> Closer
>  by Avery Day
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> I – Verse
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


{ Verse 1 }


There were many words I could use to describe how I felt walking through the airport. Tired, weary, exhausted—none could genuinely express how depleted I felt. In the last six months, I’d been on tour with my band, working myself to the bone. In that time, I had maybe a few days to myself collectively. But more than that, I was relieved. Our third and longest tour yet had finally ended, and it was finally time to rest.

For a little while.

The novelty of being a touring musician stuck around much longer than I expected it to, but it was quickly losing its luster. It didn’t take long to settle into a pattern, and once I recognized that, it started to feel no different than any other job.

Wake up early in the morning, get to the venue, set up and perform soundcheck—all of which can take one to several hours. Stick around for a little longer for meet and greet, interviews, Q&A panel—whatever our manager plans that day. Finally—time and budget permitting—head back to the hotel for a little while and mentally prepare for the show.

Then comes the show itself. We may only be on stage for an hour, but that one hour feels like one short minute and a full day simultaneously. The adrenaline rush from standing before a crowd barely manages to compensate for the energy it takes to perform well.

And even after expending all that energy, it’s still not over. There’s visiting the merch booth for the second round of meet and greet, mostly in hopes our presence will draw people in to get a closer look at our merch and buy it so we have enough money to eat the next day. By the time the venue is empty, it’s well past midnight, and the work is far from done. From there, it’s time to tear down our equipment and pack it away in the trailer. 

Then, by three in the morning—if we’re lucky—it’s time to sleep for five hours in a crappy hotel bed—if we’re even fortunate enough to have a hotel. Most nights, however, it’s time to get on the bus and attempt to sleep on the lumpy couch while we ride to the next city overnight. When that’s the case, I’m lucky to ever sleep any longer than a half hour at a time, but the cycle begins anew no matter how much (or little) I sleep.

By the end, it might have been routine, but something about that made it feel more exhausting; as if knowing what to expect from the days was siphoning all the wonder I should have felt. The days required so much energy to get through, the shows themselves took even more, and the constant accruing of sleep debt only made it more challenging by the day. And those were just the physical aspects.

That’s not to say it couldn’t be rewarding. Daybreaker may only have two albums and three tours to our name, but that was enough to attract dozens—sometimes hundreds of people from all around. And after playing a good show, the rush gave me a high like nothing else could. Sure, finances were always tight during the tour, but the money at the end more than made up for it. I was making a living doing something others only dreamed of getting the chance to do.

But, as gratifying as all of that was, it was wearing me down fast, and it was beginning to show. It was to the point where I wondered if this was what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. I may have only been in my early 20s, but this lifestyle required you burn twice as bright, even if that meant you only got to for half as long. The constant fatigue, the aches and pains in places I didn’t know could hurt, the long sleepless nights alone with my thoughts—all of it was becoming too much to ignore.

The hardest part of it all: it was so lonely. Day in and day out, I’m surrounded by others—fans, road crew, venue staff—but to me, they’re all faces without names. The presence of others wasn’t the issue but the lack of connection to them. Being good friends with all my bandmates helped—especially having Rainbow’s dumb ass there to distract me when I needed it—but that only did so much. Companionship was one thing, but I needed more than camaraderie.

Flight CF 1210 to Canterlot City now boarding passengers in first class.

A short queue of half a dozen people formed at the door leading to the plane. Although I felt a tinge of bitterness while watching the rich assholes who could afford first-class seating go first, nothing could put a damper on the relief I felt now that the flight was about to begin. This flight was the last thing between me and home. Soon, I would have what I needed. Just a handful of hours. Just one more flight.

Flight CF 1210 to Canterlot City now boarding passengers in business class.

This time, a second queue formed at the door with only a few more passengers than the last batch. Despite my exhaustion, I could feel an eagerness bubbling inside of me. Regardless of how tired I was, the moment they called up my fare class to board, I would bounce out of my seat and into the line. Just one more group of people left to board. Just one more flight.

Flight CF 1210 to Canterlot City now boarding passengers in economy class.

I looked down at my ticket, almost as if I wasn’t sure if that was my cue. With a smile and a brief sigh, I hopped out of my seat and power walked to the line. The excitement within me mounted as the passengers in front of me entered the jetway individually. My eyes scanned over the plane outside the windows in front of us. Soon, I would be on it and on my way home. Just one more plane to board. Just one more flight.

After the gate attendant scanned my boarding pass, I was good to go. With my bags in hand, I passed through the jet bridge, catching up to the rest of the passengers still filtering into the plane. The line moved slowly as people awkwardly stumbled around each other. Some tried to find their seats, while others placed their bags in the compartments above them.

Before I knew it, I was in the back of the plane, placing my suitcase in the overhead storage. Sitting beside the window, I put my carry-on bag between my legs. Opening the bag, I dug around until I felt my fingers graze a cable. I pulled out my headphones and connected them to my phone before securing them in my ears.

It wouldn’t be long before I’d have to switch my phone to airplane mode, so I opened my texting app to shoot off one last message before going off the grid for the next set of hours. Opening one of the many conversations on my list of text messages, I began typing.

>just boarded the plane. so excited to see you again. love you lots

With that message sent, I closed the app and started playing an album on my phone. Most likely, the person that message was for wouldn’t be awake for another couple of hours, so I didn’t think there was any point in anticipating a response anytime soon.

Bzz, bzz

Most likely, not assuredly.

>I love you too!!! I'm so excited I haven't even slept!! We'll be at the airport waiting before you even touch down 💜

Chuckling to myself, I began typing a quick response. Before I could get far, an announcement came from above, advising passengers to switch their phones to airplane mode.

>at least try to get a nap in! taking off now. see you soon 🧡

With that, I placed my phone in my jacket pocket.

As the plane took its place on the runway, I felt my body and mind fighting over how I should feel. I was so excited to get home finally, but my body was quickly shutting down from the fatigue and unpaid sleep debt.

The plane moved forward, rapidly increasing its speed as my body sank further into my chair. As if it knew, the song playing through my headphones increased in pace at the same time as the plane. Before long, we were ascending, and within a few blinks, we were in the sky.

When I arrived at the airport, it was still dark outside. As we ascended, my eyes glanced over at the horizon. The sun was barely peeking over the horizon. It was still blindingly bright, even this early in the morning. I sighed deeply, looking at the back of the seat before me. The exhaustion was becoming too much to fight off. My eyes grew too heavy to keep open.

One last thought ran through my mind before sleep could overtake all my senses.

Just one more flight.
> II – Pre-Chorus
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


{ Pre-Chorus 1 }


As I disembarked from the flight, I felt far more energetic than I had in months. I wasn’t sure if it was because I was so excited or if that was a testament to how miserable I’d slept throughout the tour. My mind didn’t spend much time on that thought, however. All I could think about was the reward that lay at the end of this maze of tourists, terminals, and trams.

My breath quickened as I navigated through the Canterlot Airport. Occasionally, my gaze would float over to the tall windows. Everything was wet and icy—a stark contrast to the warm, dry climate I lived in while off-tour. For a brief moment, I remembered how much I used to hate the winter and the slushy snow it brought with it. The city I lived in now rarely ever saw snow, and as such, my disdain for it had faltered. Distance makes the heart grow fonder, as they say.

The trip back started with a long drive, another short drive, a flight, a layover, another flight, another layover, and one last flight. Now, there was only an escalator between me and baggage claim. That’s where she’d be waiting for me. A wave of warmth splashed over me at that thought. Over the last few months, I’d heard her voice and seen her face, but only in abstraction. A data stream delivered to a handheld device was nothing compared to the real thing.

The descent was painfully slow. I'd have run down the stairs if it weren’t for everyone taking the same path to the floor below us. I had half a mind to start shoving people out of the way, but I’d already learned my lesson about how seriously humans take airport security once before.

My heartbeat picked up as more of the baggage claim came into view. It didn’t take long for me to spot my entourage in the crowd, most of which stood not far from the bottom of the escalator. Most of the gang (barring Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash) were there and ready to greet me—Applejack, Rarity, and most important of all, Twilight.

Their faces lit up as they spotted me descending the escalator. Once I reached the bottom few steps, I got a little pushy with the few people left before me and practically began trotting toward my friends. As I approached them, Twilight broke off from the group and started walking in my direction, her pace quickening the closer we got. Dropping my bags on the floor behind me, we sprinted toward one another, and before long, we were wrapped tightly in each other's arms. 

The girls weren’t far behind Twilight by the time we met. I could tell by the looks on their faces they felt a little out of place during our affectionate reunion, so I pulled away from the hug before things could get too awkward.

Looking down at Twilight, I couldn’t help but smile wide. “So,” I began, “do I know you?”

At first, Twilight was smiling as much as I was, but as my words registered with her, it faded quickly. I wouldn’t have thought anything of it, but her expression promptly filled with fear.

“B-But you have to be the right Sunset,” she stammered. “I-It was supposed to work this time…”

“Jeez, I’m just messing with y–” My eyes widened, blood running cold as I gripped Twilight’s shoulders. “–wait, the ‘right’ Sunset? What was supposed to work?! Dash made it back yesterday okay, didn't she?! What happened while we were gone?!”

The look of concern on her face gave way to a smug grin. That’s when I realized it wasn’t her who’d been had, but me. Immediately, I glared at Rarity.

“This has you written all over it,” I playfully snapped. “You’re a bad influence!”

Rarity scoffed, her mouth agape as she placed her hand against her chest. “Our first time face to face in months and this is the first thing you say to me? Not even a greeting?! Ugh, the audacity!”

“Hi, Rarity,” I greeted. “You’re a bad influence.”

“Well, I’ve no idea what you’re talking about, but if I did have anything to do with this, I would say you should try not to be so predictable next time.”

We all shared a laugh for a few seconds.

Suddenly, I heard Applejack’s voice from behind. “So, are we leavin’ these here or what?”

Turning to face her, I saw her carrying both bags I had unceremoniously dropped moments ago in one hand.

“Right!” I exclaimed. “I can get those.”

AJ shook her head. “I got it, don’t worry ‘bout it.”

“No, really, it’s fine–”

“I said don’t worry ‘bout it,” she repeated. “Besides, ain’t there somethin’ more important you should be holdin’?” A smirk spread across her face as she gently elbowed my side.

