catch my breath, holding up a pleading finger for her to wait.
“Take your time, darling,” Rarity says with a small laugh.
“I’ve got a plan!” I gasp out as I straighten. “But I’m going to need some help.”
“I live to serve,” Rarity says blithely, but she’s smiling.
There are a variety of things that I don’t like about school, most of which stems from the fact that I’m not very good at anything involved with it. I’ve never been particularly bright, and I’m not what anyone would call especially creative. Then there’s the fact that, ultimately, school is kind of a social experience, and the less said about my social skills, the better.
Which is why I tend to prefer the company of plants.
I feel like there are quite a few similarities between plants and I actually; we have very simple needs and are easily overlooked, for example. We also both respond questionably to praise.
I’m still not sure I believe that talking to plants helps them, I’ve never had an issue keeping the garden that rests in a small copse of trees on the grounds of CHS alive without holding anything like a conversation with them. I’m not even sure what I would talk to a row of tulips about, honestly.
The local pH level?
The consistency of squirrel droppings?
I tip the watering can over a wide and mostly-empty row of clay-rich soil I’d laid down a while ago. I planted some Delphiniums in them which are a little top heavy, so the firmer soil helps them stay upright. They started sprouting yesterday and now I’m just waiting to see how strong the stems are. If they’re not thick enough, I’ll need to put in a wooden brace, otherwise a good breeze might snap them because they’re quite fragile.
Another thing we have in common.
A couple of soft knocks against tree bark sound from behind me, and I turn as a familiar bolt of panic runs up my spine.
The panic fades and is replaced immediately with relief as Sunset Shimmer steps out of the shade of the trees and into the garden wearing a cautious smile.
Sunset Shimmer and I are a study in opposites. Where I blend in, she stands out. Where I’m cowardly and withdrawn, she’s courageous, bold, and just so… so vivid.
She’s so real sometimes that it hurts to look at.
“Hey, Wallie.” She’s smiling, and when Sunset smiles it’s a little like the sun coming out. “How were classes?”
I shrug as she moves over and kneels next to me by the flowerbed. I go back to watering the fledgling Delphiniums. Sunset just watches quietly, which is one of my favorite things about her. There are a lot of things about Sunset that I really like, but one the best is that she never expects me to talk. She’ll occasionally say something, or ask me a question, and sometimes I’ll answer if I feel like I have an answer worth giving.
But she never makes me feel like I have to, and that’s… that’s special to me.
“How long do these ones take to grow?” She asks.
“Two to three weeks, usually,” I say softly. “It depends on the soil quality, and how healthy the bulbs are.”
I thought about asking Principal Celestia if I could keep coming back after graduation so I could continue to take care of the flower garden. It’s probably the only thing I’ve ever done that was worth doing at this school. I certainly didn’t leave any other lasting impression.
At the same time, it might be unfair to other students. There might be someone else like me in the next few years that needs the solitude offered by this lonely place.
Really, right now, the main thing I think I’m going to miss most isn’t even the flowers. It’s Sunset.
After the school year ends and we’re done with high school forever, Sunset won’t have a reason to come to the garden, even if I was still here. In fact, she’ll probably be going straight into Canterlot City University to study to be something incredible and… and have nothing else to do with me, because why would she?
After all the trouble I caused her, why would she?
I scowl at that and have to tighten my grip on the watering can because my hand is starting to shake. That’s a train of thought that I don’t like even a little bit, so I push it out of my head as far as I can.
Instead, I focus, and move from flowerbed to flowerbed, watering each of the sections carefully. No one type of flower needs the same amount of water. It’s easy to accidentally drown a flower if it’s delicate enough. Roses are infamous for that kind of thing and are a lot more fragile than people realise.
It takes me a good half-hour to finish, and Sunset sticks around the entire time. There’s not really any conversation, but she sheds her jacket and hangs it from a branch so she can get down and weed some of the beds between my waterings, and I find myself sneaking glances at her every now and again.
Sunset is surprisingly gentle with plants. I had to teach her how to pull weeds properly the first few times because she was afraid she’d damage the surrounding flowers.
Now she moves with the same sure confidence she has with everything else she does, but watching her work with plants is especially charming for some reason. Maybe because it’s the first time anyone has ever gone out of their way to do something with me.
I’ll never say that out loud, though. It sounds silly just thinking about it, after all.
“Whew.” Sunset groans quietly as she stands and cracks her back before turning to me. “I have no idea how you do that for hours, Wallie.”
I laugh quietly as I set down the watering can and start gathering up all the gardening tools I’d taken from the shed in order to return them.
“It’s just about taking time, I guess,” I say. “I like keeping the garden healthy.”
“Well you’ve got way more patience than I do,” Sunset says with a laugh.
I shake my head at that, and wrap my arms around myself, shivering a little despite my sweater. I’ve always run a little cooler than normal.
“Oh I… I don’t know,” I laugh along with her, or try to. “I mean, you dealt with me all those months, so I think you’re pretty patient.”
That was the wrong thing to say, and I know it the moment the words leave my mouth by the way Sunset’s face falls just slightly. It’s not exactly a frown, but it is something very close.
“Wallie…” Sunset steps closer but I draw back.
“I’m sorry,” I say, looking down and stepping back a few more feet. “That was dumb, I… just… I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to be sorry.” Sunset closes the distance, then opens her arms. “It’s fine, I promise, okay?”
Another thing I like about Sunset is that she never touches me without asking first, even just silently. If she puts a hand out, she always does this kind of hovering thing first, like she’s asking permission, or giving me a chance to move. Or if she’s going to hug me, she’ll open her arms like she’s doing now.
I never knew how much I would like being asked until she started doing it, and I wish I knew how to tell her that I really appreciate it without sounding like a complete weirdo.
I step into her arms, though. Sunset is the only one who’s hugged me in a long time, and I’m not sure I’d be okay with it if it were anyone else.
It helps that Sunset gives really good hugs.
Sunset wraps her arms around me and pulls me close, and I settle against the crook of her neck.
“Still settling in okay?” Sunset asks as we stand quietly in the garden. “Is the apartment alright?”
I won’t tell her that I kind of hate it. That’s so stupidly ungrateful. Plus, it’s definitely better than the homeless shelters I’d been going between before Sunset had gone so far out of her way to help me get onto a housing program. So I don’t say anything about the loud neighbors, or how sometimes I’ll just leave and go walk around the Commons for a few hours in the middle of the night, and hope that by the time I’m back everyone has shut up.
Instead, what I say is: “It’s alright.”
“Need any help decorating?”
