Chapter Text

Walking up the front steps to the school entrance, Twilight’s stomach twisted itself into another knot. Winter break was finally over. Her fourth semester at Crystal Prep was set to begin, and like many girls her age, Twilight was filled with dread over returning to school.

It wasn’t always this way. It was a recent development, and one she deeply resented. Twilight used to love going back to class. She still loved to learn—that would never change—but school used to be her favorite place for that very reason. Unfortunately, once she moved from eighth to ninth grade, her affection for it quickly dwindled.

For that, Twilight’s reasons were many, but if you asked her to list them, she would settle on a comfortable but complacent default: it was all overwhelming. That explanation was vague, and that was on purpose. Trying to narrow it down to one, or even a few reasons, was difficult, and Twilight didn’t want to sound whiny or ungrateful.

After all, for all intents and purposes, she was lucky. Twilight was enrolled in the most prestigious private high school in the state. Not only that, she’d been given a free ride, something she was essentially guaranteed since as far back as sixth grade. On top of that, the curriculum wasn’t particularly challenging. Sure, the work kept her busy, but only because it was designed to be time-consuming. That was one reason school became such a slog for her, but nowhere near the biggest.

Through most of her academic career, Twilight didn’t bother socializing with anyone. Aside from one or two friends throughout her life—the most notable being Moondancer in middle school—she saw making friends with others as a waste of time at best, and an unnecessary risk at worst. She wasn’t bitter, nor was she antisocial by any means. For her, it was as much apathy as it was self-preservation.

Twilight had no interest in playing dumb little social games others her age liked to play. As far as she was concerned, school was a job. She was there to do the work, get something out of it, and then go home. At one point, avoiding others was a winning strategy in that regard. It had worked for most of her school career.

To her dismay, most of the other students at Crystal Prep did not care about Twilight’s attempts at avoidance. Despite her disinterest in associating with any of her peers, they forced her to interact with them, whether she liked it or not.

Twilight jumped as someone grabbed her shoulders from behind. “Morning, Sparky!”

And it seemed like they weren’t going to waste any time reminding her of that fact. Nevertheless, Twilight refused to dignify her with any verbal response.

Indigo Zap draped her arm around Twilight, finally facing her. “Hey, you’ve got Fleur De Lis’s book report ready, don’t you?”

Grumbling to herself, Twilight swung her bag around, unzipping it and digging through its contents until she found a manilla folder.

“Atta girl! You’re a lifesaver, Sparky.” Despite her seemingly warm demeanor, she snatched the folder out of Twilight’s hand. “We were so busy hanging out with our friends over winter break, she just didn’t have the time to do it. You understand, don’t you?”

Twilight’s already threadbare patience was quickly wearing even thinner. The most infuriating thing about Indigo Zap wasn’t her antagonistic comments, but the way she delivered them. They were obscured by the thinnest layer of amicability she could get away with. One could be forgiven for thinking she was being genuine, but Twilight had been through this enough times to know it was merely a façade.

Still, giving any kind of reaction beyond tepid indifference was never a good idea. She just kept walking.

“We knew you’d have her back," Zap prodded. "You’re always there for us, aren’t you?”

Twilight stopped, taking a moment to temper herself before speaking. “Do you need anything else, or can I get to my class?”

Zap leaned against the wall of lockers nearby, the smug grin on her face widening.

“Aww, come on, Sparky. Don’t be like that. I haven’t even gotten a chance to tell you about Suri Polomare’s party last Saturday! It was pretty wild. Lots of fun, too.”

Twilight gave a deadpan stare.

“Almost everyone in our grade was there,” she continued. “Though, now that I think about it, I don’t remember seeing you there. Weren’t you invited?”

Even if she had known there was a party, even if she’d been expressly invited, she wouldn’t have shown. This was just another way Zap was trying to get under her skin, but at least it was relatively ineffective. Twilight rolled her eyes, continuing to her next class.

Indigo Zap followed close behind. “I guess not, huh? Is that why you’re in such a bad mood, Sparky?”

Twilight winced. She hated that stupid nickname, and after hearing it so many times, she was ready to burst. Still, she held firm. Indigo would get bored eventually, or at least that’s what Twilight told herself.

“Oh, I bet I know what it is! I guess you must have heard the rumors already,” she continued. “Lemon Zest and Sugarcoat got really close to each other at the party. Seems like they might be getting together.” Zap stepped in Twilight’s way, wearing an unsettlingly convincing frown. “It’s a real shame, you know? I mean, since I know you have a thing for Sugarcoat, but–”

“No, I don’t!” she exclaimed. Unfortunately, that was the last straw. Twilight’s resolve had been tested one too many times. “Just because you keep saying that over and over doesn’t make it true.”

The closest thing to a winning strategy was to not respond, but for reasons she tried not to think about, that particular comment struck a nerve. As such, she bit her tongue one second too late.

“Twilight, come on now,” she replied. “We saw what happened in PE last semester. I don’t know how many times I have to tell you your secret is safe with me. We don’t have to keep doing this denial thing.”

Even if there was a secret, that was a complete lie. It was impossible to quantify how many times Twilight had been called a creep because of that incident, and there was no question as to who told everyone about it.

Twilight grit her teeth together, glancing down at the folder in Zap’s hand. Perhaps because it was still early in the morning, she made the ill-advised decision to bite back at her.

“You really don’t value yourself at all, do you?”

“Again with the projection, Sparky?” said Zap.

“I know you follow Fleur De Lis around all slack-jawed, like being around her is going to put you ahead, or make you smarter, or something. But you know that’s hopeless, right?”

Indigo Zap's eyes narrowed, but her grin remained.

“I did that book report for Fleur, but do you really think she’s going to pass? I mean, if she didn’t actually read the book, she’s probably going to fail. Even if she did, I wouldn’t be surprised if she failed anyway. You know that, don’t you? That’s the kind of example you’re following. What do you think that says about you?”

The playful smile that had adorned Indigo Zap’s face melted into bitter contempt. She pushed Twilight up against the lockers, pressing her shoulders against the steel. Her hold wasn’t particularly strong, but Twilight knew that was calculated. Zap had to leave some room for plausible deniability just in case a faculty member decided to care that day.

“Well, if she fails, we’ll know who to blame. And if that’s the case, we’ll just have to look into taking some corrective action again, won’t we?” She leaned in closer. “Watch the way you talk to me, and especially watch the way you talk about her, you little creep.”

Externally, Twilight showed no emotion. Internally, she wanted to scream—not out of fear, but frustration. The logical part of her knew that Indigo Zap wouldn’t dare hit her in the middle of the hallway, but the emotional part of her was so done with this. She couldn’t help but ask herself a question she already knew the answers to: why did she have to deal with this?

Indigo Zap looked up as the warning bell rang. “Well, looks like I should go deliver this. Been nice talking to you, Sparky.” She leaned in close. “Oh, and even if she passes with this? We’re probably going to pay you a visit later today. I’m sure she’ll want to chat after I tell her how you ran your mouth this morning.”

Zap let her go, smirking once again. “See you later today!” she beamed, leaving Twilight with her back against the wall.

Considering Fleur De Lis was unlikely to pass off Twilight’s work as her own, she’d already been anticipating a ‘visit’ from her later, anyway. If nothing else, she knew it was coming now. Twilight was relieved she packed her lunch the night before. It would be wise for her to avoid the cafeteria and find somewhere to hide during lunch.

Especially since Twilight hinted at what her plan was all along. Precious days of her winter break may have been wasted doing this stupid book report for Fleur de Lis, and Twilight worked very hard to make it the best report anyone could ever ask for. So much so that, even if Fleur had read the book, there was no way she could follow through with Twilight’s presentation and pass it off as her own. And how could Twilight be blamed for being thorough? Fleur wanted a perfect grade, after all.

Twilight dragged her feet to her first class, not in any hurry to get there. It was abstract algebra, and even if that sounded enticing to her, it would be a week or so before they finished the refresher portion of the curriculum.

On the way there, she thought about her big project. If she had the time, she would have made a detour to her lab to check the readings. It had been weeks since the last time she’d checked, and she was eager to see if there was anything new.

That project took up nearly all of her mental bandwidth over winter break. If it all panned out the way she wanted to, it could easily be her ticket out of Crystal Prep and into some kind of independent study program. She’d been eyeing a few—most notably the one offered by Everton—and if she could manage to get into one, her high school sentence would be effectively commuted.

Unfortunately, thanks to her pointless encounter with Zap, she’d be risking her perfect attendance record if she went to check. But that was okay. As long as there was progress, it would all be worth it.

Twilight took a seat in the back corner of the class, an empty desk in front of and beside her. At one point in her life, she always sat up front. Since entering high school, she’d become paranoid about what happened behind her. Being in the back meant that if anyone was going to stare at her, she could look back at them to repel their eyes. Or, if anyone was going to throw something at her, she’d have a better chance of seeing it coming.

As the rest of the students filtered in, Twilight noticed someone she hadn’t seen last semester—a strange sight considering most new admissions to CPA were freshmen, and the school was very clear about not allowing admission any time other than the start of the year.

The girl stood next to the teacher’s desk at the front of the class, her expression deadpan and her stance rigid. She was tall, somewhere around six feet in height. Her broad shoulders and the way her uniform hugged her gave her an imposing stature, one that accentuated her intimidating, yet aloof demeanor. Her hair flowed well past her shoulders in a mix of gold and scarlet. And despite her half-lidded stare, her vivid, teal eyes had an unmistakable edge to them.

Perhaps most notable about her appearance was the black leather jacket over her uniform. Outerwear was supposed to be kept in lockers during school hours, so Twilight couldn’t help but wonder how she got away with wearing that. Perhaps she hadn’t been reprimanded for it yet.

“Good morning, class.” Miss Versine greeted as she walked into the room. “I hope you’ve enjoyed your time off.”

A chorus of tired groans rang out through the class. Twilight stayed silent, but found the reaction relatable.

The teacher smiled and rolled her eyes. “Well, before we begin, I would like to introduce a new student.” Miss Versine held out her hand in the new girls’ direction. “This is Sunset Shimmer.”

The class was dead silent. Twilight might have felt bad if not for the fact that Sunset hardly looked like she cared.

“As most of you are undoubtedly aware, Crystal Prep does not typically admit students between semesters, but Sunset is no ordinary student. Due to her prowess, reputation, and prior accomplishments, Principal Cinch has graciously given her exemption from said rule. She is a welcome addition to Crystal Prep’s student body, and I expect you all to do your best to make her feel at home.”

The rest of the student’s reactions ranged from lukewarm to nonexistent, but Twilight’s eyes went wide. The teacher’s description of Sunset’s accomplishments were frustratingly opaque, which made Twilight incredibly curious.

Her excitement was quickly diminished, though. Even if she wanted to know what her previous accolades were, it was unlikely this girl was going to share anything with her. It would be a miracle if she talked to Twilight at all, especially once she got settled in. From there, it couldn't be long before she treated Twilight the same way every other student did.

Though, at the same time, Twilight felt bad for her. The fact that she was such an extraordinary case, and the fact that she’d already made the kind of progress other kids were attending CPA to try and make in the first place would make her a target—probably just as much of one as Twilight was.

“Miss Shimmer, would you like to tell us about yourself?” The teacher inquired.

She stepped forward. “I’m Sunset," she said in a low, tired voice. "I’m not from around here. My last school was holding me back, so I transferred. That’s all you need to know.”

Miss Versine furrowed her brow, almost like she was expecting less of a cut and dry introduction. She cleared her throat. “Very well, please take a seat, Sunset. And do leave your coat on the rack near the door. I would advise against wearing it in the halls. It is against the school dress code.”

“I’m good, thanks,” she replied, ignoring the teacher’s request and making her way to the back of the class. Miss Versine looked stunned at Sunset’s blatant disregard, yet surprisingly did nothing to reprimand the new girl for her actions. Either Ms. Versine was showing her some grace—a privilege rarely afforded to any student—or this girl must have been really special.

Twilight could feel her heartbeat pick up as she realized Sunset was headed right for the empty desk next to her. Sunset dropped her bag on the ground next to her chair, plopping down in the chair and slipping out of her coat, draping it against the back of the seat.

With Sunset’s introduction out of the way, the class went on. Within the first few minutes, Twilight noticed the students looking in her direction. At first, she mistakenly thought they were staring at her—something that wouldn’t have surprised her—but she soon realized they were sneaking glances at Sunset. It wasn’t hard to imagine why. Even outside of her apparently impressive merits, she looked far removed from the stereotypical appearance of a Crystal Prep student.

Her jacket was well-worn. Instead of her tie being under her vest like the standard school uniform protocol, it was pulled out and hanging over it. Her backpack was beaten and frayed. The average CPA student gave off one of three images: precocious, affluent, or both. However, Sunset defied that dichotomy entirely. Everything about her—aesthetic, attitude, and aura—gave off the vibe of a delinquent who’d somehow wandered into a much higher echelon than she belonged to.