“You’re hilarious,” I replied sarcastically.

With that settled, all of us began walking toward the airport exit. Right before we got to the door, a thought crossed my mind. 

"Say, where's Pinkie?" I asked.

"Oh, she–" Applejack stopped mid-sentence, looking behind herself briefly. As she faced forward again, she chuckled. "Y'know, y'all might just wanna brace yourself."

I raised an eyebrow, but before I could formulate a question, a high-pitched song and frantic, percussive footsteps rang out from behind.

"SUUUUUNSEEEEEET!"

Turning around, I shut my eyes tight with a smile. I wasn't looking forward to being violently tackled to the floor by the loud, pink blur rapidly careening toward me, but after the last few months, I was happy to accept my potential demise.
> III – Chorus
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


{ Chorus 1 }


By now, I had resigned myself to the fact that I’d have dark circles under my eyes for the rest of my life, but as I stared in the bathroom mirror, I couldn’t help but notice how bad they were now. Hopefully, they would lighten up after a few good nights of sleep.

Leaning forward, I splashed my face with cold water, foolishly hoping it would make me more alert. The energy I felt after getting off the plane had long since faded, and now that we were at Twilight’s apartment, it was a struggle to remain standing for longer than a few minutes. That didn’t matter, though. We had a limited time together, and I was determined to make the most of it while I was here, exhaustion be damned.

After finishing up in the bathroom, I entered her living room, taking a spot next to Twilight on the loveseat she sat on. Her thumbs rapidly tapped at her phone screen for a few seconds before standing up and entering the kitchen.

“Coffee’s almost done,” she called out. “Black still your favorite?”

“Yeah,” I called back. As I waited for Twilight to bring us coffee, my eyes wandered around her living room. It didn’t look all that different from the last time I was here. She still had the same big screen TV in the middle of her entertainment center, the layer of dust over it giving me an impression of how much it had gone unused over the last few months. Below that were all of her game consoles and a few I left here before I moved away. Books lined the black cubicle shelves next to her TV—some packed together so tightly they looked impossible to remove. The books on these shelves were only a fraction of her entire collection, but they were still immaculately organized.

The left side looked less tidy but still organized uniquely. Some shelves were dedicated to video game cases, all sorted by console. Others had figures sitting on them—some from things I remember watching with her, some I’d never seen before, some I didn’t remember seeing the last time I was here.

The sound of Twilight placing a mug down on the coffee table in front of me snapped me out of the stupor I didn’t even realize I’d fallen into.

“You’re the best, babe,” I said, reaching forward and taking a sip from the mug.

Twilight giggled, curling up in the seat next to me, taking a sip of her coffee before placing it on the table. “Honestly, I wasn’t sure if you were awake at first.”

“Of course I was!” I playfully snapped.

“Right. I’m sure you’re brimming with energy after six months of touring and two days of constant traveling,” she prodded. Looking down at my mug, I realized I’d already drank through half of it even while it was still piping hot. Okay, so maybe she had a point.

“Hey, five months and seventeen days, thank you.” I took a sip of my coffee, pointing at her before placing it down. “I would have thought you, out of anyone, would know exactly how long it’d been.”

Twilight playfully rolled her eyes, taking another sip of her coffee. “One-hundred and sixty-nine days and eleven hours.” 

All I could do was stare at her. I wanted to smile but couldn’t bring one out of me. It was frustrating. The fact that she kept a tally of exactly how many days—how many hours—we’d been apart was incredibly endearing. At the same time, even though obsessive quantification was her thing, I couldn’t imagine her keeping count for any reason other than the fact that she missed me that badly. And I’d subjected her to that feeling for over a hundred and fifty days. All for a career path I wasn’t even sure I liked. Whatever the case, I didn’t waste any more time thinking about that than I had to.

Placing my mug on the table, I looked over at Twilight. Her eyes were wandering awkwardly around the room. I couldn’t help but smile. Even though we’d been together since high school, there was always a difficult adjustment period for her after we spent time apart. Judging by how much she fidgeted around in place, she wanted to be more physically affectionate than she was willing to say.

“You know,” I began, “you don’t have to sit all the way over there.”

Twilight didn’t respond verbally. Our eyes met briefly before her gaze wandered around the room again, her face breaking out into a light blush. Reaching her hand up, she twirled a lock of her hair with her finger.

Scooting closer, I draped my arm around her and pulled her close. In an instant, she dropped every bit of apprehension she’d been carrying. She curled her body into my embrace, her arms wrapped tightly around me, face nuzzling into my chest. My hands gently rubbed her back as my chin rested on her head. The scent of her shampoo wafted into my nose as I kissed the top of her head several times.

It had almost been six months since we were in this position last, but those months felt like an eternity. Nothing ever prepared me for how wonderfully warm her affection made me feel. Being apart for so long was always hard; how good it felt to be in each other’s arms after that fact almost made it all feel worth it.

Almost.

My hand fell into the same rhythm as her breath as I gently rubbed her back. Resting my cheek against her head, I closed my eyes. I was just so happy there. I knew she had so much planned for us to do while I was there, but I would have been satisfied if we had spent the next ten days doing only this.

“Hey,” I heard her say, “why don’t we get in bed?”

“Huh? Why?” I asked.

She giggled. “Well, you fell asleep on me for ten minutes, and I’m still pretty tired, too.”

My face burned in embarrassment. From my perspective, I’d only blinked. “You sure, though? I figured with this being my first day back, you’d want to get started on whatever plans you made.”

“I would, but considering how your last tour went, I also planned around you needing a recovery day,” she replied. “So if we sleep the day away, it won’t interfere with anything.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but I stopped myself. At first, I was going to suggest that I could power through it. After all, we had a limited time together, and I knew she wouldn’t want to waste a single moment. But as I looked down at her, I couldn’t bring myself to say anything. She understood our time was short. It’d do neither of us any good to remind her of that fact. And she was right—even with the brief nap on the plane, I was still exhausted.

With a deep breath, I stood up, letting her lead us to her dimly lit bedroom. We both entered, her closing the door behind me. The moment my eyes landed on her bed—the first comfortable looking one I'd seen in months—I began to strip without even thinking about it. As I tossed my shirt onto the floor, I looked at Twilight. Her gaze turned elsewhere, and a noticeable blush splashed across her face.

“You don’t mind, do you?” I asked half-jokingly.

She looked over at me, the blush getting even deeper. “N-No! Of course not! Why would I?” She chuckled sheepishly.

“Don’t worry, I get it,” I assured. “My diet while touring has been pretty shit, and I’m sure it shows.”

“Wha– no! What are you talking about? You’re still just as hot– I mean–”

“Twi," I interrupted, "I’m messing with you."

“R-Right, sorry,” She responded with a tinge of melancholy. “I-I’m… Sorry for still getting like this. I know, we’ve been together since high school, and I know I shouldn’t still be like this, and–”

Once again, I interrupted her, this time with an action instead of words. I wrapped her in a surprise hug, holding her close.

“Breathe for me, okay?” I comforted. “It’s all okay. You know I don’t mind. Like, do you realize how much of an ego boost it is that I still get you just as flustered as when we were in high school?”

She hugged me back, whining in embarrassment as I held her.

“Besides, do you have any idea how cute it is?”

She hid her face in my chest and hugged me even tighter. Looking behind me, I slowly guided her over to the bed. With her face still buried in me, I started leaning backward until we both fell onto her bed.

“Wh– Ahh!” Twilight stopped hugging me, trying to move her arms to catch us before falling. Thankfully, all that was behind us was the bed. As I let go of her, she playfully scowled at me. 

“You are actually the worst,” she complained.

“I know,” I said, laughing as I got comfortable on one side of the bed.

Twilight got back up from the bed, quickly undressing herself before crawling across me on the bed to take the side next to me.

I turned to face Twilight, ready to grab and hold her like I did on the couch. Before I could, however, she moved in on me. Her arms wrapped around me, her embrace gently guiding my head to her chest this time. As I felt the warmth of her bare skin against my cheek, every muscle in my body began to melt. She was softer and warmer than any pillow or blanket I’d ever felt, just as she was before I’d left.

I squeezed my arms around her waist, which caused her to squeak. Giggling, I nuzzled my cheek against her chest and neck, her cheek nuzzling the top of my head in response.

The room was nearly silent. The only things I could hear were the droning hum of her PC sitting on her desk nearby, the slow, soothing sound of her breath flowing in and out, and the low tempo of her heartbeat right next to my ear. As I relaxed into her embrace, a mix of physical and mental sensations washed over me. My mind was too exhausted to keep up with anything, and in just a few short moments, I was overwhelmed by feelings I found impossible to describe.

Trying to push these thoughts out of my head, I hugged Twilight tighter. Finally getting a chance to relax in bed with her after so long was supposed to be a happy moment, but my mind threatened to revolt against that notion. We were finally back together; I should have been elated, so why was I suddenly struggling not to break? What was wrong with me?

“Sunny?” Twilight’s voice was soft as she ran her fingers through my hair. I pulled back from her chest until my eyes met hers, a half-lidded stare and a serene smile adorning her face.

“It’s okay,” she said. There was a brief exchange between my heart and mind when I heard those words. My mind couldn’t understand what she meant. What did she mean? What was okay? Why did she feel the need to tell me this?

Maybe my mind didn’t know the answers to those questions, but my heart knew what to do. My breath hitched, and my brow tensed as I shut my eyes tight. One moment, I was fine; the next, tears poured out of my eyes. I tried to control myself for a few desperate seconds, but once I started sobbing, I couldn’t stop.

“It’s okay,” Twilight repeated in an even more hushed tone, her embrace tightening. Her grip was still loose, but it felt like she was trying to wring the emotions out of me. Even though I’d never told her, sometimes it was the only way to get them out of me, and I could tell she knew that.

In the years since high school, crying had become a challenge. I’d only get as far as choking up, but my body would make me physically incapable of shedding even a tear. I could only ever do it when I felt like I was in a safe place, and the criteria for what constituted as safe was ever-changing and, even when met, could be ephemeral. And I’d been holding onto that for six months.

Six months. Six long, arduous, strenuous, lonely months away from home. Away from the comfort of her warm, welcoming embrace. Away from the kind and gentle reassurance she made me feel.

Away from Twilight.