I shake my head against her shoulder. I’d had so few personal effects to bring with me that I’d been able to stow them all in the first couple of nights, even with how unmotivated I can be. It’s probably for the best honestly. If I had more belongings I probably would have just ended up leaving them in boxes for months on end.
Sunset makes a small hum of acknowledgment and rests her chin on my head. She always does that when she hugs me, and it always makes me want to stay a little longer, but then I start wondering about how long I can stay before it starts to get weird, which is immediately followed by the assumption that it’s already weird and Sunset is just too polite to say anything, and—
I step back from Sunset, shuffling my feet a little as I try to rub the redness from my cheeks. Part of me wants to apologise, but I know if I do she’ll have to acknowledge that it was weird, so I don’t. That’s something else I like about Sunset… she doesn’t make a big deal about how awkward I am.
It doesn’t make me less awkward, but I think it’s sweet of her.
“So uhm… got any plans for the weekend?” Sunset asks as she takes my cue and steps back, turning to retrieve her jacket.
“No,” I reply, kicking at a stray clod of dirt and frowning as it just smears mud on my shoe. “You?”
“Uh, kind of?” Sunset says, and there’s a quaver to her voice as she turns while she’s fitting her arms into her jacket sleeves. “Kind of depends.”
I raise an eyebrow.
“On what?”
Sunset clams up then, and her cheeks colour faintly as she starts fidgeting in a very un-Sunset kind of way. Actually, it looks familiar… she looks almost like me right now.
Nervous and awkward.
“W-Well…” Sunset takes a deep breath. “It uh… it kind of depends on you?”
A weird, buzzy, noisy confusion takes up in my brain as I try to parse out what Sunset is saying. I blink a few times, trying to clear up the static, and shake my head, but nothing about that sentence really made sense.
She felt bad enough for me to spend so much of her Senior year just getting me into that little apartment, and now she was wanting to… what? I couldn’t think of anything else she was doing for me and I feel bad enough about being such a chore with the housing thing in the first place!
Panic crawls up my gut and settles into my heart.
Was she doing something else for me and I didn’t even notice? I mean, that kind of sounds like something I would do, but I can’t figure it out! I dig my fingers into my hair as I wrack my brain for an answer but come up dry.
What was she doing?
What did I miss?!
“Wallie?!” Sunset’s voice cuts through my panic and I jerk my head up at the sound of my name.
Pain sparks across my crown and I stagger back, and Sunset lets out a sharp cry as the top of my head collides with her jaw.
“SUNSET!” I reach out and cradle her jaw, running my fingers across her lips and checking for any bleeding.
“M’fine!” Sunset waves me off with a muffled laugh. “It’s fine, Wallie, I promise!’
“Open your mouth, please!” I plead. “I just… I need to make sure you’re not hurt!”
Sunset chuckles but obliges, opening her mouth, and I sigh in quiet relief that she didn’t bite her tongue or cheek or crack any teeth because I’m so clumsy.
“I told you, I’m fine,” Sunset says, laughing as she steps back. “Are you okay? You looked like you were having a panic attack or something.”
I kind of was, but I don’t say that. I don’t want her to feel bad because she’d said something completely innocuous that sent me spiraling. That’s not her fault, my brain is just… just bad sometimes.
“It’s uhm, it’s okay.” I wrap my arms around myself again and shrug. “I guess I just didn’t know what you meant. You already got me a place to live and I didn’t realise you were doing something else for me too and—”
“Wait, wait, hold up,” Sunset raises a forestalling hand. “I’m… okay, I’m not doing something else, I didn’t mean that I meant—” she takes a step back and begins to pace and fidget with her hair. “I only meant that— no, okay, that’s not how I wanted to start this… I just— no, that’s no good either…”
She’s mumbling now and I can’t really tell what she’s saying anymore, but I can tell it’s bugging her. With what little willpower I can summon up, I take a deep breath step forward and reach out to take one of Sunset’s hands.
Sunset jerks then goes stock, her eyes widening for a moment like a startled bunny. It’s actually kind of cute.
“Sunset? Are you okay?” I ask.
“Doyouwantogotothepromwithme?!”
I lurch back as Sunset blurts out an unintelligible string of words, and for a moment we both just stare at each other while Sunset slowly goes pale, and then immediately starts going red.
“Wh… What?” I say, completely baffled by this point.
Sunset doesn’t answer, instead, she closes her eyes, straightens out her posture, and takes a deep breath, in and out.
When she finally does open her eyes there’s this almost mechanical look to her as she wrenches her face into a painful-looking smile.
“Would you uh… excuse me for a second?” She asks in a strained voice.
I nod, and Sunset bobs her head in a tiny bow before turning on her heel, picking up her backpack, then marching out of the little copse before vanishing behind a tree. A moment later I hear what sounds like someone screaming into a pillow for a solid four seconds.
When Sunset comes back to the garden a moment later she looks exhausted but determined as she drags her backpack along the ground before coming to stop in front of me.
“O~kay, let’s try this dance again,” Sunset mutters, and her next words come out halting like she’s forcing herself to slow down. “Wallflower… I… I would really like—” She clams up again, closes her eyes, and forces out— “Wallflower Blush, will you go to prom with me?”
For some people, when their mind goes blank, it literally goes blank. Those people are lucky in my opinion. When my mind goes blank, it’s more like my brain gives off the sound of an old dial-up modem going live, which means my head is briefly filled with the sound of a thousand screeching robots.
“Wallie?”
“Why?”
The word falls out before I can stop it, and I clap my hands across my mouth a second later as if I could capture it and shove it back behind my teeth where it should have stayed.
Sunset raises an eyebrow.
“Why?” She repeats, then a look of quiet hurt crosses her face. “Why… why would you… want to?”
More panic jolts me into action.
“N-NO!” I raise shaking hands as sweat beads across my brow and back. “I just… Why…? Why would you want to go with… I mean…”
The hurt vanishes and Sunset laughs nervously.
“Because I like you?” Sunset says. “Like uhm… like, I really like you? And I wanted to maybe dance with you? And take you somewhere nice, like a date?”
Now we’re both sweating. It’s almost comforting that she looks almost as nervous as I am terrified. She wants to go to prom.
With me.
Sunset Shimmer wants to take me to Senior Prom.
As in she wants me to wear a dress, and dance with her, around about better than a hundred other people?
“It’s… It’s at the Canterlot Botanical Gardens, this year,” Sunset continues hesitantly. “I thought maybe you’d like it there? And we could go walk around the gardens and stuff?”
Well… well that doesn’t sound so bad. Especially not doing it with Sunset.