At the same time, Twilight wondered if that was intentional. Perhaps she leaned into that intimidation factor as an aposematism of sorts. If that were the case, she’d succeeded. She may not have clout by virtue of being new, but anyone would be forgiven for thinking twice about stepping up to someone like her.

That, and if she was as smart and as accomplished as she seemed, what did she have to prove by maintaining a professional appearance? If what the teacher said was true, and she’d made her mark where it mattered, then school must have been a formality due to her age.

In any case, this girl captivated Twilight. From her admittance to her appearance, everything about her was different. As much as she hated aligning herself with the other students, even she wasn’t immune to this girl’s intrigue.

“Can I help you?” Sunset whispered.

Twilight shook her head, snapping out of her trance. She could feel her face flushing with embarrassment. Just how long had she been staring? At least the relaxed smirk on the other girl’s face made it look like she wasn’t upset about it, but Twilight knew better than to accept a friendly face at face-value.

“Sorry,” Twilight whispered back, “I was just zoning out.”

Sunset breathed a quiet chuckle. “Don’t sweat it.”

Twilight turned her attention back to the front of the class, but found it impossible to pay attention to the lesson. For some reason, she couldn’t take her mind off the girl next to her. Maybe she was jealous? Maybe she was scared of her? It was too hard to pin down.

One thing was for certain, though: something about Sunset had completely captured her attention. Twilight just hoped they’d get along well enough to figure out what that something was.

Chapter Text

By the time the bell rang for lunch, Twilight already had her things packed away. She knew she was being watched and pursued between classes, and was making moves as quickly, silently and unpredictably as she could.

It was important to dodge her usual path through the school. Even if Fluer De Lis and her pair of dimwitted cronies were already after her for mouthing off to Indigo Zap, there was no way she managed a good grade with that book report. Not just because there was no way she could give a presentation on something she knew nothing about, but because Twilight intentionally did it in a way that would make it painfully clear Fleur hadn’t actually done any of the work.

It was a dangerous act of subterfuge, but it was the only way she could think to finally get Fleur to stop expecting Twilight to do her school work. The only reason it took her days to do the report was because she was needlessly thorough and maliciously verbose. When Fleur gave her presentation, she would struggle to read many of the words even Twilight had to use a thesaurus to find. She would inevitably fail, and when she did, Twilight could fall back on the fact that she’d done the best she could, and she wouldn’t be lying.

The issue was that, even though Fleur was making her do her school work, she wasn’t totally stupid. There was a slim chance she would somehow manage in spite of Twilight’s meticulous detail and circuitous verbiage, but there was a threateningly high chance she would catch on to Twilight’s scheme. It was a hail mary, one she didn’t feel all that confident about, but one she had to take for the sake of her own remaining sanity.

Originally, Twilight was going to eat lunch in her lab provided by the school. She had left some of her devices running over the break for data collection, and had planned to check those readings before lunch. But when she spotted Cold Forecast slinking around the halls more than once since her first period, she adjusted course.

It was infuriating. She’d been waiting all morning to check those readings, but this interpersonal nonsense she found herself mired in was continuously getting in the way. Once she knew she was being chased, she elected to take the long way to all of her classes, carrying as many of her books as she could at once.

At lunch, she took a particularly roundabout route to the library, and sat at a table in the most sequestered corner she could find. Once she felt the coast was clear, she unpacked her food and began eating, though she didn’t have much of an appetite.

Typically, students weren’t permitted to bring food or drink into the library, but thanks to having been a librarian’s assistant last year, Twilight was given special permission. She never realized how useful that privilege would eventually become, but she was grateful for it in that moment.

She sighed before taking another bite of her turkey sandwich. The first day back from break, and she already wanted the semester to be over. It was hard not to be bitter—not just toward Fleur and her lackeys, but the whole school in general. The place she once loved more than home felt akin to a prison, one where avoiding the other inmates was vital. At least the library provided a safe haven.

Just as she was about to take another bite, she saw someone moving out of the corner of her eye. Her heart started beating faster. She thought Cold Forecast had managed to catch up with her, but thankfully, it was someone else. Though, even after she realized who it was, she could still hear her heart pounding in her ears.

It was Sunset Shimmer. She was staring at a shelf of books across the aisle from Twilight, her hand pensively grabbing her chin. It didn’t seem like she knew Twilight was there, which gave her ample time to stare.

It wasn’t like she wanted to stare, but since that first period, she really couldn’t help herself. Her attire notwithstanding, something about Sunset intrigued her, fascinated her, captivated her, even.

Twilight shook her head, looking back down at her lunch. Those thoughts were creepy, and her cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she tried to push them out of her mind. Besides, if she’d let them cook any longer, they were sure to boil over, and Twilight would rather never have to address such a mess.

Her heart nearly stopped as she heard footsteps approaching her table.

“Hey,” Sunset greeted in that stoic, husky voice. “Twilight, right?”

Twilight looked up, her mind and heart in a neck and neck race. She attempted to breathe out her own greeting that barely came out. She wasn't even sure she'd made any noise at all.

“You mind if I sit here?”

“Not at all!” Twilight answered much louder than she intended. “It’s just me here,” she whispered.

Sunset's mouth curled into a grin on one side, just like it had in their first class. She pulled one of the chairs out from under the table, lounging in the seat before focusing on her book.

Twilight wasn’t exactly sure what to do. She couldn’t stare anymore, but she wanted to. She couldn’t think of how to begin a conversation, but she wanted to. And she couldn’t stop thinking about the girl sitting next to her, but she really wanted to.

“I’m not gonna bite,” said Sunset.

Twilight froze.

“You can just talk to me instead of looking my way every two seconds, you know,” Sunset remarked, that same warm, low tone as before.

Staring at Sunset like a deer in headlights for a few seconds, Twilight finally blinked. “Sorry,” she stammered. “I’m just… not used to, uhm, well, this.”

Sunset raised an eyebrow. “You’re not used to sitting next to someone?”

“Yes. I mean, no. I mean, both?” Twilight took a moment to actually formulate a coherent sentence. “Most of the other students aren’t really interested in being around me.”

A light chuckle escaped Sunset. “From the vibes of this place, you’re probably better off for it.”

Twilight let out her own half-hearted laugh. The other girl’s lax demeanor helped a little to ease her anxiety, but she was still on edge. There was no way to know what her intentions were, after all.

Another bout of silence fell between the two. Sunset was holding a book in one hand, her other arm hanging over the back rest. She leaned back in her chair, tilting it so that the front legs were suspended. Despite her relaxed disposition, her eyes scanned each page thoroughly.

Twilight caught a glimpse of the book title. The cover read Quantum Entanglement and Its Implications On Alternate Universes in a blocky white font. Twilight found that to be a peculiar choice. Not even just for Sunset—though, once again, her image did not fit what she imagined someone interested in such a subject would look like—but for almost anyone at Crystal Prep.

This was partially due to the fact that not even she would think to read something like that. Maybe she should have. It could possibly be related to the project she’d been working on in her lab, but there was a good chance the info in the book would be outdated, incorrect, or find a way to fly over her head. Either way, it seemed like a waste of time for her to read. But seeing Sunset interested in it piqued her curiosity. Perhaps it pertained to her aforementioned academic accolades.

Twilight cleared her throat. “So, um, quantum entanglement,” she remarked. “Interesting subject, huh?”

The other girl raised a shoulder, her eyes not moving from the book in front of her.

“You could say I have a passing interest.” She licked her thumb and turned a page. ”Honestly, I’ve read this one a few times already, but I figured I would check this one out since it’s a newer edition than the one at CHS. One of the perks of going to private school I guess.”

“Ah,” Twilight responded, unsure of what to say beyond that. She took a mental note of Sunset’s response, however. Specifically the fact that she used to go to Canterlot High.

Another awkward lull fell between them. Twilight had so many questions about why she was interested in such an assumedly complex subject, but she couldn’t just start interrogating Sunset out of the blue—not when they’d only known each other for less than a day. It was a miracle Sunset had sat next to her this long, and the last thing Twilight wanted to do was give her a reason to stay away from her like all the other students did.

“So,” Sunset began, pausing to lick her thumb and turn a page, “how come they let you eat in here? I walked in with a lollipop in my mouth and the librarian kept barking at me until I threw it out. What gives?”

“Oh, well, uhm,” Twilight stumbled through her words, afraid she had somehow inadvertently offended Sunset. Instead of offering an explanation, she offered something else. “Did you want some of my lunch?”

For the first time since she sat down, Sunset looked away from her book, an incredulous smile on her lips.

“No?” she said with a chuckle. “I just wanted to know how you’re getting away with it. I’m not trying to steal your food. Besides, I’m a vegetarian. Or a pescatarian if you want to get pedantic, but I eat fish so rarely that I don’t bother making the distinction usually.”

Twilight relaxed, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. That was another odd detail about her. Someone with her stature didn’t give the impression of being on a diet traditionally low in fats and proteins.

So far, many of her preconceived notions of this girl appeared to be incorrect. For someone so obsessed with books, Twilight felt bad for judging this one by its cover.

“I volunteered to be a librarian’s assistant during freshman year,” Twilight explained. “Sometimes, I’d come here to help out during lunch, so Mrs. Concordance gave me permission to eat my lunch here any time I felt like it.”

“So is this where you usually go for lunch, then?”

Twilight wasn't sure how truthfully she should answer Sunset. Why would she want to know that? Had Fleur already gotten to Sunset, and was she here for reconnaissance?

To be fair, from their interaction so far, Twilight had no reason to expect her to be up to anything. But they had only just met, and Twilight learned the hard way ages ago that one must never let their guard down at Crystal Prep for any reason.

Besides, what other reason would Sunset be interested in her? Why else would she go out of her way to find her in this secluded spot of the library? Why else would she sit next to her and spark up a conversation, eventually asking questions about her habits?

The most likely conclusion she could draw was that Sunset saw her the way everyone else here did: as a means to get ahead. Doing favors for Fleur was a quick way to climb the social ladder, and Sunset surely wasn’t here because Twilight was some sort of great conversationalist.

Even still, Twilight couldn’t deny the feeling in her gut. Something about Sunset just felt different. Even outside of her delinquent appearance, her nebulous credentials, and inscrutable attitude, the way she carried herself was unlike anyone else she’d met there. Maybe the dog-eat-dog culture of Crystal Prep hadn’t sunk its teeth into her yet. Perhaps it was foolish to trust her before it had the chance to, but Twilight felt too conflicted to know for sure.

Finally, she settled on a compromise: the truth, but not the whole truth.

“Uhm, not always? I usually eat in the main dining area with everyone else, or my lab, but today I just figured I’d get some homework out of the way so I have more free time at home. Easier to get it done in a quiet place like this”

Sunset raised her brows and smirked. “Is that a subtle way of telling me to get lost?”

“Wha-? No! I wasn’t–”

A sharp laugh interrupted Twilight. “Relax, I’m just messing with you.”

A small part of Twilight thought she was being teased maliciously, but a bigger part of her couldn’t help but smile and giggle, albeit more awkwardly than she intended.

“Now, let me ask you this,” Sunset began. “Does that sleepy looking girl with the blue hair have anything to do with why you're eating here?”

Twilight could feel the hairs on her neck stand up. “What?”

Sunset pointed approximately toward the door of the library. “There was some weirdo who asked me if I'd seen you before I came in here.”

Her stomach churning, Twilight tried to maintain composure. “Did you tell her I was in here?”

“Well, no,” she answered. “I didn't even know you were in here until I saw you.”

“That was Cold Forecast,” Twilight replied, trying to remain calm. “Does that mean she's in here looking for me?”

“Chill,” said Sunset. “I told her you were on the opposite side of the school.”

Twilight's mounting panic was quickly replaced with overwhelming confusion. “You did?”

Sunset nodded.

“Why?”

She shrugged. “Because I don't like her.”

"Why not?"

"I don't know," she answered. "I just kinda don't."

“And you didn't know I was here.”

“Uh huh.”

“So why did you tell her that?”

“Because I wanted to mess with her. Plus, I had a feeling you'd be in here, and if I was right, then I would have succeeded at screwing with her.”

Twilight was absolutely perplexed by that exchange, but found it hard to muster up a reply. Why didn’t she like Cold Forecast? Granted, in Twilight’s mind, there wasn’t much to like about any of Fleur De Lis’s entourage, but Sunset probably didn’t know that yet. Still, it was a relief to know Sunset had intentionally misdirected her, as confusing as that was.

“They give you a lab here?” Sunset asked before Twilight could inquire any further.