Still, that was something I could think about later. Even if I was unable to stop the torrent of emotions coming out of me, I was still so happy. Crying in the dark wasn't how I thought I would begin this visit, but I welcomed it. I was as content to let it all out as she was to hold me until I stopped. And once I had, I drifted into the most restful sleep I'd had in months.
> IV – Verse
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


{ Verse 2 }


“So, I’ve been meaning to ask,” Twilight began, “what exactly happened on the last night of the tour? I hadn’t heard you that angry about anything in years.”

I lightly chuckled as I tied my hair back, looking down at the pizza that had been placed in front of us moments ago. “I’m glad you asked, though, have you really not already seen it?”

“Seen what?” Twilight asked as she slid two slices onto her plate. “All I remember you telling me was that Dash did something really stupid, but you were too incensed to articulate exactly what she did.”

I held up my finger, trying to finish my first bite quickly. “The night it happened, I think I saw a dozen different videos on the internet about it. I know Rainbow keeps deleting any mention of it in the group chat—by the way, you should really take away her admin privileges so I can post the video in case any of the other girls haven’t seen it; it’d be super funny—but I figured someone would have sent it to you by now.”

She shrugged. “You know I’ve never been a social media person. That, and I don’t really get sent a lot of things.” She tried to imitate a giggle, but I could tell it was empty. I tried to smile, but with how that stung me on her behalf, I couldn’t tell if it came through.

“Well, okay, honestly that works out because this story is so stupid and that means I get to tell you everything.” I took another bite of pizza. “Like, yeah, I was livid when I called you, but now that we’re in the clear, it’s just funny.”

“What exactly do you mean by, “in the clear”?” Her brow tightened as she tried to maintain her smile.

“Let me start from the beginning,” I explained. “So, when we were mapping out our setlist for this tour, we decided our closer should be a song Rainbow Dash only has to sing for. That way, she can run around on stage without having a guitar around her neck. Before every show, she’d always try to come up with some bombastic way to end our set. In her mind, it would get people to talk about us more, and to her credit, it went over well every single night except this one.

“See, most of her ideas were pretty harmless—picking someone from the audience to get up on stage, throwing t-shirts out to the crowd—that kind of stuff.”

“The use of the word “harmless” has me worried for where this is headed,” she remarked. Both of us had a brief laugh, but I could tell she meant that.

“Don’t worry,” I replied “Everyone was fine in the end.” Twilight looked no more convinced.

“Soundcheck is wrapping up, and Dash comes to me with her grand finale idea. There’s like nine fire extinguishers in the backstage area for some reason, and she brings the dustiest looking one up to me and says, “What if I just start spraying people in the front row with this at the end of our set?”.”

“Why the dustiest looking one?”

“In her words, “They wont miss it as much as the others,”.”

Twilight returned a deadpan stare.

“Yeah,” I say, smiling and nodding. “Of course, I tell her that’s the stupidest idea I’ve ever heard, but by the time she’s telling me this, Dash has already made her mind up.”

“Definitely stupid, potentially very dangerous, too.”

“Oh, yeah, it was. Thankfully, no one got really hurt, but trust me: this ends up being a complete fustercluck1 anyway,” I continued. “As much as I wanted to say no, Soarin and Gilda were in on it too and they would not let this go. So, being outvoted, I just say, ‘fuck it,’ and let them have their stupid fun.

“Anyway, we get to the end of our set, and we’re playing the outro. Dash walks off stage and grabs this same fire extinguisher from earlier, runs back to the front of the stage, and takes an embarrassingly long time to figure out how to spray the fire extinguisher. Like, we had to extend the outro of the song because she couldn’t figure it out, and we were already extending the outro so she could do this in the first place. It started to get awkward. I thought she might start crying.”

Twilight quietly laughs, accidentally snorting with her mouth full of food. A response so cute it was almost enough to make me lose my place in the story. She looks at me, but her eyes quickly dart away as she blushes. After this long together, all it took was a glance to wordlessly tell her how cute she was. Something I’d grown to miss doing while on the road.

“Eventually, she runs up to me and screams in my ear, “HOW DO YOU USE ONE OF THESE THINGS?”—which is kind of terrifying? The fact that she’s made it this far in life without learning how to use a fire extinguisher? Like, come on, I’ve lived in this world for less than half the time she has, and I knew that.

“So I tell her to pull the pin, and that was my biggest mistake. If I’d just told her to give up on this idea, it would have prevented the monumental disaster that followed, and everything that happened afterward too.”

Twilight smirked, raising an eyebrow. “You mean to tell me she didn’t just end up spraying herself in the end?”

I chuckled. “No—good question, though; that’s actually what I thought was going to happen, too—but it’s actually something way worse than that.

“Something important to this is that I ended up talking to one of the venue managers after tearing down for the night. The first thing I asked him was why they had so many fire extinguishers backstage in the first place. Apparently, the venue’s been around for a long time, and the management has never thought to dispose of their old ones—instead, they just buy new ones after a decade and stash them with the rest. And the one that Rainbow Dash picked up just so happened to be–”

“–one of the old ones?” Twilight finished, her eyes wide with shock. “Do you remember how old it was? Because depending on that, this could actually be really serious. They used to put carbon tetrachloride in some fire extinguishers, which is a highly toxic and carcinogenic compound–”

“You would know that,” I playfully interrupted.

“Sunny,” she replied, clearly not amused, “she could have poisoned people! She could have poisoned you!”

I reached across the table and placed my hand over hers. “Babe, it’s okay. I did my research. It’s not good for human contact, but it’s also not deadly or anything. Part of why I was so mad when I called is because I was worried we were going to get sued, but no one got hurt in the end and the venue just docked it from our pay. And besides, I didn’t get any on me, anyway.” A smile spreads across my lips, which puts her at ease.

“But anyway, I immediately knew something was up when I looked up from my guitar, and the front row was suddenly shrouded in powder instead of foam.”

Twilight tensed up again. “Oh no.”

“Dash is still standing at the front of the stage with this fire extinguisher, and people start flailing around trying to get out of the way, but she just starts doing it again because she thinks they’re just having fun.”

“Oh, Dash,” she says with a sigh.

“I’m about to run up to her and tell her to stop when one of the security guys standing in front of the stage climbs up to Dash—he’s coated in dust, coughing so loud that I can hear him over the music—and he rips the extinguisher out of Dash’s hands and starts yelling at her between coughs.”

Twilight is leaning forward, looking equally amused and terrified at where this story is going.

“After she gets yelled at by this guy who’s easily a whole head and a half taller than her, Dash looks back at me like she just shit herself and bolts off the stage. I think I saw a guy throwing up after that, so I tried really hard not to look at the crowd because I was terrified of how bad the damage was. I just looked over at Soarin and Gilda, and could see we all knew we had to get off stage quick.

“We don’t even bother hitting the big finish; we just stop playing entirely. I thanked the audience and rattled off the spiel about visiting our merch booth and sticking around for the next act, even though I knew I would have to find Dash and dip from the venue as fast as possible.”

“So wait, you mean the show wasn’t canceled after people started vomiting?” Twilight asked.

“The show must go on, as they say,” I replied. “Besides, even if several of the audience members dropped dead, I doubt Adagio would have let anyone cancel the biggest show of the tour right before they were about to go on.”

“I guess so,” she conceded, her brow furrowed. “So, what happened after that?”

“When I found Dash backstage, she was absolutely furious. There was this black duffel bag she was tossing around and beating the shit out of, but I pulled her off of it, brought her outside, and had a talk with her. Eventually—and I still don’t know how I managed to pull this off—I got her to calm down, and things seemed alright. Only for a few minutes, though. Then, things almost got worse for Dash.”

“It’s hard to imagine anything worse than making your fans sick,” Twilight replied.

“Well, while we were outside talking, the road crew for The Dazzlings was going in and out of the building frantically. At one point, we overheard one of them tell the others not to go anywhere near Adagio because she was fuming. At first, we thought it might have been because of what Rainbow Dash did on stage, but that was only her first mistake that night, and it wasn’t even why Adagio was angry.”

Twilight squinted, tilting her head. “What else did she do?”

I couldn’t stop myself from giggling before continuing. “The guy said someone took the bag with Adagio’s entire outfit, her makeup, her perfumes, and a bunch of other stuff and mangled it. Everything inside was ruined.”

Looking away for a moment, Twilight’s eyes went wide as she made the connection. “The duffel bag?”

I nodded.

She covered her mouth again. “What happened when she found out?”

“That’s why I said things almost got worse for Rainbow Dash. Miraculously, no one ever found out it was Dash. But that doesn’t mean she’s off the hook. That just means I have ammunition. We’ll probably end up touring with The Dazzlings again, and if we do, I’m gonna threaten to snitch on her any time she’s late for soundcheck.”

Twilight laughed so hard she snorted again, and I couldn’t help but laugh almost as much as the story concluded.

“Of course, I would never actually do that. We’re really lucky she didn’t find out,” I added. “As much as I hate saying this, The Dazzlings are a much bigger act than we are, and our association with them is probably the biggest reason Daybreaker has had as much success as we have. They’re also basically the only reason we made any money this tour, especially after Dash’s little stunt fried some of the on-stage speakers—that wiped out half of our payment for the show. But if Adagio ever found out what else Dash did, she’d find a way to blackball us for sure.”

“Hey, would that be so bad, though?” Twilight grinned. “After all, that would mean you’d be able to visit more often, right?”

“Heh, I guess so.” I took another bite of pizza, my eyes fixed on the plate below me to hide my dejection. I know that was her way of saying, “I wish you were here more often,” but I don’t think she understood that if that were to happen, I wouldn’t just be visiting—our careers would be over. Still, she just wanted me to know she wanted me around more because she loved me. And yet I couldn’t help but feel like that comment admonished me for being away. Then again, would that really be so bad?

That wasn’t the right time to get into that. I could think about that later. I needed to live in the moment, and the only way to shove those thoughts from my mind was to push the conversation forward.

“So what about you?” I asked. “I’ve talked about myself so much the last few days, I haven’t even asked you how school’s going.”

Twilight smiled. “It’s been going well! My advisor says I’m well on my way to getting my bachelor’s one semester early.”

Blinking a few times, I waited for more of a follow up. When none came, I pushed again.

“Only one?” I half-joked. “I would have expected you to be looking into your master’s thesis or whatever you college people do by now.”