“I…” I start, then choke, and have to swallow a few times before trying again. “I don’t… y-you could go with anyone.”
Anyone but me. I can’t keep looking at her.
Those blue eyes are too bright. Too clear.
A pair of warm, amber hands appear in my vision, held out and beckoning, and I look up to see Sunset smiling at me. It’s funny… she’s always so confident and so sure of herself, but now she looks like she’s doing everything she can not to just fall over.
I look down at her hands, then up at her, and she offers her hands again.
Silently asking.
I put my hands in hers.
“I don’t want to go with anyone,” Sunset says gently. “I want to go with you.”
In other words, if I don’t go with her, she might not go at all. That’s not even saying I don’t want to. It’s just… I don’t get it. No matter how much she says it I don’t get it. But she wants to go with me, and I know Sunset well enough by now to know that wouldn’t be messing with me like some other people might. If she’s telling me she wants to go to prom with me, then…
Then she wants to go to prom with me.
“Okay,” I mumble, and her nervous smile vanishes into a bloom of warmth and happiness that lights up my heart. “But I… I don’t have a dress.”
“Don’t worry about that, Wallie,” Sunset says, a touch of her old confidence and swagger now back in place. “I know a gal.”
“Knock, knock!” I rap my knuckles against the doorframe as I step inside Rarity’s home.
“Come i~n,” Rarity sings from one of the back rooms. I can hear a sewing machine running from that direction.
I grin as I step inside, and nod for Wallflower to follow me which she does albeit hesitantly. She sticks to me like a shadow as I walk through the den and towards the rear of the house where Rarity’s little workshop is.
“Is it okay to just…” Wallflower trails off as she glances nervously about.
“Rarity’s parents are out on another vacation,” I say with a shrug. “She’s looking after her sister, but Sweetie Belle is out with her friends, so it’s just us.”
Wallflower relaxes a little at that but doesn’t quite unglue herself from my side. In fact, she’s actually clinging to my arm a little, and while I feel bad that she’s so nervous, I can’t deny that it’s nice having her this close.
On a whim, I shift my arm a little, move it out from between her hands, and put it around her shoulders. Wallflower freezes for a moment then relaxes and lets me pull her in closer so she can rest her head on my shoulder while we walk.
Rarity is hard at work, bent over her sewing machine with her hair in a bun, glasses perched on her nose, and her foot tap-tap-tapping away at the old machine. Swatches of fabric and lace, along with dozens of other pieces of cloth, are strewn around her in the kind of organised chaos that I know she loves. I learned a long time ago not to mess with, or attempt to clean up, any of it, either.
Something about it messing with Rarity’s ‘muse’, although I have no idea what that even means.
Rarity pauses as we enter, sits up, and wipes a delicate hand across her brow before looking over at us with a smirk.
“Welcome to the disaster of creation, darlings!” Rarity exclaims, gesturing broadly at her room. “I’ve got the frame of the dress worked out, and the colour scheme was easy, but I’ll need to take accurate measurements before I can move forward, Miss Blush.”
“M… Measurements?” Wallflower stares up at me fearfully, and I nod before looking back to Rarity who gives me an arch look.
“Mind if I do it?” I ask, holding a hand out for the measuring tape. “This part is easy and… well, do you mind?”
Rarity looks between us, smiles, then shrugs.
“Not at all, darlings.” She sweeps up the tape and passes it over. “If you’d like you can use my room to collect them. It’s upstairs, second door on your left.”
“Thanks, Rares,” I say, giving her a grateful smile as I look down at Wallflower who nods shakily.
I take her upstairs and we step into Rarity’s room following her directions. Unlike Rarity’s downstairs work area, this room is softly lit and fastidiously tidy. There’s a small fan going to create a gentle air current, and the air smells faintly of some kind of floral perfume.
As soon as we get into Rarity’s room, Wallflower starts to shake as she digs her fingers into her sweater. “D-Do I have to, uhm…”
Her cheeks flush a brilliant crimson, and mine match the shade a moment later as I rapidly shake my head.
“Oh! No!” I shake the neatly coiled measuring tape loose and hold it out. “I’ll just take a few measurements around your clothes, okay? Rarity accounts for that stuff all the time!”
Wallflower relaxes, then nods silently. I have her raise both of her arms and I start to take the measurements, and I immediately regret my choices in life because it’s all I can do to keep my heart from pounding right out of my chest.
I’ve helped Rarity with this before and it was never an issue. It’s easy! Just four measurements: shoulders, bust, waist, and hips. I measure and jot down Wallflower’s shoulder measurements easily enough, but my hands start shaking as I get the tape around her chest.
I force myself to be steady though. If I mess this up, then I’ll mess up the whole dress.
It’s a little hard to tell with the sweater in the way, but the measurement I get is pretty modest. Not like Fluttershy or Pinkie Pie anyway, who have a surprising amount of oomph.
The waist goes even worse. I barely pull the measuring tape taut when Wallflower lets out a nervous jolt of laughter.
I glance up to find her looking very pointedly in any direction but towards me. I start to pull the tape taut again, and immediately her expression cracks, and a squeak of laughter slips out.
“Wallie?”
“Sorry! Sorry!” Wallflower grimaces. “I… I’m just kind of ticklish.”
“Okay well, uhm, bear with me?” I say cautiously as I pull the measuring tape one more time.
I manage to glimpse the number as the tape settles in the same moment that Wallflower lets out a bark of laughter, jerks in place—
—and elbows me in the forehead.
“Ow.”
Little starbursts are flashing in my eyes as I stare up at Rarity’s ceiling, and a moment later my vision is filled with the tearful face of Wallflower Blush as she moves to my side. I don’t know why the look on her face seems so funny all of sudden, but she barely gets my name past her lips before I start laughing.
It’s not small laughs either. I have one hand pressed to my slightly bruised forehead and the other around my stomach as I start howling with laughter.
I’ve so far managed to incur two minor injuries just trying to ask Wallflower out to a dance.
I can keep a cool head while I make a five-year plan to execute a coup d'etat to overthrow an otherworldly monarch who is also the closest thing to a mother that I’ve ever had, but apparently I can’t be trusted to interact with my crush without braining myself.
Between peals of laughter and waving Wallflower off while I try to reassure her as best I can through my giggles, I sit up.
“It’s fine,” I chuckle, getting to my feet and rubbing my forehead as I pick up the measuring tape. “Come on, last one.”
It’s no easier for me to keep the temperature in my cheeks down while I measure Wallflower’s hips. Only constantly mentally reminding myself that Wallflower wouldn’t let anyone but me get even half this close to her keeps my hands steady. If I don’t get these measurements then Wallie doesn’t get a dress, which means we don’t get our date night.