Twilight shook herself to attention. “Uhm, kind of. I’m working on a special project, so they gave me my own space for it. It’s nothing impressive, but it’s a nice perk to have.

“Huh, neat,” she replied. Sunset closed her book and slipped it into her bag. “Well, I should get going. I have no idea where my next class is, and this place is enormous compared to my last school, so I’m sure I’ll be searching for a while.”

“I could show you if you’d like?” Twilight offered.

While she was trying to be genuinely helpful, she was also selfishly motivated. If Sunset was next to her, maybe that would keep her safe between classes. Then again, if Sunset were working with Fleur, that would lead Twilight right into a trap. Every move forward was a gamble, though, and Twilight couldn’t just shake the dice forever.

“Nah, don’t worry about it. I appreciate it, though.” Sunset stood up, slinging her bag around her shoulder. “Be seeing you around.”

She was already almost out of view by the time Twilight worked herself up enough to say anything. “Right, see you then!”

A loud shush came from a couple aisles over. Twilight leaned forward, her hands on the back of her head as she cringed. Regulating her vocal volume was seldom an issue for her, but for some reason, she found it difficult throughout that entire interaction. It wasn’t exactly hard to reason why—it’s not like she was used to talking to anyone outside of herself and her immediate family—but it was still strange to think about.

Despite her anxiety throughout their encounter, Twilight felt the intensity of her nerves increase once Sunset disappeared. The lunch period was almost over. Twilight would need to get up and navigate to her next class momentarily. Even if she left then—minutes before the bell was due—there was nothing saying she wouldn't run into one of the parties she was trying to avoid. And for all she knew, Sunset could have told any one of them where she was, even if she'd held an amicable attitude the whole time.

But sitting and waiting wasn’t an option. Twilight packed her half-eaten lunch back into her backpack and made her way out of the library, hoping she’d make it through the next handful of minutes safe and unscathed. Regardless of the fact that Sunset allegedly pointed Cold Forecast in the wrong direction, she couldn't be the only one looking for Twilight.

Chapter Text

Much to Twilight’s relief, the rest of the day passed by without incident. She was able to make it to and from all of her classes without being accosted. The fact that nothing had happened yet felt like proof enough that Sunset wasn’t on Fleur de Lis’s side. Still, that didn’t stop the pool of paranoia from overflowing inside her by the time the final bell rang. She'd avoided many battles, but the war wasn't over.

Over the course of the day, Twilight began to let optimism influence her thoughts. Perhaps Fluer de Lis’s presentation went off without a hitch? Maybe Indigo Zap forgot about everything she said this morning? That might have been why there was no retaliation.

While that was good in the short term, if that were the case, that meant there was likely no escape from being her academic lackey for the foreseeable future. If that book report wasn’t too intricately detailed for Fleur to adapt without having read the book, there was little hope for freedom.

But that was the optimistic scenario. The more likely scenario was the pessimistic one: she had failed, and when Twilight hadn’t shown at lunch, she just planned to meet her after school. After all, why would Cold Forecast have been looking for her otherwise?

The idea of meeting them outside of class frightened Twilight. At least there would be eyes on her in the cafeteria, or in the halls. Even if the faculty and staff rarely cared about what the students were doing, if there was a violent escalation like Zap had done in the past, she would have to be reprimanded on those grounds if she was caught.

After school was outside of the staff’s jurisdiction. Even if it happened on campus, if there were no witnesses, if there was no CCTV footage of the incident, then even if she came to school the next day with two black eyes and a broken nose, no action would be taken. Thankfully, that hadn’t ever happened to her, but she’d heard of it happening to others, and even seen it for herself more than once. And while physical acts of violence had been enacted on her before, they were usually kept to areas of her body where the marks would be hard to see.

Banking on the fact they’d be waiting impatiently for her after school, Twilight made a detour to her lab after the final bell. Even with her worries hanging over her head, she was excited as she unlocked the door. Winter break had come and gone, and that meant it had been nearly a month since she checked for more of those bizarre frequencies she noticed back in the fall, and she was eager to see if there were any more.

So far, she hadn’t had a lot of luck figuring out where these frequencies were coming from, and even less figuring out what they were even related to. The only lead she had to go off of was a massive spike in electromagnetism over the entire town. All of the information she had been able to gather was pinned to a bulletin board above her laptop, and that amounted to a few papers, but nothing cohesive.

Twilight checked all of her devices, making sure the cabling was properly seated in each one. It was important to make sure hardware connections were secure before examining findings as that would explain any anomalies before she had a chance to encounter them. Sure enough, each device was secure and running.

Gently tapping the laptop keyboard, Twilight was greeted by her lock screen, punching in the thirty one digit pin code she had memorized. Checking the OS runtime, she was able to confirm that her computer was running in tandem with the rest of her machinery.

Opening a batch file on her desktop, she watched as several command prompt windows flashed on screen. After that, multiple programs opened simultaneously, each of them pulling up the relevant information she was looking for. As they loaded, Twilight almost felt like salivating. Any information was an opportunity to make advances with this project, and she’d been waiting far too long for anything to happen.

So when the programs loaded, and she saw nothing but a few insignificant bumps in her readings, her dismay was almost palpable. She slumped over in her seat and almost felt like crying.

It just didn’t make any sense. For two weeks, these frequencies surged and increased in appearances, crescendoing until halfway through fall. Suddenly there was a gigantic spike, one that coincided with a random earthquake—an inexplicable phenomena considering they were nowhere near any fault lines—and then the frequency nearly flatlined.

Twilight may have put all her eggs in this basket, but at the time, it seemed like this was really going to turn out to be something big. Now, months after beginning her search, she had nothing to show for it.

This wouldn’t have stressed her out if it weren’t for the fact that Principal Cinch would be expecting results very soon. Twilight half expected to be called to her office sometime that day to report her findings, and was grateful when that wasn’t the case. But it was still a question of when, not if.

Closing everything outside of the EM frequency detectors that had been running, Twilight sighed as she exited the lab, locking the door behind her. From beginning to end, this day was a waste. At the very least—barring any further incidents—it was over.

Twilight decided to exit out of the back of the school. If there was an ambush waiting for her, it’d almost definitely be at the front. Even still, the moment Twilight felt the cold outside air against her cheeks, her stomach twisted into a knot. And with every step she took away from the school’s back entrance, the knot would tighten.

“Twilight!” a voice cried. “There you are, come quick!”

She hadn’t even made it around the building before she was being hailed by someone. And of course, it was Indigo Zap

“It’s Sugarcoat!” Zap exclaimed. “She’s over here in the alley between the main and research wings! We need your help!”

Twilight knew nothing was wrong. Zap was just making good on her promise from this morning. She had to question why she used such a nonsensical veneer to conceal her motives. Why would Sugarcoat be in an alley between buildings? Why would Zap be there? Or anyone? It was no wonder Fleur depended on Twilight to do her work for her.

But at the same time—and Twilight hated the fact that she even entertained this thought—what if Sugarcoat was in trouble? What would happen if Twilight just walked away, only to find out something seriously bad happened to her? It’s not like they ever talked anyway, but they never would if Twilight ignored her in her time of need.

Of course, the decision was never Twilight’s to begin with. Zap roughly grabbed her wrist and yanked her forward. “Come on, we don’t have any time to waste!”

Trying to pull her arm away from Zap’s grip was a fool’s errand. Zap may have been more athletic than buff, but Twilight had hardly any upper body strength of her own. Besides, considering Indigo Zap was the star of the school’s track team, it was difficult enough not to lose balance and fall face-first into the cold grass.

As they turned the corner into the space between the school's wings, it all looked clear at first. For a single naïve moment, Twilight thought Zap might have been serious. Being dragged into an alley seldom preceded anything good, but maybe this time would be different. Maybe there was finally a reason for them to set aside their differences.

Twilight’s wishful thinking came to a screeching halt when she saw Cold Forecast come into view around Zap’s left shoulder. She wore that same icy, deadpan stare that seemed permanently affixed to her face, underlined by the thick bags under her eyes.

Even worse than that, on the right was Fleur de Lis, looking just as livid as Twilight had expected.

Once they were in view, Indigo Zap turned around, tugging Twilight forward so fast she nearly ran into her. Zap grabbed her shoulders right before impact, pushing her against one of the brick walls in the alley, enough to suspend her an inch off the ground. Zap's grip had been light that morning, but this time, she made Twilight feel like she was being crushed.

After being briefly disoriented, Twilight’s vision centered on the three nasty looks before her. A familiar fear washed over her, but she was determined not to show it. More than just revenge, satisfaction was what Fleur was after, and if she could avoid giving it to her, she would.

“Explain yourself,” Fleur hissed, venom practically dripping from her tongue.

“Explain what?” Twilight stammered.

“Did you really think you were going to get away with this?”

“Get away with what?”

Zap loosened her grip on Twilight’s shoulders, but pinned her against the wall even harder, her heels knocking against the cold brick wall behind her.

“Come now, being the smartest student denies you the privilege of playing dumb,” she answered.

Cold Forecast rolled her eyes. “I don’t see why you don’t just have Zap knock her out so we can go home. The longer we spend here, the more likely we’re gonna get caught.”

“I thought I told you to shut up!” Fleur barked, turning her attention back to Twilight with narrow eyes. “Even if you hadn’t run your mouth this morning, I would have figured out you were setting me up.”

“I don’t know,” said Twilight. “From the sounds of it, it really doesn’t seem like you did.”

That got her a little more pressure against the wall from Indigo Zap. Part of her knew she shouldn’t mouth off anymore than she had this morning. But even though Twilight sat through paranoia about this moment the whole day, now that she was here, she was resigned to whatever they had in store for her.

Still, Twilight maintained her ignorance. “Fleur, I don’t know what you’re talking about. You asked me to do your report, and I did my best. What do you want from me?”

“Oh, goodness, well, when you put it that way, it all makes sense!” She pulled several rolled-up sheets of paper from her pocket. “Clearly the only reason you would include such complicated words in my report was for the sake of due diligence. I mean, really, who doesn't know words like polyphiloprogenitive, and valetudinarian, and malopropism–”

“Malapropism,” Twilight corrected, earning her another shove against the wall.

“My point exactly,” Fleur growled. “You were trying to trip me up, and because of your deceptive little trick, I got a C minus!”

How she managed to get a passing grade, Twilight could not fathom.

“But you didn't fail, did you?”

“Yes, but I wanted a perfect score!”

“Well, maybe if you just did your work like you–” yet another push into the wall.

“Oh, Twilight. We’ve tried to make this easy on you. All I asked was that you help me—I mean, help us get ahead, and for you to stay behind. If you just did at least one of those, you would be safe. We could have even been friends! You wouldn’t be so lonely! Doesn’t that sound nice?”

Twilight gulped, holding back a scoff.

“But, instead, you’ve insulted me and my colleagues with your defiance and subterfuge. And all because you don’t want to give up your spot at the top—the spot that I—we deserve.”

Cold Forecast and Indigo Zap shared a glance between each other, but didn’t dare interrupt their witless leader’s monologue. Had they not been abetting Fleur's continued abuse, Twilight might have felt bad for them. Did they not realize they meant as much to her as Twilight did—maybe even less? Almost definitely not. But considering the role they were playing, Twilight felt they deserved each other.

“I guess we’ll just have to show you what happens when you don’t follow the rules,” Fleur stated. “Again.”

Twilight’s heart kept beating faster and faster. She didn’t know what they planned to do to her this time, but going from past experience, she had a good idea of what to expect. Unfortunately, that did nothing to assuage Twilight’s impending dread.

Zap drew back her arm, priming herself to hit her right in the gut. Twilight tensed up, bracing for impact.

“Twilight?” a husky voice called from the front of the alley. “What are you doing down here?”

All three girls’ attention turned that way. A tall figure stood in the entrance before slowly making their way toward them. A tense silence hung in the air until the silhouette came into view. The moment that leather jacket was visible, it became clear who it was.

It was Sunset Shimmer. She looked up and down at Indigo Zap, almost like she was sizing her up. “Put her down for me, would you?” That may have been a question, but judging by her tone, she wasn’t asking.

“This has nothing to do with you, new girl,” Fleur snapped. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll turn around and–”

“I don’t remember saying anything to you,” Sunset interrupted.

“You’d better listen to her,” added Zap. “You don’t want to be involved in this.”

“Actually, I already am,” she said. “I’m supposed to be giving her a ride home, and I need to get going, so you’ve already made your stupid garbage my problem.”

Twilight had no idea what Sunset was talking about. While that was news to her, it certainly wasn’t unwelcome.

Sunset pointed to Twilight. “So put her down,” she commanded with a scowl. “Now.”

“You really have no idea who you’re messing with,” Cold Forecast warned. “You’re already on our list after lying to me at lunch, so you’d better clear out of here right now before we decide to make it worse.”