“Ha,” she fake-laughed. “Though, to be honest, even though I’m double majoring, I probably could have gotten my degree faster than that, but I’m not in any rush to finish school. That, and, well…” Twilight’s eyes wandered around the room momentarily. “That’s pretty much it.”

Pursing my lips, I gave her a half-lidded glare. “Come on, Twi. You should know better than to think I’m gonna fall for that. What else is it?”

Her smile slowly fell as her guard came down. “I just… I guess I haven’t had the motivation I usually do lately? Don’t get me wrong: I’m still getting perfect marks in all my classes, and the work is still effortless, but I haven’t been as engaged as I used to be.”

My brow tightened as I frowned. “Any reason why that is?”

A stupid question; one I already knew the answer to, but depending on how quickly she could come up with a reason other than the obvious, the better I’d feel.

“Well…” Twilight’s eyes wandered again, darting from the pizza on her plate, to the other tables around us, to the decorations that adorned the walls—everything besides me. So much for feeling better. “I just don’t want to burn myself out. I’ve been considered for post-graduate level projects, but even if I were invited, I’d probably turn them down. I’m just trying not to stretch myself too thin, I guess.”

“I get that,” I replied. “You got a full-ride scholarship, might as well coast and squeeze all the value you can out of that, right?”

“Yeah,” she said, the tension in her body dissipating. “Why rush to join the workforce, you know?”

My response was only an empty laugh and a half-smile. I felt stuck. Pushing her for another answer would just make things awkward, and it was clear she’d already been struggling through this interaction, but part of me wanted her just to be honest. It wouldn’t do either of us any good—if anything, it’d make sitting in the middle of this pizza place awkward when we both inevitably started crying—but part of me felt like I needed that. Like we needed that.

I wanted to pry—I knew I could get her to open up more if I tried—but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. Running the scenario through my mind made me feel dirty. I may have suspected she was suffering from my absence, but what if I was wrong? All that’d do is make me look like a selfish, self-absorbed asshole. There could be a variety of other reasons she wasn’t pushing herself like she used to. She could be telling the truth for all I knew.

But I knew she wasn’t. Twilight wasn’t the kind of person who coasted; as long as I’d known her, she was ahead of the curve, and the next several after that, too. There were many reasons for that before I came along, but after being together so long, somehow, I’d become the primary one. In any other context, I would have embraced that. But in that moment, I almost resented it.

A few uncomfortable minutes dragged by after that conversation concluded. The rest of the date went well, but for the rest of the night, all I could think about was the emptiness in her voice, and her reluctance to tell me how she really felt. It was frustrating, but it would come out when she was ready.

I just hoped I would be ready, too.
> V – Pre-Chorus
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


{ Pre-Chorus 2 }


I was grateful for the party Pinkie Pie threw for me and Rainbow Dash, but it started feeling awkward after a while. Not through any fault of her own—or any of the other girls, for that matter. It was because of me; because of the way I am.

For the first hour or so, I felt like an active participant. All the girls asked tons of questions about the band, how the tour went, what we were doing next, and I answered all of them to the best of my ability. It wasn’t right, but I’d started feeling resentful. Sure, being in a band was exciting, and they were all just trying to show their interest in what I was doing with my life, but I had just spent the last six months dealing with that life day in and day out. I wasn’t here to relive any of that. I was there to live the life I had with them.

At some point, Dash took over the conversation, and the girls focused on her. That was fine—Dash was on tour with me, and this party was just as much for me as it was for her. Besides, it gave me an excuse to slink away for a bit.

Still, it didn’t help how resentful I felt. After that was all said and done, I felt like I’d faded into the background. All the girls—even Twilight—were talking amongst each other. All except for me. Hardly anyone even seemed to notice I was there anymore. Try as I might to push the thoughts from my head, they just wouldn’t go away.

If nothing else, going unnoticed meant I could sneak in a cigarette before anyone knew I was gone. I’d been trying to avoid indulging my deadly habit, especially since it greatly upset Twilight. Unfortunately, touring stressed me out so much that I went from smoking once every week or so to several times a day. It wasn’t like I was chain-smoking, but any amount of this stuff was terrible for me, but knowing what it was doing to my mind and body wasn’t enough to stop me.

Stepping out onto the deck in Pinkie Pie’s backyard, I pulled the pack of cigarettes from my jacket pocket. Resting the filter on my lips, I grabbed the lighter from my pants pocket and lit it up, leaning forward onto the deck railing as I inhaled.

“And here I thought you gave that up after high school.” A voice spoke from behind.

“You spend six months on a bus with Rainbow Dash and see if you don’t come back looking to die a little faster,” I replied.

Rarity laughed, much louder than she anticipated by the hand that immediately clasped over her mouth. She approached the railing before leaning forward, her arms resting against it. “I suppose that’s hard to argue with.”

“So, what brings you out here?” I asked, already knowing the answer to my question.

“Actually, I came out here to ask you that very same question,” she replied.

“This,” I answered, taking a drag from my cigarette. “I was starting to get a headache.”

Rarity looked at me with a half-smile. “Now, darling. Just because we’ve not seen one another in a few months doesn’t mean I don’t know better than to take that answer at face value. That has never worked on me.”

“Perceptive as always,” I sarcastically remarked.

“As perceptive as you are stubborn,” she fired back. “Now, why don’t you tell me how you’re feeling?”

A mischievous grin spread across my face. “Like sh–”

“Don’t you dare!” she snapped. “Don’t give me that nonsense I know you’re about to. Tell me how you really feel, or so help me I’ll go in and tell Twilight you’re out here smoking.”

Her interjection gave me a hearty laugh. “She already knows,” I lied, “but fine, I’ll talk.”

Taking one last drag of my cigarette, I exhaled with a deep sigh. “Honestly, I’ve had a great time tonight, and I’ve been having a blast since I got back. I’m really happy to be with Twilight again, too.

“These last few days, I’ve been happier than I’ve been in a long time. That tour was a lot of fun, but it was also really rough. And… it’s kinda got me thinking about things, you know?”

Rarity’s smile faded into a look of concern. “What do you mean by that?”

I sighed. “This is really stupid, and I’ll probably be over it soon, but I’m just starting to wonder if this touring stuff is gonna ever feel worth it?”

Rarity looked shocked, but when she didn’t respond, I explained.

“When I first started touring, it was more fun than anything I’d ever done. Writing and recording music, traveling the country, getting to play night in and night out to dozens—eventually hundreds—of fans. It was always hard work, especially in the beginning when we barely had any fans and were lucky to break even, but it still felt so fulfilling. And since then, I’ve believed this is what I want to do forever.

“But every time I come back here, I feel like there’s another crack in that belief. It keeps getting harder to separate from here—from you, from Twilight, and the others too. And by the time the soreness in my body is finally gone, it’s time to leave again. Even though it’s only gotten more rewarding since we started, and it’ll probably get easier once we get bigger, I just wonder if that’s going to be enough by the time I get there.”

“If this tour is half as good as Rainbow Dash is exaggerating it was, I’m certain you’ll have a bigger crew during your next tour, would you not?”

“Yeah, but that’s just offloading one responsibility onto another group. We still have a lot of other stuff to do, so it just means the time we used to spend setting up will be spent being busy in other ways. The hours will still be long, the work will still be stressful, and I’ll have to spend even more time away from home.”

“At least you have a place near the studio, don’t you?” she asked.

I nodded. “I do, but it’s just that—a place. Since I moved away from Canterlot City, I realized it was the closest thing to a hometown I’ve ever had. It’s the only thing that feels like home.” An empty laugh fell from my lips. “So that’s what homesickness feels like.” My delivery was meant to be humorous, but I dropped it somewhere along the way, and silence fell between us in its wake. Until then, I hadn’t noticed the lump in my throat. I swallowed it down before tears could threaten to spill.

“Well,” Rarity began, “if that’s the case, what do you intend?”

Shrugging, I rested my head on my hand. “That’s the thing—what can I really do about it? Quitting makes me feel like I’m squandering a dream, and what if I do that and end up regretting it?

“But, at the same time, what good is living a dream if the ones I love can’t live it with me? I have a lot of fans, and I make decent money, but, even though we’ve only been going up on those two things, I’m beginning to wonder if it’ll ever be enough to actually feel worth it.”

Rarity frowned, spending a few moments contemplating a response. “Would you like my advice?” she asked.

“Shoot,” I affirmed.

“I certainly believe you when you say playing in a band is gratifying, but it looks and sounds like you should take a hiatus—if not that, consider moving on entirely.”

I let out a mirthless chuckle. “I look that bad, huh?”

“You don’t look bad, per se,” she began, “but, if I’m being sincere, when you arrived at the airport, I couldn’t help but notice the bags under your eyes. I hadn’t seen them look that heavy since we first became friends.”

That comment hit me in the gut, but I was determined not to show it.

“Beyond that, you being out here in this state—as well as your despondent attitude over these last several months—tells me a lot more than I know you’re willing to talk about.”

I furrowed my brow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, darling, think about it,” she began. “Our dear friend Pinkie has thrown this wonderful party on your behalf and all of our friends are here, yet here you are: standing outside, alone, struggling to take your mind off of things, instead of trying to enjoy yourself with all of us. You’ve—what—six days left? Over half of your stay remains. But you’re already trying to find a way to convince yourself to keep touring, and you’re bracing yourself to do it anyway if you can’t. It’s got you too preoccupied to live in the moment, and if you really valued your time here as much as you say, would you be spending it like this?”

Internally, I struggled not to cringe. Everything she said was true and I knew it. Still, I wasn’t going to show it, even if it meant the feeling had to echo through my body.

Rarity rolled her eyes at my lack of a response, but kept going regardless. “I hope you understand I don’t mean anything negative by this, but you want yourself to be wrong, and you want me to convince you that you’re wrong, but you aren’t. It’s not hard to tell that you’re absolutely miserable on the road.”

A blink, an exhale, an empty smile. “You’re doing great, Rare. Throw in some comments about how shitty I dressed tonight, too. I still got a little ego left.”

“You may make all the jokes you want, but your attempts at humor don’t fool me.”

My grin quickly faded as I felt my stomach hollow out.

“Sunset, you’re my best friend, but when you’re on the road, it sometimes doesn’t feel that way.”