And Wallflower deserves to have a perfect night.
After everything she’s been through, she deserves it.
That thought, more than anything, clamps down on my hormones and steadies my hands enough for me to read and jot down the final measurements. I leave a couple of notations at the side of each one with the presumed adjustments needed to account for Wallflower’s clothes still being on, then pull the little sheet of notepaper loose and look back at Wallflower.
“All done,” I say, and Wallflower sags in relief.
“I’m sorry,” she mumbles.
I grimace as I watch her arms go around herself. She always does that. It’s like she’s trying to close herself off from the world. In a way, it’s like watching a flower wilt, and I hate it.
“Hey, it’s okay,” I say quietly.
Crossing the room, I hold out my arms and gesture for her to step forward. She hesitates for a long moment, but I can see her trying to push past it. Eventually, she does, and she steps into my arms and wraps her arms around my middle. I bury my face in her soft, voluminous hair, hug her tightly, and she shudders for a few moments before relaxing.
I know she’s relaxing because she always does this cute little nuzzle against my shoulder once she feels safe. At least, I think that’s her feeling safe. I hope so anyway.
“Ready to go back downstairs?” I ask.
Wallflower doesn’t pull away, she just nods her head silently against my chest.
We get downstairs with, surprisingly, no grievous injuries. I’ll be honest, I kind of expected to have somehow managed to fling myself out of a window on the way down. That’s just the kind of day I’m having.
“Got’em, Rares,” I call out as we step back into the controlled typhoon of fashion blowback, and I hold out the notes I’d taken.
Rarity is on me like a starving wolf on bacon and snatches the paper from my hands. Sharp, professional eyes scan down the measurements, and I can see the gears turning in her mind as she cobbles together the image of the dress and its wearer in her mind.
It must be a pretty positive image, because Rarity almost immediately begins to vibrate as a high, frenetic squeal issues from her right before she bustles us out of the room, slams the door, and the sound of frantic, apocalyptic dressmaking starts up.
Wallflower looks up at me worriedly, but I just shake my head.
“Don’t worry, that’s just how she is.” I put my arm around Wallflower’s shoulder again as we turn.
And immediately jerk back.
“Sorry!” I hold up my hands. “Sorry! I should have asked!”
Wallflower does that little side to side shuffle for a moment and rubs her arm before shrugging. “It’s… It’s okay, actually. If it’s you, I mean. I don’t mind if it’s you.”
If it was possible for a heart to pop, mine would have.
“O—… Okay,” I lower my hands, take a step forward, and slowly lower my arm over Wallflower’s shoulder.
She responds by sidling a little closer and resting her head on my shoulder again.
Wallflower is soft and warm, and as we step out into the early Summer daylight she shivers and little and nestles closer. My heart does a few backflips and suddenly I’m grinning like a fool.
Bruised head and chin be damned, today is a good day.
The end of the week, and my date with Wallflower, arrives with agonising slowness. I never realised how a handful of days could take so stupidly long to pass.
When the evening did arrive, it saw all of us going in and out of Rarity’s workshop like a conveyor belt of fashion which, in a sense, was kind of the point.
Rarity made no secret that she’d been intending to treat the evening as an impromptu fashion show to collect yet more examples for her portfolio. It was even more important now that we were all getting out of high school.
“Alright my dears, now shoo,” Rarity waves Rainbow Dash and Pinkie out of her workshop while I stand by watching with a smirk.
Rainbow is technically going stag, although we all know she’ll end up dancing with Fluttershy by the end of the night like always. Pinkie will probably max out at around fifty dance partners by midnight, and, unsurprisingly, Rarity and Applejack were going as a couple.
“Me and Pinks are going ahead with Fluttershy,” Rainbow shouts as she links an arm with the pink party animal and drags her out. “Gotta get some decent parking!”
“You’re not supposed to save spots by double parking, Dash,” I call after them. “They’re gonna ticket you this time!”
They wouldn’t. We all knew that. Even if someone even tried, the combination of Pinkie Pie’s charm and Fluttershy’s criminally powerful puppy-dog eyes would get them out of it.
The moment they’re gone, I pull out my phone and send a text to Wallflower, who’d been hunkering down in the safety of Rarity’s room since the start of the evening.
“Are you sure she’ll be alright at the dance, darling?” Rarity says, her humor fading as she turns back to me.
I look up and try to keep the frown off of my face.
“I’ll be right there with her the whole time,” I say quietly. “It’ll be fine! And besides, it’s open air so she won’t get claustrophobic, and we can always go walk around the gardens if she starts feeling crowded.”
Rarity lets out a soft huff and shrugs.
As she does, her whole dress shimmers and ripples. If I weren’t head of heels for Wallflower, and if Rarity weren’t firmly on the ‘Applejack’ train, I’d probably be drooling. Her dress is a form-fitting, strapless silk organza. Somehow she had managed varying colours of white to the point that where the light strikes the fabric it shimmers like the surface of an opal.
She looks like a dream, but she’s definitely Applejack’s dream.
My phone dings and I look down to scan the message.
“Wallflower’s on her way down,” I report, and Rarity nods.
“You’d better start getting dressed then,” she says with a smirk and nods at the small sectioned off corner of the room where the girls had all gotten their gowns on.
Applejack and myself had decided to go with suits. Ladies look better in suits anyway, in my opinion, and she and I have similar tastes in terms of looking properly dapper so Rarity had been entirely on board, even going so far as to match up our outfits in contrasting aesthetics.
I grab my suit, being careful not to wrinkle it, and step behind the folding curtain to start to disrobe. As I do, I hear the door open followed by the tentative footsteps of Wallflower Blush.
“Uhm, sorry I left,” she squeaks. “It just got really loud.”
“Never a trouble, dear,” Rarity says softly. “Now, let’s get your dress shall we? It’s easy enough to get into yourself, I’ll just show you the ropes, as it were, and you can get going.”
“O-Oh, wow, this is… is… is it really okay if I wear this?”
The sound of Rarity’s gentle chuckle is also, I know, the sound of her ego being stroked.
“Darling it would be a crying shame if you didn’t,” Rarity answers brightly.
“Agreed,” I say as I push the folding curtain to the side and step out. “So? What do you think?”
I do a turn, and stop to admire myself in the full-length mirror Rarity has set beside the folding curtain as I pull my hair back into a low ponytail.
I have to admit: Rarity outdid herself.
The jacket and trousers of the outfit are deep, onyx black silk, with dark embroideries in subtly shaded gold thread of dragons rampant and traceries of red-threaded flames along the shoulders. The interior waistcoat is a deep, arterial crimson, and the shirt beneath is the same shade of gold as my hair.