“I know who all of you are, and I really don’t care. Now–” Sunset turned to Indigo Zap again, this time with an even sharper glare, “–do you mind putting your skinny little arm down and letting her go like I asked, or do you need me to do that for you?”

Indigo Zap growled. “I’d love to see you try.”

Sunset huffed. “Don’t worry, I won’t have to ‘try’ at all.”

“You’re just looking for a fight, huh?” asked Zap. “You look the type.”

“And you look as smart as you sound.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Zap finally let go. As Twilight's feet hit the ground, she nearly collapsed. She realized just how hard it was to breathe while being held like that. She began wheezing, reaching into her coat pocket and taking a hit of her inhaler.

When Twilight looked back up at Sunset, the girl was looking down at her, a much softer look in her eyes. She motioned her head back, which Twilight took as a signal to stand closer to her. Once Twilight was at her side, that angry-yet-deadpan stare returned.

Even still, Zap seemed undeterred. “You think just because you’re shaped like a brick means I can’t take you?”

The two other girls rallied behind her. Despite Zap’s snide remark and being outnumbered, Sunset looked completely undaunted. In fact, she started laughing.

“Come on, guys? What are we doing?” she asked. “All three of you look like twigs, and even if one of you looks like you can fight, I’m pretty sure I could snap all three of you over my knee at once if I wanted to.”

Sunset shrugged, placing her hands in her jacket pockets. “Of course, I’m not gonna. That wouldn’t be fair to you, and that’s beneath me anyway. So go ahead, go to town on me.” She smirked. “If you think you can.”

Zap got in her face, bumping her chest against Sunset’s. She didn’t budge. Zap's confidence held, though her lack of a follow up spoke volumes about how intimidated she probably was.

“You really don’t know how things work around here, do you?” Zap pushed her shoulders. Once again, Sunset didn’t move, laughing from the belly after her attempt.

“Before you do something you’re gonna regret, I should let you all in on something.”

“Oh yeah?” Zap replied. “What’s that? Stalling because you’re scared?”

“This morning, I saw you asking for a book report from Twilight, so I started taking a video with my phone. I didn’t catch everything, but I did get the part where you pinned her to the lockers. And since you mentioned your little girlfriend over there by name, it incriminates both of you.”

Indigo’s bravado briefly faltered, but if Fleur’s face had any color, it would have drained after that.

“Not only that, but I just filmed you pulling Twilight into the alley just to pin her to the wall. And I caught your sleepy friend over there talking about how you should knock her out and get it over with.” Sunset paused to laugh again. “And if that’s not enough for you to chew on, think about this: when was the last time you heard about a mid-school year admittance to Crystal Prep? If they’re willing to bend the rules that much just to let me in, how do you think they’re gonna feel when I present all that to them, and show up battered and bruised on my second day here, all because I confronted you about everything I can prove you did?”

Finally, Zap’s confidence collapsed. Both of Fleur’s lackeys turned to her for direction, and she seemed just as lost as them. Eventually, her look of shock morphed into anger.

“Don’t just gawk at me you meathead!” she shouted. “Hold her down and take her phone!”

Indigo Zap hopped into action, using her agility to get behind Sunset. She put her in a nelson hold, one she was clearly struggling to maintain. Sunset’s grin stayed firm. From her body language, it seemed like she was helping Zap keep her hold.

Cold Forecast patted her down, feeling around her skirt pockets for anything that was vaguely phone shaped, but came up empty handed. She turned and shrugged at Fleur.

“You’re all really funny. Really bad at this, too. Do you really think I’m dumb enough to confront you with the evidence still on me?”

Before any of them could respond, Sunset brought her arms down, easily breaking Zap’s hold. As she did, she grabbed Zap’s forearm and threw her into the other two girls, both of them barely managing to catch her before all of them fell to the ground like bowling pins.

“This has been fun and all, but you’ve wasted enough of our time now.” Leaning over them, Sunset’s eyes narrowed. “And if you all know what’s good for you, you’ll avoid that in the future.”

Sunset turned her back and began making her way out of the alley. After a few steps, she turned around and looked at Twilight. “You coming?”

Twilight snapped out of her stunned stupor, clamoring to catch up with Sunset.

Even as they walked back into the cloudy daylight, Twilight could hardly believe what she’d witnessed. As far as she knew, no one had ever put Fleur de Lis or her friends in their place like that before, and certainly not on Twilight's behalf.

As impressed as she was, as much as she wanted to be grateful, she was still nervous. Why was this new girl doing this for her? So far, they’d had a brief exchange in one class, and a conversation in the library that hadn’t amounted to much. Maybe she just didn’t like them the same way she said she didn’t like Cold Forecast, but that still didn’t make any sense. What was her motive?

Part of what stunned her so much as the complete difference in her demeanor. She seemed intimidating this morning, but only stoic, never hostile. After seeing Sunset’s attitude in the alley and the way she manhandled Fleur and her idiot friends, she was morbidly curious about how much further she would have gone if things escalated.

There were myriad mysteries about this new girl, with seemingly no end in sight. But in that moment, emerging from the alley, one weighed on Twilight more than any other.

“Why?” Twilight asked as they made it to the student parking lot.

“‘Why,’ what?” Sunset answered with a question of her own.

“Why did you do that?”

Sunset looked confused, as if that was a weird thing to ask. “Would you rather me not have intervened, or…?”

“Wh- No, I mean, I appreciate the fact that you did. I just don’t get it. Don’t you know what you’re doing?”

Sunset chuckled. “You’re starting to sound like them.”

“Well, as much as I hate to say it, they had a reason to say that.”

Sunset shrugged. “And that is?”

“Fleur de Lis is one of the most popular girls in our grade. You’re new, and you just made some of the worst enemies you could make on your first day. And for me of all people?”

“I didn’t really know that about her, but oh well. Doesn’t bother me.”

“Why?” Twilight repeated.

Sunset came to a stop, turning to face Twilight as she leaned against the back of a car—presumably her own.

“Why should it?”

Twilight was seriously beginning to think she was being messed with. It didn’t help that Sunset’s demeanor had completely shifted once again. She was acting just as nonchalant as she had in the library, which was a far cry from how things were only minutes before.

“Because you’re already a target! Once the rest of the students know you were a special exception, you’re going to have to watch your back everywhere you go! And now you’ll have to watch yourself even more!”

Sunset didn’t respond right away, instead digging into her jacket pocket for a lollipop, unwrapping it and placing it in her mouth.

“Is that so?”

Twilight blinked. “Yes!”

“Huh.”

“So why make it worse?!”

Sunset shrugged. “I dunno. Sounds to me like I was already screwed, so why bother making nice with any of them if they’re just going to be looking to take me down anyway?”

As much as she was worried for her, Twilight had to admit Sunset had a point. She may have been new, but she didn’t seem naïve.

“Even if you don’t make nice with them, making nice with me will just make things worse!”

“Really? Why?”

This was testing Twilight’s patience, but she bit back her irritation. Sunset was new, and even if she appeared seasoned, there was no way she knew the intricacies of the CPA social hierarchy after her first day.

“Well, I–” in an effort to not seem conceited, Twilight paused and carefully chose her words, “…the reason Fleur de Lis makes me do her school work for her is because I have the top marks in our grade.”

“Impressive,” Sunset said with a smile and a half-lidded gaze.

“Th-that’s not the point!” Twilight argued, trying to ignore the sensation that compliment gave her. “Around here, being the best is the only thing that matters. And when you’re the best, no one is looking out for you. Everyone’s just looking for a way to take your spot. If they can’t do better than you, they’ll grind you down until you don’t care enough to do well. That’s what they’ve been trying to do to me for months.”

“Well that’s a bummer,” she replied flippantly. “But if it’s any consolation, I don’t really care about being “the best” or whatever, so you don’t really have to worry about that with me.”

“If you’re not interested in being the best, then why transfer to this school? That’s the whole reason anyone comes here!”

Sunset jostled the lollipop around in her mouth, her eyes wandering for a few moments.

“Well, I’ve already proven myself where it matters, and this school wanted me more than my last—probably so they could tout my accomplishments as something done by one of their alumni—so I figured it’d be a nice change of scenery. Nothing more to it than that, really.”

Yet another vague allusion to her prior work that Twilight was so curious about. Had they not been so deeply embedded in a more pressing subject, she would have asked Sunset to elaborate further.

“Well, regardless, associating with me means associating with–” Twilight briefly hesitated, rolling her eyes, “–the best. Which means if you stick up for me like that, you’ll probably have to deal with all the stuff I have to and worse.”

“Okay,” said Sunset. “I can deal.”

“But you don’t– ugh! How are you not getting this?”

Sunset raised an eyebrow. “What is your problem?”

Twilight immediately felt guilty for her outburst, but just like with everything else, Sunset seemed entirely nonplussed by it.

“What you saw was just a peek of what it’s like,” Twilight explained. “If the other students aren’t accosting me, they’re avoiding me. Is that really something you want to deal with?”

“I didn’t come here looking to make friends,” she replied. “If they avoid me, they’re doing me a favor, and if they want to challenge me, well, you saw how I handled those three morons.”

Twilight raised a finger to respond, but fell short beyond opening her mouth to speak. Before she could sort through her frustration enough to respond, Sunset continued.

“Look, I appreciate you trying to look out for me, but it looks and sounds to me like you are the one who needs someone looking out for them. You’re the best here, I don’t care about being the best. We don’t have to worry about stepping on each other’s toes, so why shouldn’t we stick together?”

Twilight’s eyes momentarily fixed on the asphalt below. Sunset wasn’t wrong. Someone like her having her back would be immensely beneficial. If Sunset truly wasn’t concerned with perfection or what the other students thought, having her on Twilight’s side would make her life a whole lot easier.

But she still wasn’t entirely sure she could trust this new girl.

Then again, this was the most amount of compassion anyone had shown her at this school so far. Even when others would try to build her up just to knock her down later, they would never intervene the way she did, much less after only two dry, brief exchanges.

“I still don’t know why you’re doing this,” Twilight remarked. “You just said you’re not here looking to make friends.”

Sunset rolled her eyes. “Did we not literally just go over this?”

Twilight squinted at her. “I’m not trying to sound ungrateful, but why go to such great lengths for me? Someone you haven’t even known for a day.”

“What do you mean ‘great lengths?’ I just saw what was happening and did what anyone else would do.”

Twilight gave her an incredulous glare. “Really?”

Sunset looked back and forth, shrugging and raising her hands. “Yes!”

“Does recording a group long enough for them to incriminate themselves really constitute as doing what anyone else would do?”

She nodded. “Yeah, I’d like to think so.”

“Not only that, but recording my encounter with Indigo Zap this morning as well? Telling Cold Forecast I was in a different area of the school when she asked, even though you didn’t know where I was?

Sunset nodded again.

“You didn’t think that maybe I did something to deserve being treated like that? Like, what if I used to bully her, but now things were reversed and I was getting what I deserved?”

“Even if that were the case, no one deserves to be treated like that,” Sunset argued, her lax expression momentarily traded for an intense stare. “Besides, you don’t look like the bullying type, and from this talk alone, I feel pretty safe in my assumption you couldn’t have done anything like that.”

“So then why didn’t you step in this morning? Or why–” Twilight let out an exasperated sigh, trying to rein in her skepticism. “Again, I don’t want how glad I am that you were there to help me to go understated, but I don’t think it’s unreasonable for me to be wary. A lot of this just doesn’t add up. Why would you start your very first day surveilling the people who were harassing me if you didn’t even know me?”

There was a cracking sound from Sunset’s mouth as she broke part of the lollipop with her teeth. Even with her chill exterior, it was easy to tell Twilight was chewing through her patience.

“Just because I’m new here doesn’t mean I’m helpless and stupid. The kids here might be richer than the ones at my last school, but their parent’s tax brackets don’t change the fact that they’re a bunch of dumb brats. I know how people like Fleur de Lis and her dumb friends work, and as you saw, I know how to handle myself around them.”

“You know how to handle yourself,” Twilight contended, “but that still doesn’t explain why you’re doing this for me.”

Sunset let out a deep sigh as she pushed herself off the back of the car, looking up at the sky while she thought about what to say next.

“If you really want to know, it’s because you’re the only person I’ve met so far in this school who doesn’t give off rancid vibes. I didn’t know that before I talked to you this morning, so that’s why I didn’t step in to help. Plus, judging from this conversation, if I had just jumped in when I saw you this morning, you wouldn’t have believed I had any good intentions anyway.”

Twilight pursed her lips inquisitively. “Is that why you showed up in the library?”