I let out a deep sigh. It took a moment to sink in the right way, but even though I knew what she meant, all I could think of was how awful of a friend I was. As if this wasn’t a problem I was having with several of my other friends. As if I wasn’t already intimately aware of how far I’d fallen behind with almost everyone in my life. It felt terrible, but it also annoyed me. Instead of responding, I stared ahead, hoping she would get the hint, and we could stop this conversation before I found more reasons to feel bad, or worse.

“We get precious little time to talk to one another, but even when we do, you’re always so terse. Your life is a busy one and I fully understand that; and I don’t mean for this to sound selfish, but the fact that I rarely hear from you—even on your off days—only makes me worry.”

“Just because they’re off days doesn’t mean I’m going to be looking at my phone the whole time,” I argued. “As much as I’d love to be able to, I can’t please everyone.”

“Sunset, I’m not trying to guilt trip you, nor am I trying to turn this into an argument, but you’ve told me yourself you spend most of your off days either sleeping or laying in bed scrolling on your phone. And every time I can’t get a word from you, it’s the same thing: you’re too tired to have a conversation.”

“And? Do you think I’m lying about that?”

“No, but I want you to be honest with yourself.”

“About what?” I snapped.

“While you’ve been here, you’ve lived a life not unlike the one you lived before you and Rainbow Dash got signed to your label. Is this really much of a vacation, or is it a reprieve from what you feel trapped by? Is your time here resting truly that much more rewarding than touring, or are you still trying to convince yourself you’re not running yourself as ragged as you know you are?

“I don’t wish to put you on the spot, Sunset, but I’ve thought about this since last summer. While you were on the road, all you talked about was how excited you were for the tour to be over. You were here for a whole month—the longest amount of time you and Dash would have with us in two years, and for the first few weeks, you seemed so happy. But when it got closer to the end, it was easy to see how much you didn’t want to leave. And now I see the same thing happening now, but it’s happened so much faster. And I know that’s partially because you’re not here for as long, but the fact remains that you seem even less eager to return to the road than the last time you were here.”

Opening my mouth to respond, I quickly closed it. She was right, but I’d been trying so hard to tune her out that, in the moment, I’d convinced myself I wasn’t actually listening.

“Far be it from me to tell you what to do with your life, Sunset, but I do believe you should give some thought to whether or not this is the right thing for you. There’s so much else you can do, and there’s so much time left to figure out what you want.”

“I can’t do that,” I replied. “This is a once-in-a-lifetime thing—something that so many others would kill to be able to do. I’ve made it this far despite everything. I can’t just throw that all away because it makes me a little sad sometimes, especially when we’re probably about to hit it bigger than ever before.

“Besides, I don’t know if the band could make it without me. That might sound self-important, but I’m dead serious. Soarin barely knows how to mic his own drums, Gilda is always missing soundchecks and rehearsals because she’s sleeping off hangovers, and if I’m not there to babysit Dash it’s only a matter of time before she does something stupid enough to kill someone in a crowd.”

Rarity looked baffled at that last comment.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t seen the video either?”

“What video?”

“…I don’t know if we have time to get into that right now.”

A brief shake of the head and raise of the eyebrows later, Rarity began again. “Well, uhm, regardless. You were blessed with a wonderful opportunity—one that many dream of, and few ever achieve. So far, you’ve made the best of it. But as nice as that is, just because you were given that opportunity doesn’t mean it’s the one for you. And while it may have been at one point, that doesn’t mean it will always be, either.

“Like the seasons, we all change with time, and as we do, so do our wants, desires and aspirations. And you owe it to no one to pretend that yours aren’t changing. We’re both still young, and what feels right to us today may not feel right tomorrow. We’ve all plenty of time to figure out all that out in the long term.”

Rarity gently grabbed my forearm, her expression firm. “I didn’t come out here to impose or discourage you, Sunset. This is your life we’re talking about. Even after tonight, whatever you choose to do—whether you take my words to heart or not—me and the rest of the girls will always be right behind you.” Her face quickly softened. “But I care about you deeply, and the only reason I would ever ask you to consider something like this is because I care too much about you not to say something. This may have made you happy at some point, but nothing lasts forever.”

My eyes wandered as my face looked for an expression to rest on. It felt bad, but this conversation needed to end. Calling upon a part of myself I hated to acknowledge, I looked Rarity in the eyes and smiled as I did.

“Thanks, Rare.” As I held out my arms, Rarity wasted no time pulling me into a tight hug.

“Of course, darling. I’m not asking you to make a decision now or any time soon, but I implore you to carefully consider all of what I’ve said tonight.” A few moments later, she pulled away, looking at me with a soft smile. “Now, I’m going to head back inside. I’m sure the girls will start worrying, assuming they aren’t already. So you’d best not dawdle.”

“I’ll be there in a few more minutes,” I replied. “If anyone asks, tell them I’m alright. I just need a little bit more time to think.”

Rarity let out a satisfied exhale. “See you inside, then.”

As the door shut behind her, my smile quickly deflated. As much as I appreciated her looking out for me, I felt even more drained after our conversation. She’d left me with a lot to think about, as if that was something I needed.

“Oh, and Sunset?” I turned to look at Rarity, standing by the backdoor. “Do leave your jacket at the door. Unless you want Twilight—and the rest of us—to know why you were really out here.”

As the door shut behind her, I lowered my neck to catch a whiff of my jacket. It always smelled a bit smoky since I wore it so much on tour, but now the scent was fresh. Slipping out of it, I headed back inside, ready to pretend like every word of that talk wasn’t buzzing in my head.
> VI – Chorus
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


{ Chorus 2 }


After my talk with Rarity, I fell into a cyclical thought pattern—one that kept me up at night.

I’d go over everything she said to me, and remember my lack of an argument for most of it. Then, I’d try to imagine an alternate ending to our conversation; one where I didn’t feel put on the spot, where I had the last word, where I was right.

The problem with that was: in order to imagine an alternate ending where I won, there would have needed to be a winning move. And no matter which way I sliced it, there was no denying the facts. Rarity was right. I was just looking for someone to tell me to stop, or give me a good enough reason to keep going.

And that wasn’t the only thing she was frustratingly right about. Ever since she pointed out the pattern—I feel alive in the beginning, but quickly decline close to the end—I’d been unable to stop thinking about it. The closer the trip got to ending, the more often I’d wistfully stare off into space, and each time I’d come back down to earth, I couldn’t help but notice how much I was doing it.

Then, I’d start thinking about what happens when the visit was over. It would be back to work just a few days after landing. The next tour would undoubtedly be even longer than the last, and the last one was the longest I’d ever experienced. In a month from then, I’d be back in the studio. And in two months, I’d be back on the road, exhausted, lonely, and depressed again.

Even if Rarity was right, however, my options forward were still much more limited than she made it sound. One inherent advantage she (and everyone else in this world) had was being born here. I wasn’t technically a citizen of the country. Technically, I wasn’t human, even if I’d grown so used to being one I’d forget periodically.

Going to college may have been an option, but a precarious one. Getting into high school with forged documents was simple enough, but college was a different story. Each time I applied, there would be issues processing my documents, and instead of trying to figure it out or asking for help, I just dropped the idea.

Truthfully, I didn’t know what would happen if they found out all my paperwork was bogus, and I was too afraid of the answer to even look it up. I’d gone an entire decade without anyone investigating my inconsistent identity, and as long as I had a choice in the matter, that’s how it would stay.

Other than that, what else was there to do? I could get a normal job, but trying to get hired for a position above entry level would more than likely draw attention to my questionable background. And after having worked food service in a mall throughout high school, I wasn’t exactly eager to return to that kind of line of work.

There was no denying that in my heart, Canterlot City was my home. It was the only place that made me feel like I have a place in the world—in any world. But what good is love for a place that holds nothing for you?

It’s true: everyone I knew and loved lived there. I wanted that to be enough—it should have been—but it wasn’t. It wasn’t enough just to live for others; I had to live for myself as well, and I couldn’t do it there. My choices had led me to this point where my avenues forward were limited, but in spite of that I’d found one. That fact alone should have been enough to make me happy.

But it wasn't.

And, at the end of it all, I’d feel bad for the way I was looking at the whole thing. For some reason, I couldn’t stop looking at it as an argument. We didn’t go back and forth, we didn’t raise our voices; she just told me she was worried about me and why. Yet, from my perspective, it felt like I’d just lost—a fight I wasn’t aware I was in until after I’d lost.

That’s what led me to where I was on the seventh night of my vacation. Staring at the bleak night sky, not a single star spared from the incandescent smog from the city lights. With a lengthy inhale, I took one last drag of my cigarette before flicking the butt off the balcony. My lungs burned as I held it in as long as I could, a sigh chasing the smoke I exhaled. Grabbing for my phone from its place between my breasts, I checked the time. Three in the morning; as good a time as any to try and go to bed again.

Walking back into the apartment, I tiptoed to Twilight’s bedroom. Carefully opening the door, I peered through the crack with one eye. Twilight was still sound asleep. Relieved, I made my way over to the bed, sliding myself under the covers as carefully as possible. Once my head touched the pillow, I relaxed my whole body and rolled over to my side.

Before I closed my eyes, I caught a glimpse of Twilight's dresser. It was the same one from when we first met, the huge vanity mirror now lined with dozens of photos slotted into the surrounding wooden frame. Every time I visited, there were more pictures. Until then, I hadn’t thought to look at any of the new ones. Since my mind was still refusing to be quiet, I sat up, catching a better look at the mirror, the light from the night sky bleeding through the blinds being just enough for me to make everything out.

Each time Twilight added more photos, she’d cram the ones already in the mirror together closer, but the ones at the top left—the original ones—were always kept in the same spot. I quickly scanned over all the photos I’d already seen many times before—graduation day, our first year anniversary in the park, Pinkie Pie’s New Year’s Eve Spooktacular a few years back—but the further my eyes scrolled, the more I began to realize something.

The photos were all organized chronologically, effectively making Twilight’s mirror a timeline for our relationships with our friends and each other. As time went on, there were less of us in each of the photos. Maybe it was just the state I was in, but I couldn’t help but notice there was someone missing in more photos than anyone else.

And as I got to the end, a second realization made my heart sink even further. It may have been six months since I’d visited, but I remembered what the mirror looked like last time.