“You’re a vision in black, darling,” Rarity says proudly. “But don’t forget the gloves.”
“I’m the villain of a spaghetti western, Rares,” I say with a chuckle, looking over my shoulder at her as I draw out the scarlet gloves from my jacket pocket and pull them on.
Out of the corner of my eye I catch sight of Wallflower and pause. She’s clutching the bundle of cloth that is her prom dress to her chest, her eyes are wide as saucers, and her jaw is hanging open.
I’m also passingly certain she’s not breathing.
“Wallie? You okay?” I ask, turning to her as I affix my black bowtie.
Wallflower doesn’t so much answer as she does wheeze before fleeing past me to get behind the curtain and slap it shut.
I stare at the curtain wall, then glance over at Rarity whose smile has become positively smug.
“I think she likes it,” Rarity says after a moment. “I advise you to keep a careful hold of your own jaw, however, for when she steps out from behind that curtain.”
Rarity steps past me and taps on the edge of the curtain.
“Wallflower? Dear? Let me know when you need help doing up the back, alright?” She calls.
“Uhm, okay!” Wallflower squeaks.
I step back and go to fit my shoes on and as I’m sitting and tying off the laces, Rarity steps closer and lowers herself down to look up at me with concern.
“Sunset,” she says quietly enough that Wallflower won’t be able to hear across the room. “I’m serious, my dress and ego aside, are you sure this is the right idea for Wallflower?”
“Rarity, c’mon,” I grumble as I sit up and roll my neck, relishing the short series of cracks. “How many dances do you think Wallflower has been to the past few years?” Rarity’s face falls, but I don’t stop. “How many people do you think have asked her out? Do you think that, if they did, they actually meant it?”
With every word, Rarity’s face falls, until finally she just nods and stands up.
“Alright, if you’re sure,” she says quietly.
Then, just like that, the concern vanishes from her face and it’s replaced by the familiar mask of the perfect hostess as she sweeps over to the curtain and taps on it again.
“Ready?” Rarity asks brightly.
“Yeah, I… I think so,” Wallflower mumbles.
“Alright, turn around and let’s get you cinched up!” Rarity shuffles behind the curtain and there’s a few quiet noises of frustration before she steps back looking pleased before turning to me. “Well? You’re supposed to stand when a lady enters the room, Sunset!”
I jolt in my seat before standing up, wobbling a little as I do, and frantically smoothing out the creases in my jacket. Suddenly faced with the prospect of seeing whatever it is that Rarity has devised for Wallflower, I can’t say I’m exactly prepared as a flop sweat hits.
“Come on out, dear,” Rarity says softly as she steps backward a few paces, gesturing for Wallflower to follow.
Follow, she does, and for a very brief moment I understand exactly how Wallflower felt because I also forget how to breathe.
She’s gorgeous.
Don’t get me wrong, Wallflower is stupid-pretty even on a bad day. She’s just really cute and pretty and sweet. That's normal for Wallflower. Tonight it’s like absolutely everything I love about Wallflower aesthetically has been cranked up to eleven.
Her gown hugs her modest figure perfectly, and it’s made from interweaving layers of silk and white lace so it flows around her smoothly when she moves. The layers are in the shapes of flora and foliage, and the silk ranges in colour from deep viridian to soft emerald, and there’s a few glints of colour here and there from costume jewelry, hinting at flowers beneath the leaves.
Delicate gloves stretch up to her elbows, and the colours are reversed. Where her dress is green with white accents, her gloves are creamy white with leaf-patterns of green lace.
While I’m staring like a complete jackass, Rarity is busy with a comb, teasing out the little knots and snarls of Wallflower’s long hair until it’s laying in gently bouncing curls around her face.
Rarity turns and shoots me another smug grin. “So? How does she look?”
“Way out of my strike zone,” I say without a moment of hesitation, and Rarity belts out a clarion laugh. “Seriously though… Wallie, you’re… you look just… uh…”
“Keep trying, darling, you’re on a roll,” Rarity says, rolling her wrist in a ‘do go on’ motion.
“Stunning.” Is what I finally settle on. “Wallie you’re… stunning.”
And the small bloom of red on each cheek is even moreso.
“Y’all done gawpin’ in there?” Applejack steps into the doorway and leans against the frame. “Pretty sure we got somewhere t’be.”
Applejack is my opposite in tones. Her buckwheat hair is flowing freely over a grey suit jacket with matching trousers. Her candy-apple green eyes match the bright shade of her waistcoat, and she tugs at her outfit with a satisfied grin.
“Y’know, normally Ah ain’t one fer fancy duds, but these?” She gives her jacket one last sharp tug to straighten it. “These ain’t so bad.”
“So glad you approve, darling,” Rarity says with a smirk.
Taking Applejack’s arm, Rarity leads us out. Wallflower clings to my arm with something almost like Rarity’s grace whom I notice made sure to give Wallflower flats instead of heels, which was probably wise.
I don’t know for certain that Wallflower can’t walk fine in heels but, being a gambling mare, I’d put my bet on ‘no’.
Rarity’s car is a little compact, so her parents had given her permission to use their larger and more luxurious Beemer. Applejack is the one actually behind the wheel, though, being the best driver of all of us, with Rarity up front with her and Wallflower in the back with me.
The drive to the Canterlot Gardens is uneventful beyond the usual traffic. Wallflower is resting her head on my shoulder and smiling faintly, and at some point during the twenty-minute drive, her hand found mine and our fingers ended up twined together.
I can’t really describe the why of it. Something about how our fingers fit together fills me up with little sparks of warmth. The colour is striking too. Pure white laced around blood crimson.
“Uhm, Sunset?” Wallflower’s voice is so soft I’d be surprised if Rarity could hear it, even with her sharp ears.
“Mm?” I look down at her and she blushes softly as she meets my eyes.
The look on her face makes my heart skip a beat.
“You uhm… you look amazing,” she says quietly.
My cheeks warm and I rub at them with the heel of my free hand as I chuckle a little. “Well, I mean, I hope so. I’ve gotta at least try to look like I deserve to have a girl like you on my arm.”
Wallflower’s eyes go wide again and she curls up a little more, burying her face against my arm.
“Wallie?”
“Why do you say those things?” Wallflower murmurs.
I raise an eyebrow. “Because I… I mean them?”
She doesn’t reply. Instead, she goes silent for the rest of the ride to the Canterlot Gardens.