“Partially. I remembered that girl saying she would see you later, and when I saw her dead-eyed friend skulking around the school for you between periods. I went looking for you at lunch, thinking you were in the library. The weird sleepy girl asked me if I knew where you were before I went in, and I pointed her in a random direction. Then, when I saw you eating in a hidden corner of the library and noticed how fidgety you were, the picture started to come together.”

Twilight was torn. So much of this suddenly made sense, yet still didn’t at the same time. As much as she just wanted to say thanks and leave it at that, this level of attention—especially from someone she’d just met—was wildly uncomfortable for her.

“So how did you know they were going to try something after school?”

“Well, it seemed like the logical next step when they didn’t find you at lunch,” she answered. “After that, I thought about what their next move would be. If I were them, the next thing to do would be to isolate you somewhere out of view. So I waited on a bench outside the exit. Then I heard the loud one yelling your name, and knew I was right. It was a gamble, but like I said: I know how those types work.

“And now, because of that, they think I have all this evidence against them, and they know I’m looking after you. So, they’re probably not going to mess with you anymore. There, that enough for you?”

A suspicious look crossed Twilight’s face. “Wait, they “think” you have all that evidence?”

Sunset smiled and looked away briefly. “I mean, I did record what happened in the alley, but I might have embellished the rest. They don’t know that, though, and as long as they don’t, that’s more security. What they don’t know will help us and hurt them.”

Twilight continued to ponder everything she heard. She really wanted to believe Sunset had the best intentions, but she had more than enough evidence of her own to back up the fact that trusting someone who seemed so unnecessarily altruistic could easily backfire.

As the bout of silence between them continued, Sunset rolled her eyes. Another loud crack came from the inside of her mouth. She crunched on the remaining part of the lollipop before taking the paper stick out and tossing it in a random direction.

“Look, fine, if it’ll stop the endless questions, I’ll come totally clean about something.” Sunset took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “You remind me of someone I used to know. Like, a lot. At first, I thought you might have just looked like them, but it seems like you two are really similar beyond that. That’s part of why I expected you’d be in the library—that seemed like some place she’d be. So, if you’re wondering why I’m being so nice to you, it’s because of that. That probably sounds weird, but it’s the truth. And please don’t ask me to expand on that, either.”

Even if Twilight weren’t stunted from being socially deprived for the last year and a half, she’d still find this girl hard to read. But, for the first time since they spoke, Twilight felt like she understood how Sunset actually felt. There was no stoicism, no air of emotional detachment like with most things she said. There was genuine warmth in her words, and that warmth spread to and throughout Twilight.

“I guess that makes sense,” she stumbled. “I’m sorry for asking so many questions, I just–”

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” Sunset softly interrupted. “It’s smart to watch your back around here. I get it. Now, I really don’t like being at school any longer than I need to be. If that satisfies your undying curiosity, do you still want a ride home?”

“What do you mean “still?” Twilight quickly realized she was referring to what she’d said in the alley. “Wait, you were serious about that?”

“It was an excuse, but I don’t imagine you wanna walk home alone in the cold after a run-in with those three, and I can drive. So, yeah, consider it a genuine offer.”

Twilight bit her lip in contemplation. Sunset was right, she absolutely didn’t want to walk home for those reasons, but even if Sunset was her classmate, the idea of getting in her car after barely knowing her for a handful of hours made her nervous.

But Sunset had taken a gamble on her—more than once so far—so Twilight figured she might as well return the favor.

“If you wouldn’t mind?”

Sunset’s brow furrowed, an exasperated grin on her face. “I literally just asked you, why would I suddenly mind?”

At first, Twilight thought she was being annoying, but as she looked up at Sunset and saw her smile warmly, that worry quickly dissipated. Sunset reached into the breast pocket of her jacket, fiddling around with something until the lights on the back of her old, beat up sedan flashed. She pressed it again, the sound of all four doors clicking unlocked as she did.

Twilight gingerly opened the front passenger side, being greeted to a somewhat dingy, gray seat. The space where legs should rest was smattered with fast food bags and wrappers. It was kind of gross, but thankfully none of it looked slimy or rotten. Twilight questioned whether or not she wanted to ride in this mess, but it would be rude to decline now.

Before she took a seat, Sunset moved an odd assortment of items out of the passenger seat—a hoodie, a beanie, a pair of glasses, and her phone sitting atop all of them. She threw them all in the back seat, save for her phone which she put in the cup holder in the center console.

“Sorry, I know it’s kinda gross in here. This is the first time I’ve ever had a passenger.”

Twilight’s nose wrinkled, both from the state of Sunset’s car and the fear such a sentence inspired. “How long have you been driving?”

“A little over a year now,” Sunset chuckled. “Don’t worry, I’ve got a perfect record. I know what I’m doing.”

Again, Twilight considered changing her mind, but ultimately decided against it. Who was she to look a gift horse in the mouth? Especially from someone who saved her from a potentially violent retaliation.

Once Twilight settled in and clicked her seatbelt, Sunset started the car and took off from the parking lot. Twilight spent most of the ride looking at her phone, glancing up a few times every minute to guide Sunset to her house, and to make sure she wasn’t randomly driving off with her.

Fortunately, Twilight made it home without incident. Sunset pulled the car into her driveway and threw the car in park, turning to her new friend with a warm smile.

“Nice meeting you today,” said Sunset.

Twilight smiled back. “You, too. And… thanks. For this, and everything else.”

“Don’t mention it.” Sunset winked. “See you in class tomorrow.”

As Sunset waited for her to exit her vehicle, Twilight hesitated, overtaken by an impulse she hardly had time to think over.

“Would you… want to exchange phone numbers?” When those words left her mouth, she immediately felt a spike of anxiety. “I hope that’s not a weird thing to ask! I don’t want to seem like I’m imposing or anything, but I just–”

Twilight’s overcorrection was interrupted by Sunset’s laugh, the sound of which caused her cheeks to feel flushed.

“I literally just drove you home. I’m pretty sure that makes us friends, and even if it doesn’t, I don’t think it’s ‘imposing’ to ask for a phone number.”

As embarrassed as she was, it was comforting to know Sunset didn’t think she was weird. In less than a day, she’d verbally tripped down the stairs multiple times, but instead of being watched in awkward silence like anyone else would, Sunset always managed to catch her with that warm laugh of hers.

The two exchanged numbers, and Twilight finally exited the vehicle after that. When she got to her porch, she turned and watched the rear lights of Sunset’s car disappear into the suburban horizon.

Outside of all the intrigue, there was just something about Sunset, but Twilight still couldn’t tell what it was. She was nice—definitely too nice. Twilight still wasn’t sure if she should trust her. But after three semesters of constant abuse from all the other students and neglect from the staff, Twilight welcomed the change, even if it was temporary.

Chapter Text

Fork in hand, Twilight listlessly picked at the plate of pasta in front of her. It wasn’t that she wasn’t hungry, her thoughts just required so much mental overhead that she found it difficult to think and eat at the same time.

After such a weird day, it was hard for Twilight to know how to feel. It was a much better return from the holidays than she anticipated, but it was also incredibly strange. Whatever feeling she landed on, one thing was for sure: it was shaded by paranoia.

She was worried about Sunset, about Fleur de Lis and her friends, and about what today’s events could mean for the rest of the semester. A significant part of her just wished today had gone like any other. Maybe that would mean more misery, but Twilight appreciated consistency, as complacent as that made her out to be.

Perhaps she shouldn’t have been so worried. After all, maybe Sunset was right: as long as those three believed Sunset had evidence of them harassing Twilight, they’d probably keep away from her.

Then again, would that really stop them? It was undeniable that Sunset had hard evidence they couldn’t hope to refute, but at Crystal Prep, the scales of justice could be tipped by affluence and influence alike. Students whose parents had enough money could pay for them to avoid more severe punishments like suspension or expulsion. And if they weren’t capable of that—or if they were inclined to take a different route—they often had people on the inside of the school board who could declare such punishments annulled with little pushback.

Fleur came from one of the wealthiest and most well-known families in Canterlot City. Even if Twilight hadn’t taken the time to extensively dig through her background, that was a fact she seldom let anyone forget. If she found her way into trouble, her family could swing their weight hard enough to find her a way out. Perhaps that was pessimistic, but to Twilight, it was realistic.

Suddenly, her mother’s voice derailed her train of thought. “Twilight, honey? Is everything alright?”

Twilight shook her head back to attention, her eyes meeting a concerned gaze. “Yeah! Fine, just fine,” she answered unconvincingly.

“I just asked you how today went,” her father added. “Off to a better start than last semester I hope?”

Twilight briefly weighed how much truth she was willing to admit. “It’s hard to say. I mean, today was mostly the same as it usually is—returning students avoid me, I avoid them—but I did end up meeting a new student today, and I think we’re friends?”

Her parents lit up in unison.

“That’s great, dear!” Twilight Velvet exclaimed. “Though, what do you mean you think?”

“And ‘new student?’” Night Light followed. “I thought Crystal Prep didn’t allow mid-year admissions.”

Twilight was already regretting saying as much as she did, but explained nonetheless. “Usually, they don’t. Apparently, she’s a transfer from Canterlot High School, and our teacher told us she was admitted as an exception due to “previous accomplishments,” but she didn’t elaborate any further than that. The new girl didn’t explain either, and she doesn’t seem very forthcoming about it.”

Or about much of anything, Twilight thought to herself.

Night Light raised his brows. “Well, that’s a surprise. I don’t think that’s ever happened, at least not while any of us have been there.”

“Indeed,” her mother concurred. “Makes me wonder what her big accomplishments might be.”

“If she won’t talk about it, I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s with the state now,” her father added. “That could be why they moved her to a different school, and why CPA was required to make the exception.”

That was something Twilight hadn’t considered, and it made her curiosity even more ravenous than before.

“What’s her name, anyway?” Velvet asked, clearly trying to steer the conversation away from her husband’s speculation.

“Her name is Sunset Shimmer. And apparently, she made the choice to transfer herself.”

Twilight’s parents looked even more perplexed.

“Still, I’ll bet her parents wanted her to move up in the world after whatever she did,” Night Light continued to theorize. “I know that’s what I’d do if my kid did something so big they weren't allowed to tell anyone.”

Something about that remark stung. The way her dad said that made Twilight feel as though getting perfect marks in everything wasn’t good enough. She tried not to dwell on the thought for very long, however. She was working on her own big discovery, and hopefully her work would bear fruit soon enough.

“And you said you two are friends now, right?” asked Night Light.

“Kind of,” Twilight answered. “Her attitude is difficult to read, so I feel like I can’t know for sure. I ate lunch in the library today, and she came and sat by me even though I was in one of the furthest back corners. She gave me a ride home today, too.”

Velvet and Night Light shared a surprised look before turning their attention to their daughter.

“Well that sounds like a friend to me!” Velvet beamed.

“I guess,” Twilight half-heartedly agreed, “but I doubt it’s going to last.”

“Really?” her father asked. “What makes you say that?”

Twilight shrugged, dejectedly looking down at her plate. “She’s nice now, but she’s also new. Historically, the other students haven’t treated me the best, and if she spends enough time around me, they’re probably going to treat her the same. And once she’s had enough of that, I’m sure she’ll treat me the same way all the others do.”

“Come on, Twily, have a little faith!” Velvet contended. “We understand why you’re worried, but the way you put it, it sounds to me like she wants to be your friend.”

“Your mother’s right,” Night Light concurred. “Sitting with you at lunch? Giving you a ride home? Especially after only knowing you for a single day? Can’t imagine going out of my way like that for someone I’m just gonna turn my back on.”

Twilight raised a shoulder in acknowledgement. Her father did have a point, but it was hard to take what either of them were saying into consideration. Twilight was feeding them a filtered, abridged version of what happened today, so any judgment they made was pure conjecture by default. Then again, if they’d known all that happened, they’d be even more sure of how they felt.

“I guess she did tell me I was, and I quote, ‘the only person I’ve met so far in this school who doesn’t give off rancid vibes,’ which I think is a compliment?”

Her parents had a good laugh at that.

“If that’s not a compliment, I’m not sure what is,” Night Light remarked.

“That’s true,” Velvet agreed, but took on a sympathetic smile afterwards, “but I understand why you’re nervous, dear.” Her mother placed a hand over Twilight’s own. “Just take it slow, and if you still don’t trust her, let her come to you. If she’s just doing it to get something out of you, or she’s going to lose interest soon, it won’t take long for that to show.” She squeezed her daughter’s hand. “But at least let her in a little bit. I don’t want to belabor the point your father and I have made a hundred times by now, but you could use a friend.”

Twilight feigned a smile, closing her eyes briefly just to roll them. “Thanks, mom. You too, dad.”

Since the beginning of her time at CPA, her parents always prodded her about finding friends. She could tell it was because they didn’t want her to be alone, but considering the way the other students treated her, she felt better off for it. Even if she could find friends, Twilight had grown to appreciate solitude.