There wasn’t a single new photo.

Before I had time to process what that meant, I heard a high pitched noise come from beside me. My head snapped toward Twilight. She was still fast asleep, but I kept my eyes on her. Minutes dragged by without another sound, but I knew better than to think that meant nothing was wrong. But as several minutes turned into fifteen, I realized it probably wasn’t anything to worry about. I closed my eyes, and slid back into bed.

Until she made another noise.

I turned over and shook her gently. “Twilight?” She groaned, but didn’t move. “Twilight, wake up.”

“Wh–Huh?” she slurred. “Sunset, b-but you…”

“Twilight, it’s okay. It was just a dream.”

Moving my hand from her shoulder, I propped myself up so I was looking over her in bed. The light in the room was just barely enough to make out her expression. She blinked her bleary eyes several times, looking more alert with each one. I gave her a gentle smile as she came to.

At first, she smiled back at me, but it was forced; pained. Her lips tightened as her breath hitched. I pulled her into me, wrapping my arms tightly around her. Her own grasp on my waist felt weak, unsteady, like she could slip away at any moment. I held her tighter, feeling her bury her face into my chest.

“Shhh, it’s okay. You’re okay, you’re safe,” I whispered. “It was just a bad dream. There’s nothing to be afraid of anymore.”

When words weren’t enough, I began to take deep breaths. She tried to mimic my breathing pattern a few times only for her to tense up and cry again, but after a few minutes, she finally managed to calm down. Once she seemed relaxed enough, I let out an internal sigh of relief.

Rubbing her back as I held her, I occasionally pressed my lips against the crown of her head. As I waited for her to open up, my mind flashed back to our high school days again. So many things had changed since then, but the satisfaction I got from being there for her after a nightmare felt just as good as it did back then.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered, her face buried in the crook of my neck.

“Don’t be,” I replied. “You know how much I get out of this.”

Twilight’s only response was an empty laugh. That felt like a minor victory until her body tensed up and the tears flowed freely once more. I held her even tighter, running my fingers through her hair and peppering the top of her head with more kisses. Whatever this dream was, it must have been really bad. I started to breathe deeply like before, and after a few minutes, she was stable again.

“That nightmare really shook you up, huh?” I asked gently.

She sniffled, keeping quiet initially before responding. “I-It’s not because of the nightmare.”

Twilight pulled herself out of the hug and sat up next to me. As she wiped her tears away with the bed sheet, I hopelessly tried to parse her reply.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

She cleared her throat, a sigh following right after. “It’s just… lately, I’ve been having nightmares more frequently. And they’re not traumatic like the ones from high school, it’s just…”

A tight lipped frown on her face as she struggled not to cry again.

“I… ugh, I don’t know if I should talk about this,” she said.

I reached my hand over to hers, weaving our fingers together. “Twilight, you can tell me anything.”

“I know, but–” she took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, “–it’s just not fair to you. It’s not right for me to say it.”

“And it’s not fair to you to not let me help.” Reaching my other hand over, I squeezed her hand with both of mine. “Just say whatever’s on your mind, even if you think I’m not gonna like it. I’m a big girl, I can handle it.”

Twilight took in another breath, this one sounding much shakier than the one before it.

“Th-This is the first time you’ve been here to wake me up from one of those nightmares a-and… in a few days, I’ll have to go back to dealing with it by myself, and I don’t want to do that again.”

She struggled not to choke on her words as the floodgates broke open again. Twilight dove forward, clinging to me tightly. “I’m sorry, I know you have to but I-I don’t want you to go. I don't want to wake up alone again. I just want you to stay.”

My arms found their place around her once more, my hand gently rubbing up and down her back. She kept trying to apologize and explain herself, but as her crying intensified, her words became a muddled mess of sobs. I tried to come up with anything to say, but I could only whisper lies into her ear about how everything would be okay.

Nothing else felt right. My mind was as empty as the rest of me. I wanted nothing more than to tell her I would always be here for her and that I wasn’t going to go anywhere—gentle assurances I could usually fall back on—but that wasn’t true. In less than a week, we would be hundreds of miles apart again. In just a few days, I would be powerless to do anything on nights like this. Our relationship would be relegated to phone calls and the occasional video chat, and everything beyond that would have to wait for an amount of time yet to be determined.

Staring forward at the wall as I held her, everything around me began to fade. Usually, holding Twilight was something that made me feel warm—especially when she needs comfort from me. In that moment, I only felt cold and hollow. The fact that I was there may have made her feel better, but paradoxically, I was also the whole reason she was upset. It hurt both of us to be apart, but it wasn’t hard to see who hurt worse. And because I was the one who chose to leave, I was the one hurting us both.

Regardless, there was still one thing I could do for the time being: be there for her. Then, the next day, and every remaining day of my stay. Make the best of the time we had, and hope that was enough. Our relationship stood strong against the corrosion of distance every time before then, and there was no reason to think it wouldn’t withstand again.

But as I lay there next to Twilight, my eyes finding their way to the mirror of photos once again, I asked myself:

How much more could it take?
> VII – Bridge
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


{ Bridge }


It was obligatory: every time I visited Canterlot City, me and Twilight would visit the park where I confessed to her. It didn’t matter what time of year it was; if I was in town, rain or shine, we’d always find a day to go. If anything, a blizzard or thunderstorm gave the environment a different palette, and made that visit stick out in my mind.

This time, it was bright, sunny, and uncharacteristically warm throughout for that time of year. A warm front had blown in not long after I arrived, and the snow had quickly melted as a result. This was exactly what I was hoping for.

With a guitar case in hand, we walked the stone path toward the bridge where it all began. I felt my whole body tense up as it came into view. Five years later and I still felt the residual nerves from the day I finally confessed to her.

Of course, that wasn’t the only reason I felt a pang of anxiety. I may have just spent months singing and playing guitar in front of hundreds of people, but those were faces without names. Performing for a crowd was all about putting on a good show.

Performing in front of Twilight meant far more than that. I wasn’t just trying to impress her; I was trying to impart a message to her—a heartfelt, undoubtedly cheesy, but very emotional message. One that could easily be delivered in three words, but to me, required far more than just words to truly express.

Rehearsing this song in my off time could only do so much. It may ensure I’m able to perform on a mechanical level, but it did nothing to prepare me for all the feelings that would be running through me when it was time. As I sat down on the bench and placed the hard shell guitar case on the wet stone ground, I reflected on how I felt—practiced, yet unprepared.

Regardless, this was going to happen.

“So,” I began, bending over and unlatching the lid of the guitar case, “I know I’ve been pretty vague about what I wanted to do for you out here during this visit.” I grinned at Twilight as she took a seat on the bench next to me. “Though, I’m sure it’s not hard to guess.”

Twilight nodded, smiling knowingly. “I think I have an idea, but I won’t say anything.”

I exhaled softly as my smile widened. “Well, I know I’ve already said sorry for it a million times, but consider this my True apology for missing our five year anniversary.”

She quietly nodded again. With my guitar in hand, I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. My mind ran through the chord shapes as I placed my fingers on the fretboard. It was a simple song – a G chord into a C chord, swinging back and forth like a pendulum. Strumming the first few beats of the song, I moved my body to the rhythm.

Looking up from my guitar, I strummed the first chord a few times. After just the first chord, Twilight immediately realized the song I was playing. Not long after we got together, I brought her out to this same spot and played it for her for the first time. I hadn't played it once since then, and considering everything, this felt like the most appropriate time to do it. 

I heard her breath hitch as she covered her mouth with her hands. Seeing her reaction was enough to make my heart palpitate.

I continued rocking back and forth, playing the two chords of the intro in a sequence as I cleared my throat. 

“Don’t start crying,” I playfully remarked. “I haven’t even started playing it yet, and if you start, I’m gonna start.”

Even with her mouth behind her hands, I could still hear a choked giggle. I couldn’t help but smile at her. After enough stalling and emotional preparation, I began to sing.

It seemed like things were going well at first, but not even halfway into the first verse, I could see tears streaming down Twilight’s eyes. Seeing this caused a lump to form in my throat, and I choked on that before I could manage the third line of the first verse.

“Fuck,” I hissed, stopping mid song to swallow my feelings back down. “Let me start over.”

Twilight giggled, wiping the tears away before placing her hands in her lap, nodding once she was ready.

Putting my fingers back into position, I got back into rhythm and began again. Once again, Twilight immediately became emotional, and the lump was back in my throat even faster. I was determined not to let it win this time—one false start was more than enough.

As I got to the chorus, I broke eye contact with Twilight. Closing my eyes while playing was a habit I fell into early on as a musician, but most of the reason I did was because it was becoming difficult not to choke again. Whenever I saw Twilight cry, I usually felt like crying as well. And while I could hold back most of the time, performing this song made me far too emotional to try.

So many memories played out behind my eyelids. Dates, parties, sleepovers with our friends. Magic incidents, panic attacks, fights. An assortment of experiences good and bad. I carried fondness for all of them, even the negatives, because at the end of it all, we were always together. They made me yearn to create more moments with her.

As I got to the bridge, my fretting hand tripped up trying to switch to the right chord. There was an awkward pause as I got reoriented and back into rhythm before continuing. To make matters worse, I forgot a couple of the lines. Internally, I was kicking my own ass for flubbing that part up, but years of performing in front of an audience allowed me to ignore those mistakes and focus on finishing.

The last chorus was always the hardest to sing. Every other chorus had a narrow range of notes, but the last chorus had quite a bit more vocal flourishing. Still, I managed to belt out the hardest parts, my voice only cracking one time.

The chorus ended, building up to a brief reprisal of the first verse; this time sung softer and slower as the song ended. I played the last chord with a slow strum, and as the sound of the strings resonated, I finally opened my eyes.

Twilight cheeks were raised—both from the glowing smile she held, and the tears she’d been unable to stop for the duration of the song. The streaks down her face glistened in the evening light. My performance was far from perfect, but perfection was never the goal. In the end, impact was all that mattered, and from her expression alone, I made just as much of an impact as I wanted.

I gently lowered my guitar back into its case, flipping the lid closed. “So, how did–”

Those were the only words that managed to escape me. Before I even had a chance to sit back up and face her, Twilight latched onto me, her arms practically crushing my ribs.

“That was beautiful,” she said with a sniffle.