It’s no secret that Wallflower has some serious self-esteem issues. I spent months on end in her company and one of the biggest hurdles I’d had to work through getting her onto the housing program had been just trying to convince her that she deserved it.
I know that she wiped the memories of herself from her family, and pretty much anyone who might’ve known about her, although my understanding is that that had been a pretty short list.
My other understanding was that her former home life hadn’t been the sort of thing that anyone would want to be remembered in. In fact, if her family did remember her, her father in particular, it might be dangerous.
Maybe Rarity was right. Maybe the prom was too much too soon, but to me, it was the only time to do it. Wallflower deserves to have at least one memory from High School where she’s the prettiest girl in the room.
And she is.
Applejack parks the car in the lot a few spaces down from the entrance which had been belligerently claimed and defended by Rainbow Dash’s crass attitude, Pinkie’s boisterous charm, and Fluttershy’s relentless adorability.
I watch, a little impressed, as Applejack sweeps out of the car, moves smoothly around the front, and opens the door for Rarity before offering a hand. She looks like some kind of Lady-Knight escorting a Princess to a ball.
While I don’t cut quite the same figure in my black, red, and gold, I step out and do the same, opening the door, and bowing at the waist as I hold out a hand and give Wallflower my finest, ear-to-ear, Discord-May-Care grin.
Wallflower stares for a moment before reaching out and taking my hand.
Unlike Applejack, who gently pulled Rarity out of her seat, I take a firmer grip on Wallflower’s hand and take a short step backward, pulling her along with me. She lets out a quiet squeak and falls into my arms, coming to rest with both arms braced against me as I cradle her close.
“Tonight, you’re a princess, Wallflower,” I say with as much strength as I can. “And I’m going to treat you like one.”
In a single short movement I link our arms properly and tug her close to my side, smile down at her, and start walking, slowly but confidently, towards the twinkling lights of the main open plaza where the prom is being held.
We pass dozens of gardens worth of flowers in a riot of shapes, colours, and shades. Wallflower’s eyes are wide and a rare, beaming smile is on her face as I walk her down towards the entrance, which is marked by a massive white archway wreathed in Queen’s Lace.
And beside it, is a photographer.
“Wallie, c’mon,” I nod towards the photos, and Wallflower’s eyes bug out a little as she freezes.
“I… I don’t, uhm…” Wallflower looks up at me, and a pang sparks through my heart. Maybe it shows on my face, because she clams up for a moment, then closes her eyes, lets out a small breath, and then opens her eyes and nods. “O-Okay, let’s go.”
“Are you sure?” I ask softly.
“Mhm.” Wallflower nods. “I… I want a memory of this, I think.”
I smile warmly and turn to hug her gently.
“Me too.”
We get in line and wait. It’s a slow process, but Applejack and Rarity are right ahead of us, so I spend it chatting. When we finally do get in place, I lean down to Wallflower and whisper in her ear.
“It’s alright, I’ve got you.”
I settle on hand gently on her hip and move her a little closer, and she lets out a soft squeak, but rather than pull away she just clings to me, with both her arms wrapped around my middle. I settle my free hand on her elbow where it rests over my stomach and hold her up a little before turning to the photographer who I note is gratifyingly captivated by the pair of us.
“Okay, go ahead,” I say turning to the photographer. I take one last glance down at Wallflower, and in that instant, I can’t stop smiling.
She’s looking up at me for a brief moment before turning to the camera, and suddenly I’m smiling bigger and broader than I think I’ve ever done before. For that moment, just as the camera flashes, the whole world is perfect.
It’s not that prom is bad, but it is very… very loud. Everyone is talking, music is playing really loudly from somewhere, and Sunset is talking to what feels like every single person in the school.
And not one of them recognises me.
I think I’ve been asked about thirty times which school I go to, and with each one Sunset gets more and more agitated. She always brushes it off with a smile and a laugh, but I can see it getting to her.
I’m not saying this was a bad idea but…
“Sorry,” I say quietly as we reach the drinks table.
We’d shuffled our way awkwardly through a few dances, but I always froze up every time Sunset tried to go faster than a back-and-forth sway. The whole time I kept inwardly cursing at myself for letting my nerves get the best of me, but it was never enough for me to get past them and actually dance with Sunset.
“For what?” Sunset asks, and I can hear the tension in her voice.
Clearly she had wanted to dance, but I knew it wasn’t just that.
“The others.” I nod back to the crowd. “I’m sorry you’re getting mad.”
“Wallie…” Sunset sighs and grabs a couple of red solo cups and doles out some punch for both of us. “Look it’s… I’m just annoyed, okay? They shouldn’t—”
She cuts herself off and sighs as she hands me the punch. I can hear the heat rising in her voice. I appreciate her trying not to raise her volume, though. I don’t do well with that kind of thing.
I fidget with my cup for a moment and shrug.
“No one remembers me.” I look out at the crowd again and wilt back. “It’s just the kind of person I am… invisible.”
Most people have already forgotten me. After high school, everyone will have forgotten. Even Sunset will forget about me once she goes off to do whatever amazing things she’s going to do.
I’m Wallflower Blush.
The Forgotten Girl.
“You’re not invisible to me,” Sunset says as she lifts the cup to her lips, then pauses. “I like looking at you.”
Those last five words catch me off guard more than anything else as Sunset takes a long drink of her punch.
She… She likes looking at me.
That makes me happy at least. I smile as I start to lift the cup to my lips and—
Sunset turns and slaps the cup from my hands sending it flying and the contents spilling wildly. People around us cry out and I jerk, letting out a strangled scream as I drop to my knees and curl my arms protectively over my head as panic grips and tightens around my chest.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”
I stare up at Sunset, shaking and shocked. She’s standing— no, looming— over me. Her eyes are wide and furious. Everything about her is blazing and tense.
I’ve seen a lot of faces on Sunset Shimmer’s face, but never that kind of absolute, naked rage.
I did something. I don’t know what I did but I had to have!
Sunset’s features soften an instant later, transmuting from rage into pain and grief and sorrow as she looks down at me.
“Oh, Written’s Quill, Wallie I’m so sorry, I just…” she starts to shake, her mouth twisting as she spits on the ground and wipes at her mouth before turning to the punch bowl and glaring.
Then she turns to the crowd and all but snarls at them.
“What’re you looking at?!” She snaps.
I turn and look behind us.
Everyone around us is staring wide-eyed at both of us.
Sunset goes to a knee and reaches out a hand.
“Wallie, please I… I’m so sorry, but I had to,” Sunset says quietly. “Someone… someone spiked the punch.”