It’s not like she liked to do anything her peers did outside of playing video games and a passing interest in a few popular shows and movies—both interests that would subject her to just as much ridicule as potential camaraderie. Even when she was in middle school, spending time with others always proved to be draining. It didn’t matter what the activity was, Twilight would find herself longing to be alone by the end of it.

The only friend she could spend extended periods of time with was Moondancer, and that was because the two of them enjoyed sitting in silence while doing their own things. Other than that, Twilight had learned to be her own best friend, and that was good enough for her.

Still, she knew she couldn’t make it through life completely on her own. Even if she were to defer the rest of her high school years to an independent study program like she’d been gunning for, that would still require the work and aid of others. Regardless of how much she liked to work alone, she had to find some way to make herself work around other people.

Maybe Sunset could be that for her. That would require a terrifying level of trust. She already felt nervous letting Sunset know she ate in the library sometimes. It wasn’t a secret, but it was one of her idiosyncrasies, and even if someone else could have gathered that on their own, she’d confirmed it was true. Something that simple shouldn’t have made her so nervous, but that’s just the way she was.

Still, she knew it wasn’t healthy to feel that way. The location of which she had lunch was as inconsequential as it was insignificant. Not only that, but Sunset had withstood her flurry of questions after their encounter with Fleur de Lis. If she were planning something, she’d have to be absurdly dedicated to it. Even Twilight’s paranoia had a limit to its suspension of disbelief.

Nevertheless, she wasn’t used to telling anyone anything about herself or what she did, and before that day, it didn’t seem like that was changing any time soon.

On top of that, as warm as Sunset seemed, that warmth was shaded by something inexplicable. There were things about her that just didn’t calculate in Twilight’s brain. Her admission to CPA might have been an exceptional case, but nothing about her—aside from her interest in scientific literature—gave Twilight the impression she was “exceptional” material.

Still, until she got to know her better, Twilight would just have to make do with what she was aware of. What she knew now would simply have to be enough.

But it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t anywhere near enough.

Twilight sat on her bed staring at her laptop screen, her tired eyes cracked with crimson. Just an hour ago, she was restlessly tossing and turning, growing frustrated until the bed became too warm for her to comfortably lay in. Eventually, she couldn’t take it anymore.

She simply needed to know more about Sunset. It was burning a hole in her head, and if she let it go any longer, it would hollow out her brain.

Someone who’d done something impressive enough to get into CPA mid-semester must have been something on the internet about her, right? Even if her discovery was wrapped in government red tape as her father suggested, there had to be some inkling of information about her; where else she’d been, and what else she’d done, right?

It was maddening. With most individuals, there was always a digital paper trail. Since she began her tenure at Crystal Prep, Twilight had become adept at sussing out personal details about anyone. What motivated her to do so was a desire to sharpen her research skills, but it never hurt to know the names and numbers of other people’s parents if anyone ever bullied her too much.

Besides, it wasn’t like it was hard to find people’s information. All she needed was a name and a general location, and she could find anything. Address, date of birth, names of other family members—the list goes on and on.

But on this night in particular, she’d hit a wall. Website after website, search engine after search engine, query after query; nothing came up while looking for Sunset Shimmer.

That wasn’t entirely true, only effectively. There were a few links—all of them to the same social media website MyStable—but all of them would throw up 404 errors. The search results only maintained a fraction of the page’s text, stored from the last time its data was scraped and cached by the search engine itself, and displayed under the results. Unfortunately, there was nothing of significance to be gleaned from the short strings of text.

Twilight cursed the fact that it was so late. She had other methods of crawling the web for information, but as she’d learned the hard way once before, they weren’t safe to use without the right computer and networking setup. If it were earlier in the evening, she would head downstairs to the garage. That’s where her main computer and most of her advanced devices were, but she couldn’t afford to get caught by her parents doing something so shady, especially after bed time. There’d be no way to explain to them what she was doing, and Twilight was an awful liar.

That wasn’t about to stop her, though. Even if she wasn’t able to look all over every part of the net, she still had an ace up her sleeve. While mentions of her name had been erased from MyStable, the site was notoriously unsecure while also having a penchant for saving everything posted to it. That, and search engines didn’t capture everything. There had to be plenty of unindexed posts floating around MyStable, and there had to be at least a few that mentioned Sunset in some capacity.

With a little bit of scripting magic, a dummy account, and a brief struggle with annoying API limitation issues, she wrote up a webcrawler that could quickly glide from profile to profile, searching for any mention of any term she wanted to look for. Not only that, it could filter where it searched based on whatever parameters she entered. That meant she could specifically filter profiles that mentioned they went to Canterlot High School.

Twilight ran a few tests to confirm it worked. In particular, she set the filter to profiles that stated they went to Crystal Prep, and searched for her own name. After several minutes, it found and displayed several posts. It took only a brief scan over one of them for her to realize she didn’t want to know what anyone else had to say about her online.

Then she entered Sunset’s name, filtered it by users whose profiles say they go to CHS, hit enter, and patiently waited.

Five minutes later, there were zero results.

That was okay, though. Not everyone who went to CHS was going to put that they did on their profile. Most teenagers had a terrible sense of operation security, but those that did often did not have such on purpose. Aside from that, there had to be some people who didn’t go to Canterlot High and knew Sunset. The site’s demographic wasn’t just teenagers, and hadn’t been for quite some time.

Twilight adjusted the filter so that it only searched for people who said they were from Canterlot City. Once again, she entered Sunset’s full name, pressed enter, and patiently waited.

Twenty minutes later, Twilight was nearly asleep. She barely managed to snap to attention when it finished. Rubbing her eyes, she squinted as the results displayed in front of her.

Or rather, the result. Which was, again, nothing.

Grumbling under her breath, Twilight wondered how this was possible. How were there zero mentions of her from anyone in the city? The most frustrating part was that there were posts about her at some point according to the search engines she used. But the search engine didn’t index every post on the site, especially ones with stricter privacy settings. It was absurd to think those were the only posts about her, but the outlook wasn’t promising.

Giving it some thought, Twilight realized she made a similar error to last time. Not everyone who lived in Canterlot City said that they did. Plenty of profiles would put false locations. Others omitted their city, state, and country entirely. That presented a new problem, though. As the scope of filters widened, the time it took for the search to run increased proportionally. Short of searching every publicly available post on the site, Twilight was running out of ways to narrow it down.

Then she remembered the way Sunset introduced herself. Specifically the part where she said she  ‘wasn’t from around here.’ That was a nebulous statement, and one that didn’t help much on its own, but was enough to push her toward her last resort.

She removed all the filters, punched in Sunset’s name, and pressed enter one last time. This time, her crawler would search every profile, and every post from users with IP addresses based within the country. Twilight knew what kind of waiting game she was in for, but she was desperate, and had come too far to leave with more questions than answers.

The search went on and on. Twilight was struggling to stay awake within the first few minutes, and considering the extent of the search, there was no telling how long it would take. Still, even with no end in sight, Twilight tried to keep upright, something that felt more and more foolish with each passing minute.

Of course, sitting on her bed hardly helped matters. She would lean back onto her pillow and nod off for a half an hour or so, then jolt awake, only to find the search was still going. This continued well into the wee hours of the morning. The last time Twilight remembered falling asleep, the leading number on the clock was a four.

A measly couple of hours later after that, it was time to get up and get ready for school. Shaking off the grogginess, Twilight sat up in bed. The results came in while she was sleeping, and for a brief moment, she was hopeful.

However, it didn’t last long.

Despite searching every known profile on MyStable, not a single person on it had mentioned Sunset Shimmer. Ever. Twilight stared at the screen, mouth slightly agape, unsure of how that was even possible. She even rubbed her eyes to make sure it wasn’t sleep’s touch obscuring her vision, but it remained the same.

Even though Twilight didn’t have a profile herself (not one under her actual name at least) and she was a complete social hermit, she had been mentioned on the site more than once, and she was a nobody. Meanwhile, Sunset—someone who was apparently big and important enough that she could defy Crystal Prep’s stringent policy on mid-year admissions—didn’t show up a single time anywhere, despite previously having been mentioned.

It put her even deeper into this conundrum. She was grateful for Sunset’s intervention the previous day, to the point that she almost felt like she should let her guard down around her. But this wasn’t adding up, and Twilight wasn’t sure if she was willing to open up to someone who was so suspiciously far off the grid.

Twilight needed answers, and somehow, she was going to get them.

Even if that meant confronting Sunset herself.

Chapter Text

After dropping Twilight off at her house, Sunset swung by a convenience store. Unhealthy junk food was often dinner for her, and she needed an energy drink for the morning. Crystal Prep started an hour earlier than CHS, and an overdose of caffeine was the only way she’d been able to stay awake during the first part of that day.

Any time she went out in public, she tried to get in and out as fast as possible. Canterlot City was big, but there was always a chance she might be spotted by someone who once knew her. Before entering any place aside from school, she would exchange her leather jacket for a grey hoodie, put on cosmetic glasses, and hide her bun-tied hair in a floppy black beanie. This was her outfit for any public outing. In her mind, that was all that was necessary to obscure herself.

On a normal day, Sunset would navigate carefully. She’d catch a glimpse at every face, scanning every figure for any semblance of familiarity. But on this day, she was just too tired. After being interrogated by her new ‘friend,’ Sunset was running on fumes. Keeping up appearances was a tiring affair, especially with someone so frustratingly curious. If Sunset was going to survive the next inevitable onslaught of questions she knew she was in for tomorrow, she was going to need even more of a boost.

Each time Sunset found herself staring at all the beverages behind the glass doors, she  thought about how baffling it was that so many of them were essentially the same thing. All of these were supposedly different flavors and brands of energy drinks, but as she’d grown addicted to the defibrillating jolt they gave her, she’d come to realize their effects and tastes were identical. An overabundance of the same thing, all masquerading as a wide array of choices. Humans were weird.

She knew they couldn’t be good for her, but they were the only thing that could adequately supplement her perpetual exhaustion. Ever since the Fall Formal, she spent every waking hour struggling with energy. For a while, this was partially because of all the seemingly chronic symptoms that appeared after that night.

Sunset spent much of her time after the Formal wondering if her injuries were more severe than she thought. More than once, she thought she might succumb to something she wasn’t aware of. It wasn’t until a week or so before winter break that she began to realize that, if something were going to happen to her, it already would have.

Fortunately, since spending half of her winter break dormant in her apartment, most of her ailments had either lightened up or completely subsided. Perhaps the excessive caffeine wasn’t helping with the root of her constant lethargy anymore, but it was a choice between that, and shambling around everywhere she went.

The only other symptom that remained—aside from fatigue—was that half the things she ate would find their way out of the same hole they entered. She hadn’t experienced that for a while, though. It seemed like she might finally be recovering fully.

As she reached out to grab an energy drink, a familiar voice interrupted her.

“Sunset?” he asked. “Is that you?”

Frozen in place, Sunset’s nerves immediately went into overdrive. It didn’t take long for her to figure out who’s voice that was, and the moment it registered, her mind was racing. Still, Sunset tried to continue reaching for a drink, pretending not to notice this person calling her name, but the pause in her movement had to be a dead giveaway.

He continued pestering her. “Is everything alright? I was wondering why I didn’t see you at school today.”

A wave of aggravation threatened to take hold of Sunset. Not only had she been spotted, but she’d been given proof that her disguise wasn’t enough. Then again, if anyone was going to be able to tell it was her, it was him.

Sunset breathed a quiet sigh, finally turning to face Flash Sentry. “Are you talking to me?” she asked in a deeper tone of voice than usual.

For a moment, Flash looked unsure, as if he might have mistakenly misidentified who he was calling out to.

“Yeah?” he hesitantly affirmed. “Are you okay?”

“Do I know you?” she asked.

He leaned in a little, squinting at her. His uncertainty waned. “What are you talking about? How could you not?”

Sunset leaned away from him. “Answer me,” she demanded.

Flash put his hands up defensively. “We know each other because we go to school together? Because we used to be a couple? Winter break isn’t that long you know.”

Despite Flash’s warm tone and friendly remark, Sunset’s heart began to beat faster and faster. She barely managed to cling onto her crumbling façade.

“I think you have me confused with someone else, because I’ve never seen you in my life,” she asserted.

Flash was growing more suspicious. “Come on, Sunset. Why are you acting like this? And what’s with the voice? And the getup?”

“Why are you asking me all of this?” asked Sunset. “You still haven’t even told me your name.”

“Flash?” he replied. “Flash Sentry? The guy you used to date?”

It was quickly becoming apparent that this interaction was going nowhere good. Maintaining ignorance was no longer a winning move. She’d been caught, but she wasn’t ready to give up just yet. Instead of continuing to try and convince him with a failing lie, she silently shifted tactics.