“Happy five years,” I said, holding her close to me as I kissed the crown of her head. “I love you, Twilight.”

“I love you too, Sunset.”
> VIII – Pre-Chorus
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


{ Pre-Chorus 3 }


There was an inescapable air of melancholy on my last full day in Canterlot City. Twilight and I had spent the entire day alone, doing nothing but watching movies, eating takeout, and snuggling. It was the perfect kind of day for the two of us, but the mood was tainted by the fact neither of us wanted to face reality.

On most nights, we went to bed around midnight, but even as it approached two in the morning, we still weren’t willing to retire. Well, our bodies were, but not our minds. Even in our visible state of exhaustion, neither of us wanted to move from where we were, and it wasn’t hard to imagine why.

Twilight’s head was resting on my shoulder. Over the past couple hours, she’d fallen asleep on me multiple times. When she did, I’d nudge her awake, and she’d remain conscious for all of fifteen minutes before slumping over and falling asleep again. It was the most adorable thing, but each time I woke her, it tugged at my heart.

“Twilight?” Not for the first time that night, I poked her side.

“Nnnnhh,” she mumbled, sounding as annoyed as a nearly unconscious person could.

“Come on,” I muttered, “we should head to bed.”

A huffy, playfully irritated noise escaped from her. This time, I just responded by nuzzling my cheek against her head. She did her best to nuzzle me back from the angle she was leaning against me at. Before I had a chance to start getting up, Twilight wrapped her arms around me, keeping me in place on the couch.

“Twilight.”

She didn’t respond with words, only by sleepily nuzzling my neck.

“Twilight, for real. It’s really late and we should go to bed.”

“R-Right,” she mumbled, pushing herself off of me slowly. “Sorry.”

"Hey, it's okay, I get it." I replied, kissing the crown of her head. “No reason to be sorry.”

I stood up from the couch, expecting Twilight to do the same. Taking one step forward, I realized my pajama sleeve was caught on something. When I turned around, I realized it wasn’t caught on something, but someone. Looking back down at Twilight, I could see a sleepy, emotionless expression on her face. I gave her my best comforting smile.

“Twilight.”

She just kept looking up at me, those vivid, violet eyes surrounded by weary crimson.

“We should go to bed.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, her voice barely above a whisper. “Let’s go.”

Turning away to head toward the bedroom once more, my second attempt was cut short for the same reason as the first. Her hand was still gripping onto my sleeve. I turned to face her again, letting out a quiet sigh as I smiled at her again. Twilight’s blank facade was beginning to crack.

Anxiety comes in many colors. In this regard, Twilight is a rainbow. Separation anxiety was the hardest one for her to contend with, but far from the only difficult one. For as long as we’d been together, Twilight always struggled to say what was on her mind. It was something we could relate to each other on, even if we showed it in different ways. She was always worried about being too needy. If she wasn’t worried about being clingy, she was worried about rejection. If it wasn’t rejection, it was something else equally as irrational as the idea of me not being intensely in love with her.

For me, helping her deal with these feelings wasn’t always easy, but it was always rewarding. And, as weird as it felt to admit, and as much as I hated how her anxiety made her feel, some of the habits she developed as a result were endearing. I couldn’t help but find her anxious behavior adorable sometimes.

When Twilight couldn’t say what she meant, her actions would do it for her. Whether it was me getting up in the middle of snuggles to go to the bathroom, or moments like now where it was time for us to separate for a while, if Twilight didn’t want me to leave, she would rarely say it; she would show it. Her mouth may whisper goodbye, but her body would scream don’t go. It was every bit as cute as it was heart wrenching.

At first, she wouldn’t acknowledge it. She’d coyly pretend her body was acting on its own, or act as though she didn’t realize it was happening at all. And every time, I would look her in the eyes and smile at her. Slowly, she would blush, or crack a smile. Her eyes would bashfully dart away from my own. It was embarrassing for her, but it was adorable to me.

This time, things were different. There was no smile accompanying her sheepishness. There was no amount of endearment that could overshadow what this was about.

“Twilight…”

For a few moments, we held each other’s gaze. Eventually, her nostrils tightened, lips tightening as they fell into a frown. With a sigh of resignation, I sat back down next to her. She curled into me as I wrapped myself around her, holding her close. I ran my fingers through her hair with one hand, rubbing her back with the other. I planted a soft kiss on her head before tucking her into the crook of my neck.

The only way she was going to sleep was by crying until she was too exhausted to stay awake. And all I could do then was hold her. There were no words of comfort to give. By this time tomorrow, I would be gone. She would be alone again. 

And so would I.
> IX – Chorus
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


{ Chorus 3 }


Every day since I had arrived, Twilight and I would wake up around the same time. Each time we did, we would smile wide, dive right into each other and spend a good portion of the morning snuggling in bed. It was the perfect way to start a day—the way I wish I could start every single day.

This morning was different. We still smiled, but as we lay across from each other in bed, we both struggled to hold it together. For better or worse, our emotions were perfectly in sync. We felt every single bit of what the other was feeling.

These last ten days were wonderful—undoubtedly the most fulfilling and enriching days I’d had in months. And from the look in her eyes, I could tell she felt the exact same way. It was why it was so hard for her to pretend to be happy. It was why it was so hard for me to hold myself together.

But I was determined to be strong. I had to be. Every time our visits came to an end, it always seemed to hit Twilight the hardest. I was going to be the shoulder she cried on—just as I always was—and when we were out of each other’s sight, I could let my emotions out on my own.

Unfortunately, we didn’t have as much time to spare for snuggling that morning. Most of my stuff had been packed the night before, but there were still a few things I needed to put away. Then I needed to double check and make sure I had everything. Considering the distance between us and how busy both of us were, it could take weeks for anything I forget to come back to me.

As I checked over my belongings and got myself together, we didn’t talk much. Twilight scoured her apartment for anything I might have accidentally left out, and thankfully came up empty-handed. Aside from that, our words were sparse. It’s not like we didn’t want to talk. It’s just that talking took focus, and we were both clearly concentrated on one thing: not losing our shit.

With everything ready and accounted for, we placed my bags into the trunk of her car. Before going to the airport, we had time to make one more stop. After graduation, Twilight and I would go out almost every weekend to a place called Canterlot Kitchen for pancakes. Most of the time, we went during the evening, but, for obvious reasons, we arrived at a more appropriate time that day.

“It’s kinda funny,” I remarked as the car pulled out of the parking lot. “Even though we always got breakfast food at this place, this is the only time I can remember going in the morning.”

On any other day, I would have expected Twilight to agree with me, or maybe correct me. She had a much more consistent memory than I did. But she did neither of those things. Instead, she looked at me with a wan smile, exhaling an even weaker laugh before turning her attention back to the road. I couldn’t blame her for her lack of a reaction. I was just trying to do anything to not think about the emptiness creeping up inside of me.

It wasn’t long before we were entering the restaurant. The waitress led us to a booth, Twilight taking the first seat, me taking the one across from her. Without even looking at the menu, I told the waitress our regular orders. For me, a stack of strawberry pancakes, and for her a stack of chocolate chip, both with a black coffee. After writing down our orders, the waitress walked back to the kitchen.

Then we were alone once again. For the first minute, neither of us said a word. Both of us sat there, our eyes idly wandering around the room. Occasionally, one of us would bring out our phone just to put it back after less than a few seconds of browsing.

Twilight finally broke the silence. “Umm, Sunset?”

I looked up from the phone in my hand. “Hmm? What’s up?”

She looked down at the table, biting her lip and letting out a quick sigh.

“Would you mind sitting over here? With me?”

“Of course,” I replied, giving her a sympathetic smile. I shimmied out of my seat in the booth, hopping over to her side, scooting in nice and close after taking my spot next to her.

“Th-Thanks,” she stammered.

I placed my hand on her thigh, gently squeezing it. “Anything for you,” I said.

A weak smile spread across her face. We held each other’s gaze for a few brief moments before her eyes darted away from mine. I may not have been able to see it, but I didn't need to. I could tell she was struggling not to cry. There had been a lump in the back of my throat since that morning, but it was still gradually swelling. I still managed to quickly swallow it back down.

Not long after I switched to her side of the table, the waitress came back with our orders in hand, placing them in front of each of us.

“Anything else for you two?” she asked.

I shook my head. “We’re good, thank you,” 

“Just let me know if you need anything,” she said before making her way over to another nearby table.

Both of us ate in total silence. I thought about maybe trying to talk about something a few times, but ultimately decided against it each time. It felt weird to say, but I felt proud of Twilight. During the last visit, she cried almost the entire day when I was leaving. So far, if she had cried, I wasn’t able to tell. Maybe this was getting easier for her.

Maybe she was getting used to me being gone.

For the first time this morning, I could feel tears well behind my eyes. Closing my eyes, I breathed a deep breath, letting it out slowly. If nothing else, the effort it took not to cry made the time we had together last longer—or at least seem to last longer—and even if that meant I was struggling the entire time, every extra perceived second with her was worth it.

My free hand had been resting on the cheap faux-leather seat between us. As the last of my sigh left my body, I felt a set of fingers weave between my own. I turned my head to look at Twilight. She didn’t look back, she just kept eating her breakfast. It may have been too hard for her to look at me, but that subtle gesture sent a clear message: she was there for me as much as I was for her.

My eyes fixed on my food as I continued to eat. We didn’t talk until after we’d finished eating. If either of us did, that would mean surrendering. Any words we spoke would inadvertently signal the floodgates to open.

Soon, there would be plenty of time for tears.

Not then, though. Not yet.

After paying the bill and leaving a generous tip, me and Twilight sat for a few more moments, finishing our coffee.

“Ready to go?” I asked. Her eyes met mine for the first time in a while. She opened her mouth to respond, but not a sound came out. Instead, she just nodded. Rising from my seat, I let her exit the booth and led the way to her car, our hands still intertwined. There was just one more drive left.

During the ride to the restaurant, I felt confident in my ability to hold myself together until the end. Upon pulling out of the parking lot and hitting the road again, I felt my confidence begin to waver. By the time we were halfway to the airport, it had already almost completely withered away.

Nothing I did was grounding me. Deep breaths felt shallow, and I couldn’t be too obvious about them or else Twilight would notice. Looking out the window to distract myself only made things worse. Seeing all the sights of my old hometown only emphasized the fact that I was leaving it behind once again. There was nothing left to hold me down, just as there was nothing left for me to hold onto.