My stomach wrenches and turns violently as I stare at her, then I turn my gaze to the empty red cup that’s rolling lazily away from me, spilling the remainder of the juice out across the floor.
Spiked punch.
Some had poured—
I’d almost—
I clap my hands over my mouth as the stink of stale beer and cigarettes rises from the depths of my memories to fill my nostrils and I clamber to my feet with a wobbly lurch.
Before Sunset can say a word I sprint out and away from her to the edge of the gardens where no one can see me lose what little I managed to get down past my nerves before we’d come here. I hit the edge of the gardens, stumble a few paces away from the lights, then stagger to one of the flowerbeds where I drop to my knees and get violently sick.
Tears flow fast and reflexive down my cheeks as my throat burns with the acid taste of bile.
Sunset’s expression haunts the corners of my vision as I crumple up beside the flowers, petunias, I think. I don’t know why I notice that I just do and I stare at the little blooms through watery eyes, and feel a pang of guilt that I’d just thrown up in the middle of all of them.
Minutes pass, I think, and eventually another red cup enters my vision where it’s set gently by my head as I lay on the ground, and I stare at it like it’s filled to the brim with venom.
“It’s water.”
I look up at Sunset as she sits down on the concrete wall beside me. The look on her face is one of quiet misery.
Shakily, I sit up before cautiously reaching out to pick up the cup, sniff at it, then take a tentative sip. Cool, slightly tepid water washes over my tongue. I swirl it around a little before spitting it out, then take another, longer drink.
“Sorry,” Sunset says quietly.
My limbs feel leaden and watery at the same time as I scoot closer until I’m sitting beside her. She doesn’t move away, which is nice of her, but it doesn’t change what happened. I want to apologise, but I don’t know what I could possibly say to fix this, so in lieu of that I tuck my knees in, wrap my arms around them, and bury my face in the folds of my dress.
This is it.
Sunset worked so hard to bring me here. She got me a home, and then got me a beautiful dress and tried to treat me like a princess, and I couldn’t even manage to give her one, single, stupid night.
I really am useless.
A quiet sniffling sound comes from beside me, and I raise my head in surprise to look over at Sunset. She’s curled up much like me, her knees tucked in and her face pressed to them, and her shoulders are shaking almost silently.
Almost.
“S… Sunset?”
“M’sorry.” Her voice is wet and strained. “I just… I wanted to do this right and I fucked up, okay? I… I just wanted to make you smile.”
When she does raise her head, her eyes are puffy and red. She reaches back behind her and pulls the tie from her hair to let it fall back down into a graceful tumble of red-and-gold curls.
“I can uhm… I can see if Rainbow or someone will let me borrow a car to take you home, alright?” Sunset continues, her tone quavering. “I’ll uh… I’ll go do that.”
She gets to her feet, shaking, and starts to move back to the party.
I don’t know what it is that possesses me, but I get to my feet with a reeling shake, and then stagger forward to grab her hand and yank her back to me before she can get more than a step away. I don’t want her to leave, I realise. I don’t want her to go, because if she does she’ll forget about me, and that’ll be it.
I can’t let this be our last memory.
“W-Wait,” I sob softly.
Sunset waits. She doesn’t move forward, she doesn’t take her hand back. She doesn’t turn back to me either, though. I can see her shoulders shaking again.
“Please?”
The shaking stops slowly, and when she looks back at me she just looks tired. Sunset Shimmer, so bold and full of life, just looks drained.
“Why?” She asks. “I… I shouldn’t have done this.”
“You wanted to make me smile?”
Sunset doesn’t answer immediately. She looks down at the cup in my hand, then over at the flowerbed, then back at the crowd, before finally looking back to me.
“Yeah,” she says, nodding. “I really did.”
I sniffle, trying to clear my nose of the smell without touching my gross face with Rarity’s nice gloves, then take a deep breath, look Sunset in eyes as firmly as I can, and smile.
It’s small, but it’s real.
Sunset makes me smile. Looking at her makes me smile.
“Do you uhm, maybe want to go for a walk?” I ask quietly, nodding back to the empty path behind us. “It’s… It’s really nice out here.”
For a moment I think Sunset might say no, but instead, she just works her jaw a few times, before smiling, straightening out a little, and moving to my side with her arm out.
“I think I’d like that,” she says with a soft smile.
The lights are a little dim, and the flowers aren’t all blooming, but we walk a long circuit around the Canterlot Gardens with the distant sounds of prom in the background. Faint hints of music trail over us as we move around the walking paths, and Sunset holds me close the whole way, and that makes up for a lot of it.
I think I’d like to come out here again with Sunset during the day.
Yeah, I think I’d really like to do that.
Too bad—
No, I don’t want to think about the end. Tonight is a good night. I want it to be a good night. I don’t know how many good nights I’ll have but tonight is going to be one of them. Sunset worked so hard to make it that way and she… she deserves a good night too.
“Hey, Wallie?” Sunset says, her voice low and still a little raw.
“Mm?” I look up at her as I take another drink of water. The acid taste is gone now, thankfully.
“I know I uh… screwed this up,” Sunset continues without looking at me. “But would you maybe want to do this again sometime?”
I nearly snort water into my nose, and immediately start coughing. Sunset starts then turns in a panic, but I wave her off as I try and clear my airway. When I finally do, all I can manage is to look up at her and ask:
“What? Why?!”
Sunset stares for a long moment, caught badly off-guard, apparently. Finally, though, she just folds her hands together, wringing them in that way she does when she’s nervous.
“Because I like you?” She says quietly. “A lot… I like you a lot, Wallie, and I was kind of hoping after tonight, that maybe we could go out like… uhm…”
My heart is pounding in my chest and in my ears as Sunset blushes a pretty shade of red. Her crimson-gloved hands are shaking as she brushes the hair from her eyes and chews on her words, until—
“I… I was hoping to ask you to be my girlfriend at the end of all this,” Sunset says finally.
For a moment it’s all I can do just to keep breathing.
Sunset could have come to this dance with any girl in the school. She could have asked anyone, but she didn’t. She asked me. I don’t know why she asked me, beyond the very basic reasons she’d given me. Now she’s asking me to be… what?
More?
“But,” I start, unable to keep the words back anymore, “after school you’ll just forget about me.”
Sunset stares at me like I’ve grown a second head. For the space of a heartbeat, I think she’s about to get mad again, but she doesn’t. She just starts to laugh weakly and shake her head.
“Wallie I’m not going to forget you,” she says, her voice cracking and raw. “I… I think I kind of love you.”
My jaw drops.
“I swear, Wallie, I won’t forget you,” Sunset closes the distance and takes both of my hands. “I don’t think I’d be able to forget, and I definitely don’t want to! I… I want to stay with you.”