Sunset feigned a surprised reaction. “Oh, right! Sorry. I injured my head really badly at the Fall Formal, and since then, I really don’t do well with faces anymore.”

Unfortunately, it didn’t seem like Flash was buying it. “Even the face of someone you used to be with? I mean, I almost didn’t recognize you with the outfit and everything, but–”

“You know what? You caught me. I’m not face blind, or confused because of any concussion I sustained or anything. I just love it when people think I’m messing with them!”

“Sunset, can you just drop the act already?”

Her fuse was quickly burning down, but she managed to extinguish it moments before detonating. If she was going to make it out of this, she had to keep her cool. Things were precarious, but not unsalvageable.

“Listen,” Sunset hissed, “if you ever do anything for me again, you’ll forget you ever saw me. Don’t mention that I’m still around to anyone at Canterlot High, or I will make you regret it, understood?”

Flash was clearly offended, but he only sighed. He probably thought Sunset’s threats were empty, and after the Fall Formal, that wasn’t a totally unfair assessment. Still, it wasn’t that she couldn’t follow through; she just really didn’t want to. The others at CHS couldn’t know she was still around, especially her ‘friends.’ That would jeopardize everything, and she’d only just moved on to her next plan.

“I get it, Sunset. I’m sure you’re in a weird spot after everything that happened, but what’s the point of all this? I don’t think running away and going incognito is going to make you feel any better.”

“This isn’t about ‘feeling better.’” If she weren’t keeping her voice hushed, she would have been yelling by now. “This is about moving on, and if you know what’s good for you, that’s what you’ll do, too. I don’t want anything to do with you, CHS, or anyone who goes there. So just leave me alone, forget I exist, and we’ll never be in each other’s way again.”

Flash looked even more perturbed. “Alright, alright, fine. I won’t tell anyone that I saw you, but you could at least tell me why you’re running away.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Because this doesn’t make any sense. Why disappear like this? It seemed like things were fine before winter break. Heck, the girls spent all day looking for you and asking everyone at school about you. They're really worried.”

“Yeah, I bet they are,” Sunset mumbled bitterly, trying to ignore the twist in her gut upon hearing  mention of that group. When Sunset thought about all of her interactions with them before leaving for break, all she could remember is being their passive-aggressive punching bag. That was probably the only thing they missed about her.

Flash's eyes drilled into her, waiting for an answer. Sunset didn’t want to give one, but relented, if not just to keep him from blabbing.

“The reason you didn’t see me today is because I don’t go to CHS anymore. Over the break, I had someone help me transfer to another school, but I’m not telling you who did, or how, or where I went. Now you, and the rest of CHS won’t ever have to worry about ‘The Red Bat’ ever again. That's all you need to know, now leave me alone.”

“But why would–”

“If you ever see me again, no you didn’t.”

Before Flash could interrogate her any further, she fled the convenience store as fast as she could.

“Wait!” he called out in vain.

The bell above the door rang as Sunset dashed out of the store. She ran to her car, slammed the door behind her, and burned rubber out of the parking lot. Somehow, she’d managed to maintain a shred of composure during that conversation, but the moment the store was out of sight in her rearview mirror, she was shaking and hyperventilating.

As she drove back, she felt grateful she’d skipped lunch. Had there been anything in her stomach, it certainly wouldn’t have stayed down.

Chapter Text

The morning after Twilight scoured the internet for information about Sunset, she flew through her routine. Even if she was exhausted, it wasn’t difficult for her to push through. Not that she was excited to be at school or anything; she’d just woken up in the same state of mind she was in the night prior.

Twilight’s curiosity about Sunset—the same thing that kept her up until the wee hours of the morning—was still burning a hole in her brain. She needed to know more about her. Not even just her “accomplishments,” but anything more than what little she knew. Her best chance to talk to Sunset was before the first class bell, so she got to school early, and got to work trying to locate Sunset.

Of course, Crystal Prep was massive, so that would be no easy task. She should have asked for Sunset’s locker number the day before. At least then she’d have an idea of where to look. But Twilight went up and down the halls on nearly every floor of Crystal Prep looking for Sunset, and much like with her online search, she came up empty handed.

Maybe she could have texted Sunset, but their conversation history remained empty, and Twilight didn’t want to disturb that. It already felt kind of wrong to ask for her number, but to be the first to text felt like she’d be confirming what a weirdo she was. It wasn’t lost on Twilight how little that made sense, but that didn’t stop her from writing off that option entirely.

As she searched the school for Sunset, she lamented over the fact that Dean Cadance was out on maternity leave. It was unlikely she would be able to tell Twilight much about Sunset, but perhaps she could elucidate what was so special about the girl. That would not only save her time, it also would mean she could avoid this potential confrontation she was going to have.

After a while, Twilight felt discouraged and frustrated. As she walked down the stairs of the main wing’s third floor, she cursed at herself for not checking the parking lot to see if her car was there. Still, there was nothing saying Sunset had even made it to school yet, and when Twilight thought about it, her new friend seemed the type to be fashionably late anyway.

Despite spending her early morning scouring the halls, she was still early, and so she decided to give up and get to class. Of course, it wasn’t until after she’d surrendered that she finally found Sunset. Even though Twilight made it to her classroom early, Sunset had beaten her there. That came as a surprise, but not as much of a surprise as the state her new friend seemed to be in.

Slumped over, head down, face covered by her arms. Was something wrong? Had something happened last night or that morning to make her look so disheveled? As Twilight made her way to the back, her concern grew with every step. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to have this conversation with her.

Then she heard a snore, and felt silly for thinking it was anything other than her being sleepy. Part of her wanted to question herself as to why she was so worried, but she was afraid of that answer, so she just moved on.

Twilight sat down at the desk next to Sunset, trying to calculate what the best way to wake her up would be. It was just the two of them in the classroom—not even the teacher had arrived yet. Her first idea was to play a notification sound on her phone at maximum volume, but Twilight didn't want to startle her. Considering how Sunset handled the girls bullying her yesterday, she’d hate to get on her bad side, and that sounded like a potentially easy way to do so.

Instead, she decided to poke Sunset's shoulder with her finger.

And she remained unconscious.

So she poked her again. Still nothing.

For some reason, she did this several more times. At a certain point, it became less about waking Sunset, and more because it was kind of fun.

As she did, she examined her sleeping friend. Twilight took notice of just how peaceful she looked. Her facial features—at least the ones she could see—looked considerably softer. Twilight hadn’t realized it until then, but Sunset kept a certain tension in her shoulders, but that rigidity was absent when she was unconscious.

It was a shame she had to wake her. Even if she didn’t have questions, she’d hate for Sunset to get in trouble for sleeping in class. But still, seeing her like this was strangely endearing. Twilight felt a wave of Something wash over her, so she quickly decided to shelve those thoughts for the foreseeable ever.

Regardless, she had to do something. None of the teachers at Crystal Prep tolerated sleeping in class, and even Sunset's special status wouldn't make her immune to getting into trouble for snoozing at her desk. Especially not after her display of defiance the previous morning.

With some hesitation, Twilight leaned in closer to Sunset, whispering the first thing she thought of into her ear. "It's time to wake up, Sunny."

“I told you NOT to fucking call me that!”

The moment that nickname left her mouth, Sunset instantly sat up in her seat with a livid expression, shouting as though she’d just been struck. Twilight was so startled, the legs of her chair scraped several inches across the floor as she jumped. She didn’t even have time to feel embarrassed about her choice of words before the terror from Sunset’s sudden fury took hold.

At first, Twilight believed Sunset was genuinely angry at her, causing her heart to start beating out of control. But, after an eternal few seconds of tension, Sunset seemed to fall back into her usual aloof self. Twilight realized she may not have been totally alert when she snapped.

Sunset rubbed her eyes, looking some flavor of exhausted much like Twilight herself was. "Oh. Morning.” Sunset yawned like she wasn’t suddenly furious mere seconds ago. "Sorry about that.“

Twilight found it frightening, but peculiar that she’d respond in such a way, only to move on like nothing happened. Aside from being suddenly awoken, her reaction seemed very pointed at the fact that she’d been referred to as “Sunny,” an ostensibly innocuous nickname. Then again, she didn’t know much about the other girl, which brought her back to her insistent curiosity.

Even still, with Sunset looking as haggard as she did, Twilight thought it best not to begin with a round of questioning. That, and it was probably best to wait until her heart stopped pounding in her ears before attempting to form any kind of serious question.

"Good morning!” she finally greeted with a bit too much volume. “I, uhm, take it you had a bad night?"

"You could say that,” Sunset muttered. It sounded like Sunset was going to elaborate further, but she didn't say anything beyond that.

That was possibly an intrusive question, but it didn’t feel unwarranted. It was hard not to notice the bags under Sunset's eyes. They were nowhere near the level of someone like Cold Forecast's, but they still looked heavy regardless.

"How about you?" she asked. "You look pretty rough, too."

Caught off guard by Sunset’s concern for her, Twilight stumbled through a reply. "Oh! Um, yeah. My brother was making a lot of noise last night." She felt a pang of guilt for lying. Shining didn't even live with them anymore, but that sounded better than ‘I spent all night exhaustively searching for every iota of information I could find about you on a social media website.’ Besides, it wasn’t like her brother would ever find out she threw him under the bus.

Clearing her throat, Twilight tried to carry their conversation a little further. "I would have let you sleep more, but I didn't want you getting in trouble with Ms. Versine on your second day."

“I appreciate that. Though, honestly, I probably would have woken up anyway. I don't know if you're just quiet or what, but usually the moment someone enters a room, I lose the ability to sleep."

That was a curious comment to make. It made sense though. Despite her cool demeanor, Twilight was aware that most people like that were using it as a front. Sleeping was a vulnerable state to be caught in, and Sunset seemed like the guarded type. The fact that Twilight managed to sneak around her like that made her feel a certain kind of way, one that she refused to try and define.

So, now she could infer a little about Sunset, but only a little bit. Still, no one had arrived yet, so she thought to use these precious few minutes of privacy to get a bit more out of her.

"Did you have to be on your guard back at Canterlot High or something?"

Sunset turned and raised an eyebrow at Twilight, but shrugged. "Nah.”

Once again, there was that leading tone, but as Sunset rubbed her eyes and slumped over in her seat, head resting on her hand, it became clear she wasn't going to expand on that either. Twilight tried to hide her irritation with Sunset's monosyllabic answer. She was hoping for a little more substance to work with, but Sunset didn’t seem too keen on opening up about anything.

"I guess that makes sense,” Twilight replied. “I doubt a public school would have the same cutthroat atmosphere as a high-end school like this." Twilight immediately cringed, not meaning to sound as conceited as she undoubtedly did.

"That's one way to put it."

Once again, Sunset didn't seem all that willing to hold up her end of the conversation. It didn't seem like she was giving the cold shoulder, but she didn't seem willing to go into detail about... well, anything at all. Even if she were exhausted, the least she could do is expend some effort for small talk.

The aggravation kept mounting in Twilight. She'd been playing nice so far, but the questions burning in her brain were starting to char her grey matter. It was imperative for her not to push Sunset away, but this kind of refusal to be forthcoming just wouldn't do. They likely only had a minute tops before the rest of the students started rolling in. She had one more chance. She had to go with whatever landed on her tongue.

"Why do you keep deflecting?"

Moments like this were ones Twilight would use as evidence why it was good that she overthought everything, and why she shouldn’t try speaking to anyone. The room was uncomfortably still, and for a moment, Twilight thought she’d ruined everything.

Fortunately, Sunset broke the uneasiness with a raspy, tired chuckle.

"Hey, my bad," she said through her laugh. "I wasn't aware that's what I was doing. I just barely know where I’m at right now.” Sunset smirked at her. “You’re really eager to get all up in my business, though, huh?"

Sunset's laughter was as warm and friendly as ever, but it only deepened Twilight's anxiety.

“You’re not mad?”

“No, no, you’re right. I can be that way sometimes. It’s cool.”

Twilight still wasn’t sure if Sunset was being sincere. She waited for her to stop laughing and suddenly snap to a serious tone like she’d used on Fleur’s group the day before. As the seconds ticked by, though, Sunset still seemed calm; welcoming, even.

That only made Twilight feel more ashamed. Was that really what she was doing? Sure, Twilight told herself she was doing it out of concern for her own safety, and not for potential gossip fodder. But there was no way for Sunset, or anyone else to know that.

The first person to stick up for her in almost two years, and Twilight was grilling her. Maybe there was a reason it took that long.

“I’m really sorry,” she said. “That question came out wrong.”

“Don’t sweat it.”

Twilight swallowed, taking a moment to mentally scan her next response before launching into it. Perhaps in a misguided effort to atone—either to herself or Sunset, she wasn’t sure which—Twilight decided to come clean. At least partially.