By the time we pulled up to the front of the airport, I was trying desperately to hold it all together. In less than half an hour, I’d be waiting at my terminal, out of view from Twilight. I could let it all out there. There was no need to let it out a moment sooner.

A few moments of silence ticked by after Twilight threw the car in park. Both of us kept looking forward, afraid to look at each other. Finally, it was Twilight broke the silence.

“So,” she began, a tremble in her voice, “I guess this is it, then.”

Turning my head toward her, I found Twilight already looking at me. She was trying to give me a smile, but it quickly faded after just a moment. The pain behind her eyes tugged at my heart, sending a tremor throughout my entire body. That tremor shook the walls I put up around my emotions and threatened to send them tumbling down. My nostrils flared as I exhaled hard—one last attempt to hold myself together.

It wasn’t enough.

Everything came pouring out of me all at once. My entire body went slack as I finally lost it. My eyes screwed shut, squeezing out hours worth of tears at once. Twilight quickly reached her arms out to me as I leaned into her, my face making contact with her chest.

Once I started sobbing, it felt impossible to stop. The tears just kept flowing. Twilight held me close, her hands gently rubbing my back, but her comfort was only making it harder to reel myself in. Eventually, it got to the point where sobbing wasn’t enough. I started wailing, and her grip over me tightened as I did.

White noise filled my mind as thousands of thoughts and dozens of emotions blended together. I was embarrassed by how hysterical I had become. I was angry there was no simple, immediate solution to all of this. I felt horrible about the fact that I was once again leaving her behind for an indeterminate amount of time. I was terrified by the thought that Twilight might be growing accustomed to my lengthy absences.

Above all of that, I just didn’t want to go. I didn’t want to leave at all. I wanted to call the record company and tell them I quit. Tell Dash to find another lead guitar player. Maybe I was living a dream, but it wasn’t mine anymore. What kind of dream leaves you feeling so lonely? So tired? What kind of dream makes you choose between it, and the one you love more than anything in the world?

The money, the fame, the rush I got from performing—none of that was enough nor would it ever be again. In ten days, I’d felt more happy and fulfilled than I had the whole time I was gone. It wasn’t like those things didn’t bring me any joy, but the feeling I got from having Twilight so close to me outmatched anything else. I couldn’t do this anymore. I needed her.

“It’s okay,” Twilight whispered. I could feel her breath against my ear as she held me close. If I wasn’t so hysterical, I’d have been taken aback by how calm she sounded. I expected her to be more emotional than I was, but her voice wasn’t even trembling.

She kept whispering it in my ear every few moments. Each time she did, I relaxed a little more. My wailing regressed into sobbing, then into sniffling, and before long my breathing was stable. When I finally had some semblance of composure, I pulled myself away from her.

“I’m… I’m really sorry–” I stopped mid sentence as I felt her fingers touch my lips.

When I looked up at her, I could barely see her at all. All the crying rendered me temporarily blind. After wiping the tears off of my face, we looked each other in the eyes. Her own tears glistened off of her face, but for the first time this morning, she was smiling genuinely. The look on her face was infectious, I could feel my lips curling to match her expression.

“This isn’t the end,” she said, punctuated with a sniffle. “If I take a few courses this summer, I can graduate next winter. Then I can finally move out there with you. And we won’t ever have to be apart like this again.”

My smile faltered. “Yeah, but… that’s only one piece of the puzzle. Even if you move in with me, I’ll still be touring pretty frequently.” With a sigh, I looked away from her. “And depending on how well the next album does, we might be headlining. If that’s the case, we could be touring for almost all of next year.”

Her hand gently cupped my face, bringing my eyes back to hers. “That’s okay,” she replied. “It’s just one more year.”

My lips tightened as I held back even more tears. “That’s just it, though. I don’t want to wait another year. I… I don’t know if I can.”

“I know you can,” she spoke softly. “And once the year is over, I can move in, and—who knows—maybe I can come with you?”

Holding up my hand, I shook my head. “I couldn’t ask you to do that,” I contended. “Touring life is really hard. It would make you absolutely miserable, I couldn't do that to you.”

She was silent for a few moments. The comfort in her smile wavered for a moment as she contemplated her response. “Well… we’ll work something out when the time comes. The point is–” she paused, trying to catch her breath before it hitched. Before she attempted again, she held my face in both of her hands.

“You’re gonna go back out there, you, Dash and the others are going to make the best album you’ve made yet, and you’re gonna show everyone why they should know who you are. And when it’s all done, we’re gonna figure it out. This is not goodbye.”

The rest of the departure was a blur. Exiting the car, hand in hand, tears in our eyes. Walking to the terminal as slowly as we could without missing the flight, sniffling every few steps. And finally, standing at the gate in our last few moments on that trip.

Both of us tried to say something before we left, but if you asked either of us what we said, we couldn’t answer. What may register as a brief, choked noise in someone else’s ear graced mine like the most beautiful word of our love language.
> X – Several Minutes of Uninterrupted Silence Followed By a Hidden Track
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


{ X – Hidden Track }


“That’s the one!” Rainbow Dash exclaimed.

“Ugh, about time.” With a sigh of relief, I undid the strap on my guitar and placed it on the stand. “If you had me do that lead one more time I was gonna break this guitar over your head.”

“Hey, that might cure the headache I got from listening to you fuck it up a billion times in a row,” she fired back.

I playfully flipped her off, both of us laughing as I sat down next to her. Dash’s eyes were fixed on the computer screen as she clicked the mouse in her hand. Today was the last day of recording for our new album, and we were both ready for it to be over. All that was left were a few guitar lines me and her had to record, and then the stems would be ready to be sent off to production.

Rainbow Dash let out a deep sigh as she gave the mouse one last exaggerated click, turning away from the mixing board to face me. “And—thank fuck—that’s a wrap,” she exhaled. “This is definitely our best work yet.”

Groaning, I sank into my chair. “It better be,” I replied. “It took twice as long to write and record as the last album.”

“Don’t get comfy,” Dash remarked. “That was just recording; we gotta start rehearsing soon. There’s only one more month until we go on tour again.”

If I could have sunk further into the chair, I would have. Ever since I returned from Canterlot City a while ago, I’d been thoroughly assessing how I feel about touring. I thought that with enough time and relaxation, I would feel rejuvenated enough to tackle life on the road again.

But I spent an equal amount of time thinking about when and how to have this conversation.

I'd made my decision, and the time was now.

“Actually, Dash,” I began, “there’s something I need to talk to you about.”
> XI – International Exclusive
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


{ XI – International Exclusive }


You left one of your hoodies here—the gray one with the fleece lining on the inside.

Honestly, I was going to tell you. You wore it nearly every day you were here, so clearly it’s one you’re attached to. But I just can’t bring myself to tell you it’s here, and I hope you don’t realize it’s missing. If you do, please don’t ask for it back. Not because it’d be a hassle to send it back to you—even if it would be, I’d send it to you the moment you asked—but because I know you have others, and I think I need this one a little more than you do. At least for right now.

I’m not going to wear it, though. It’s much too big for me, and if I put it on, I’d probably look ridiculous for some reason or another, but that’s not why I want it.

When you’re on the road, we spend weeks living different lives. You experience so many things, meet so many people, do so many interesting things that you probably can’t even remember all of it. Every time you come around for a visit, you’re shaped a little differently because of it. You smell a little different, too. 

Sometimes, it’s not the most pleasant scent. I know you think I can’t tell that you’ve been smoking on the road, but every time you come home, it’s impossible not to notice. I don’t say anything, though. I really want to—that stuff is going to kill you, and I need you around for as long as possible—but, at least for now, I let it go.

That scent is an honest glimpse into the life I don’t get to live with you. The life where we’re separated, only able to talk when time permits it, and what a strict warden it can be. And I know everything you tell me is put through a filter. You try so hard not to upset me. It drives me crazy, but I know why you do it, and I appreciate it.

So when you’re not here, when I can’t talk to you, I can hold onto it, close my eyes, and imagine I’m there with you. Or, I can imagine you back here with me, laying on the bed, letting me cling to you like I’m trying to keep you from flying out of my grasp. But no matter how tight I hold, I’ll have to let go eventually. I know I can’t keep you. You are mine, but you are yours more so than that.

There’s nothing wrong with the term long-distance relationship, but it feels wrong; too simplistic. Distance can be quantified in numerous ways, and while you’re gone, it’s something I do to an obsessive degree.

Mileage is the first thing that comes to most people’s minds when they think of long-distance relationships, but there’s so much more to it. How long are we going to be apart this time, and if you don’t know, how long until we get to know?

And when I know you’re coming, counting becomes so exciting. I start by counting everything from months to minutes, and slowly but surely, I stop having to count each one of those units of time as the day draws nearer. But the moment we meet, another countdown starts. It’s an inverse of the last in every way, and even if it fills me with dread, it’s so hard to ignore.

We start with weeks worth of time together, but before I know it, weeks become days, days become hours, hours become minutes. Minutes become mile markers, mile markers become exits, exits become street names. Streets become terminals, and terminals become steps. And steps become precious seconds spent holding each other, waiting for the other to pull away because neither of us want to.

But we have to. That’s the only way to start the count over. And it hurts so much, especially when we don’t know how long it is. We never know if this is our last countdown until it’s over. That’s as reassuring as it is terrifying.

The improbability of us meeting and existing together is so astronomically slim that not even I can properly measure it. While I’m not superstitious, that makes me feel so lucky; and yet I feel cursed. Those same circumstances that led us to meeting are the same ones that have put us in this situation.

But that’s okay. You’re doing what you love, and I couldn’t be happier for you. One day, we’ll figure out how to close the distance between us for good. I haven’t the slightest clue of how to start on that, but it will happen.

Sometimes, when I think about you, there’s a tug I feel in my chest—somewhere around my right pectoral—and it pulls so hard it hurts. It’s like that’s where our bond is held, and when I think of you, it tightens. It tries to pull us together.

But when we’re too far apart, there’s nothing I can do to give that bond any slack. So, instead, I lay on the bed and hold onto your hoodie. And sometimes, that’s enough to make it hurt a little less.

So, until we meet again, please don’t ask for your hoodie back.