She lifts my hands to her lips and presses them to my gloved knuckles.
“If you’ll let me,” she mumbles against the soft, creamy cloth.
Several silent moments pass as I try to wrangle my thoughts together. Sunset wants to stay with me. She wants to stay with me. I don’t know why. She’s said a lot of words but none of them are sticking to my brain. At the same time, I don’t doubt Sunset. She’s not the type of person to make empty promises.
For better or worse, I trust Sunset.
For better, I think.
She knows how I feel about alcohol, and the moment she drank the spiked punch she didn’t spit it out or curse or swear.
Her first thought was of me.
She’d turned to knock the drink out of my hands because she’d been afraid that saying something wouldn’t stop me fast enough.
I have no idea how I would have reacted if I’d actually tasted the stuff.
I think I may have really just lost it right there in the middle of the dance floor, in front of God and everybody.
Then there were those other words. Simple and solid words that were a little uncertain and, weirdly, because of that uncertainty they felt more real than I think they had any right to.
‘I think I kind of love you’
Turning my head in the direction of prom, I close my eyes and listen for the music. It’s a soft, poppy number with a gentle and steady beat. Then I open my eyes and turn Sunset, take a deep, steadying breath, and swallow hard.
“Would you uhm… like to dance?” I ask, glancing nervously around us.
Sunset blinks, then looks around, chuckles, and nods.
Pushing myself past my fears and panic, and take a step forward and bring my arms to rest over Sunset’s shoulders as she settles her hands on my waist, then slips her arms around me and pulls me close.
We sway to the beat, occasionally moving our feet here and there. I let Sunset lead, because she’s much better at it than I am, and after a few moments I feel like we’re actually doing something close to real dancing.
I rest my head against her chest and sigh quietly and happily.
Do I want to be with Sunset Shimmer?
I think I do.
The problem is that I don’t think I deserve it. Sunset certainly doesn’t deserve to have to deal with me. But being here, tonight, with my ear to her heart and listening to its steady, lovely beat while we sway to distant music, I wonder if maybe… maybe I might be able to make an exception.
Just one.
For her.
“Sunset?” I say as the music trails off, and I look up at her.
She’s looking down at me as I raise my head, and her eyes are sharp and crisp and beautiful, and she’s looking at me like I’m the only girl in the world, and for an incredibly brief moment I think I actually feel it too.
“Yeah?”
“Are you sure?” I ask.
I know she’s sure. Sunset is always sure, but I need to hear it. I have to.
Sunset’s face splits into a wide, happy, slightly-teary smile as she nods a little frantically. “Yeah! Yeah, I’m sure, Wallie.”
I sigh and close my eyes as I rest my head against her chest again and hug her tight. For a moment I let my whole world get swallowed up in that gentle heartbeat. I don’t trust myself to say yes, I think I might say something else if I try because that’s how my brain works.
Instead, I nod, just as frantically, against her.
And then she’s laughing. It’s a warm, bubbling sound that starts deep in her chest as she hugs me tight, and spins me around a few times, whooping in glee. I have to cling to her as she does, and when she sets me down and pulls back, her face is flushed and her grin is broader than ever.
“You’re… Written’s Quill, o-okay, I guess… you’re my girlfriend now, huh?” Sunset says shakily.
I swallow back a lump in my throat and nod. “I uhm… I guess so? I’ve never really done this before.”
“Good, because neither have I!” Sunset says with an awkward laugh. “But uhm… I… I think, if it’s okay with you, I’d uh… really like to kiss you now, if that’s okay.”
My heart shoots straight up into my throat.
As dumb as it is, I hadn’t even thought about that. I’d never thought about kissing anyone. It was just never on my radar.
To my surprise, I realised that I really wanted to kiss Sunset too.
So for once, I managed to stuff all my little neuroses and anxieties in a little box, kick them into the back of my head for at least a minute, and nod.
Sunset’s hand, warm and gloved red, comes to rest on my cheek, and slowly she guides me up, aiming our lips carefully until I feel her lips press softly to mine. There’s a faint flavor of something like cherries, and her lips are so warm.
I sigh happily against her, and I feel her lips curve into a smile against my mouth. It’s a happy feeling. It’s such a happy feeling. So many other feelings I’ve had are these draining mixtures of chaos. Good and bad swirled together, so tied up together that sometimes I can’t tell one from the other.
But this feeling?
It’s all happy.
Because it’s Sunset.
Sunset has only ever made me happy.
The rest of the night passes in a weird flurry of colours and lights. I remember laughing and holding on to Sunset like I’m never going to let her go. I hope I don’t. I hope even harder that she doesn’t let me go, because I think she’ll be more reliable at it.
When we meet up with her friends, they’re all worried.
Word had gotten around of what happened at the drink table so I let Sunset explain. She’s better with words too. She’s better at a lot of things, but she’s also decided she wants to be with me.
And I trust Sunset Shimmer.
Apparently I trust her even more than I thought.
By the time we get back to the cars, it’s well past midnight. People are staggering back to their own separate vehicles looking exhausted and happy, and for once I know exactly how that feels.
Sunset and I collapse into the back of Rarity’s car as she and her stolid girlfriend clamber into the front with Applejack at the wheel.
We barely get five minutes out from the Gardens before Sunset is snoozing away beside me. I’m resting on her chest and listening to her even, steady breaths and the gentle thud of her heart. As she sleeps, I shift against her, and something sharp pokes me in the side.
Frowning, I pat around my dress before remembering where one of the surreptitious pockets is that Rarity had cleverly sewn in, and pull out the photograph that Sunset had been sure to get taken at the beginning of the night.
In it, we’re smiling. Both of us. I look terrified, but Sunset looks so sure of herself; so brash and certain.
‘I think I kind of love you’
“Uhm, Rarity?” I say softly, trying not to wake Sunset, and Rarity looks over her shoulder at me quizzically. “Can I borrow a pen?”
“Certainly, darling,” Rarity says as she fumbles around the center console before handing me a ballpoint. “Whatever for?”
“Just a reminder,” I say quietly.
I turn over the photograph and put the pen to the back carefully, think for a moment, then nod, and start to scratch out the words in my mind. Words that I hope will be more than just a wish in the night.
Finishing my crabbed scrawl, I smile down at the words before passing the pen back, holding up the picture, and settling against Sunset. I don’t close my eyes, though. I just stare at the words and pray that they might just be real.
Tomorrow I might feel different, but tonight I feel a little bit of hope that the words might actually be true. So I read them, and reread, and mouth them silently.