“I don’t know how you’ll take this, but I looked you up online last night. And I wasn’t trying to dig up any dirt on you or anything, honestly! But… I was really curious about you.”

Sunset’s eyebrow piqued. “And what, pray tell, were you so curious about?”

“I don’t know,” she answered. “The whole “prior accomplishments” thing Ms. Versine mentioned, where you came from, that kind of thing…” Twilight nervously picked at her fingers. By the end of that admission, she felt racked with shame and guilt.

“Oh,” she said.

“If you think I'm some kind of creepy stalker and don’t want to be friends anymore, I’d totally understand. I just have so many questions! But I know that’s not a good excuse. Anyway, sorry, I will leave you alone now if you’d like.” She concluded her confession with a forced, hollow chuckle, deeply repressing the urge to play with her hair. Her eyes wandered under Sunset's continued gaze, which surely looked at her with scorn now.

Seconds passed like eons without an answer, and the silence was driving Twilight crazy. Eventually, she had to face the music. Surprisingly, Sunset didn't look angry, but absent were her mirth, her amusement, and her warmth. Somehow, this felt worse than the explosive anger she was expecting.

That was until Sunset opened her mouth.

"That's why you were up all night, huh?"

Twilight looked away and nodded, feeling like an ant burning under a magnifying glass.

“I didn’t realize I had such an impact.” Sunset cracked a smile. "That’s really sweet.”

“What?” Twilight wasn’t sure that was the word she meant to use.

“The fact that you want to know so much about me,” said Sunset. “It’s sweet.”

Apparently it was, and Twilight felt a flurry of emotions in that moment. So much so that she could offer nothing beyond a perplexed and equally embarrassed look.

“Also, you're kind of a bad liar, you know that? But, hey, don't worry, I'm not mad. I mean, in your position, I'd probably be really curious about me, too. I did just kind of show up out of nowhere in a really unusual way. I just have a knack for that, and you’ll see what I mean by that once you get to know me."

Sunset turned her attention to the front of the class, Ms. Versine now present and rifling through some papers on her desk. A few students had taken their seats toward the front of the class. Thankfully, they were all out of earshot.

"For now,” Sunset explained, “all you really need to know is what I said yesterday: I'm not from around here. Not this city, state, or country. That's probably why you couldn't find any info on me. But why don’t we meet up in the library at lunch? I can tell you more then."

Twilight was surprised, relieved and amazed to see that easy smile on her face after everything. She was grateful Sunset wasn’t upset, but was still irritated at how many more questions that left her with. The only lead she had now was that Sunset was a foreigner of some kind, but that was still too dull of an edge to narrow anything down. Still, at least it partially illuminated why her search the night before was unproductive.

Much to her chagrin, she had to let it be until lunch. Even if Sunset took her interrogation in stride, Twilight wasn’t about to push her luck any further. Besides, too many students had arrived for her to feel comfortable talking about this any longer.

The bell rang, and Ms. Versine launched into the day's lecture. The school day had officially begun. But at least Twilight had something to look forward to at lunch. That was a first.

Sunset Shimmer was proving to be a fascinating enigma. Fortunately, Twilight loved a good puzzle.

When the day began, Twilight imagined she and Sunset would eat in the cafeteria this time. That plan changed after the beginning of first period.

She sat in the same spot she had the day before, arriving shortly after the lunch bell. She expected Sunset to be fashionably late, but after enough time, she genuinely wondered if she was going to actually show. There was a chance she was eating her lunch first, and she’d meet her there halfway through the period, but Twilight wasn’t unfamiliar with being ghosted. With a sigh, she dug out one of her textbooks and a binder, figuring that was as good a time as any to get some homework done. The work was, as per usual, relatively easy for her.

Usually, it wasn’t hard for her to divide her attention evenly between eating and working. Though, once she got into the rhythm, she found her thoughts of Sunset drifting in and out of her mind.

Twilight tried to keep her brain totally occupied with her work so as to not leave any room for irrelevant thoughts, but when space permitted, her new friend(?) found her way back into her mind. And the longer she went without showing, the worse Twilight felt about it.

It felt unreasonable. Sunset had never said when she was going to show up. She wasn’t required to show up, either. And besides, what if something happened? How guilty would Twilight feel after dwelling on these thoughts, only to find Sunset got in trouble, or hurt, or worse?

Still, it ate away at her. It had only been two days, but Twilight could feel herself growing attached to Sunset. It wasn’t hard to see why—who wouldn’t cling to someone who’d done as much as Sunset had done for her already?

At the same time, that only made Twilight more paranoid. For Twilight, any relationship of any kind was very much here-today-gone-tomorrow. The less attached she was, the easier things would be when their friendship inevitably dried up. Twilight considered Sunset’s no-show to be further evidence as to why she should be slow to trust.

Then she heard a backpack drop onto the floor.

“Sorry I’m late.” Sunset plopped down into the chair across from Twilight’s. “Ran a block or so down the street to go get something from the corner store.”

Twilight poked her phone sitting on the table, the screen lighting up and displaying the time. It had only been eight minutes since lunch started. If it was the corner store Twilight thought—the only one within walking distance to school—the Sunset must have been sprinting.

Yet as Twilight looked up, Sunset didn’t seem winded. She definitely looked tired—those dark circles still underlining her vibrant teal eyes—but no worse than she looked that morning.

One of Sunset’s eyebrows slowly raised. “What?”

“Oh, uhm, nothing,” Twilight stumbled. “Just glad you could make it.”

“Still pretty tired, huh?” Sunset smiled, reaching into her bag and pulling out a tall aluminum can decorated in all sorts of bright flashy colors. “I probably should have offered to get you one of these, too.”

Sunset lightly tapped on the top of the can with her fingernails, something that brought Twilight’s attention to the nutritional facts displayed on the side.

“Caffeine content: 240mg per can,” she read aloud. “I don’t think I would have asked for one. That sounds like it’d give me heart palpitations the rest of the day.”

“Fair enough.” Sunset held one hand over the top of the can, gingerly pulling the tab up. The hiss from the air pressure being released was muffled by the strategic placement of her palm.

“You’re not supposed to drink in here,” Twilight remarked.

A muffled *pop* punctuated Twilight’s sentence.

“What, you gonna narc on me?” Sunset prodded.

“Well, no, but–”

“Please let me have this,” Sunset interrupted. “I didn’t have one this morning, and if I wait any longer to drink this, my head will cave in from this massive headache I’ve had all day. Do you want that on your conscience?”

Instead of making this any bigger of a deal than it was, Twilight elected to turn a blind eye. As long as she was careful, it would be fine.

“You require caffeine to stave off headaches?” asked Twilight. “That doesn’t sound particularly healthy.”

Sunset shrugged. “Yeah, but that’s only part of why I have a headache now.”

“Why else?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

That was an irritating answer, but Twilight accepted it with an eye roll.

“When I saw one of these for the first time, I was kind of horrified by the contents,” Sunset continued. “Then I tried one, and now I’m hopelessly dependent on the can. I know they’re not good for me, but it’s either this, or not being able to get through the day.”

“Don’t you think you should quit?” asked Twilight. “I mean, there are other ways to increase energy that don’t involve chugging overstimulating sugar slurry.”

“No, mom, I don’t. Not unless you have a way to wire the good parts of this into me intravenously.”

Sunset brought the can to her lips, tilting it back as she took several swigs of the borderline toxic beverage.

“Maybe I could, but that would require there to be any good ingredients in that.”

Placing the can back down on the table, Sunset exhaled like she’d been submerged for a full minute. Twilight stared at the presumably empty can, concerned over how quickly Sunset downed that caustic, cloying concoction.

Then, she had an idea. Something about Sunset’s answer to her previous question gave her the perfect segue into finding out more about her new friend.

“Speaking of moms, were your parents okay with you getting home late last night?” she asked. “I mean, assuming you were late since you dropped me off?”

Breathing a light chuckle, Sunset reached into her jacket pocket, pulling out a green lollipop.

“Don’t have parents,” she answered. “Well, I do, but I don’t live with them, and I haven’t seen them since I was really young.”

As Sunset placed the lollipop in her mouth, Twilight immediately figured she wasn’t going to explain any further than that. Thankfully, her response left the impression that wasn’t a touchy subject, so maybe it was okay to keep going.

“You don’t? Then who do you live with?”

“Nop- Nobody.”

Twilight giggled. “Who’s Nope Nobody?” she asked, taking a jab at Sunset’s slip of the tongue. When she didn’t react, Twilight cleared her throat. “No one at all?”

“Nope.” Sunset took the candy out of her mouth, taking another sip of her energy drink. Twilight felt a little relieved she hadn’t chugged the whole thing at once.

“Are you an exchange student of some kind?”

With a smirk, Sunset leaned back in her chair, the front legs suspended off the ground.

“You’re really interested in me, aren’t you, Sparkles?”

“Wha–? No, I’m not! I mean– kinda– I mean, I’m not trying to be weird, but–”

“Chill,” Sunset said with a held up hand. “Like I said this morning, I get it. I’m just messing with you.”

Her eyes wandered around their corner of the library as if she were looking for a story. Leaning forward, Sunset’s chair fell on all four legs, her hands lightly slapping against the table. Even with her head turned to Twilight, she avoided eye contact.

“If it’ll satisfy your curiosity, I’ll tell you a little about myself. Not telling you where I’m from, but I’ll give you a quick rundown of my upbringing. Is that good enough?”

Twilight nodded, her eyes fixed on Sunset as she leaned in.

“My parents and I never got along,” she began with a slight smile. “I mean, they never got along either, and I guess that bled over to me. They didn’t like each other, so seeing that at a young age made me think I shouldn’t like them. My little brother and I were the only ones that got along, but I didn’t live at home long enough for that to amount to much.”

Twilight had to stop her jaw from dropping. How could she say all of that without a hint of sadness? Even worse, she almost made it seem like that was humorous.

“My parents had these really lofty expectations of me. So, when I was young, I was enrolled in a school for gifted–” Sunset motioned her hands as if she couldn’t remember the word “–kids. Kind of like this one, just without as much nepotism.

“To be fair to them, I definitely belonged in some kind of gifted program, but I always felt like my parents enrolled me because if I got in, I would be somebody else’s problem. Sure enough, I was accepted at a young age, and from there, I rarely saw my family much at all anymore. That might sound sad, but believe me, it was a relief. It was a good thing.”

Unsure if she could agree with that, Twilight once again nodded as Sunset continued.

“Anyway, I was super far ahead of my peers. The school’s… headmaster—who was and still is a major politician, by the way—noticed this, and asked me to be her protege. And, well, no shit I said yes.”

Even though Twilight was enthralled, her heart hurt for Sunset. There were already so many theories running through her head about how Sunset’s past shaped her into the girl sitting in front of her. Maybe this poor relationship with her parents was the reason for her earlier outburst from being called Sunny?

Aside from that, Twilight was stunned to hear she’d been taken in by someone of such significance. It certainly lent credence to the idea that she’d accomplished amazing things already. She couldn’t help but wonder who took Sunset under their proverbial wing, and she hoped Sunset would tell her.

“I lived with and studied under her for a few years, and she was nice at first. I got closer to her than I ever did with my own mom. Which isn’t to say we were ever that close, my mom just set the bar really low.”

Sunset took a sip of her energy drink before continuing.

“Eventually, it became obvious she was training me to be her successor. I started getting bored with my lessons from her—the same way I did in school—and I asked her if we could… skip ahead. I felt ready, but she disagreed and refused. After that, we got into a lot of fights, and after the biggest one, she told me I wasn’t her student anymore and basically tossed me out on my ass. Imagine getting fired from school at, like, twelve years old. That’s basically what that was like.”

Even if Sunset punctuated that part of her story with a genuine laugh, it was difficult for Twilight to hide how horrified she felt hearing that. How could she run through these events as if they were normal parts of growing up? How did she sound so flippant about not having a family? Or a consistent caretaker? Or essentially being abandoned? More than once!

“Instead of going back to school, or returning to my family, I just… ran away. I went to and from a lot of different places, and I finally stopped when I ended up here. Met up with an estranged uncle by chance, and lived with him for a couple weeks. Something happened, and after that he just kind of… left. Said ‘it was better this way,’ or something. We didn’t fight or anything, but that “something” that happened is a whole can of worms I don't like to get into. We haven’t spoken since then, but he still sends me a check every week, and that’s how I’m able to live in an apartment by myself.”

Twilight could barely process everything she’d heard. A guilty part of her almost didn’t want to believe anything Sunset was telling her, especially after being so intrusive earlier. But everything she said felt too concise to be made up on the spot, and seemed to flow from her a little too naturally to be rehearsed.

Sunset scratched her cheek. “I, uhh, don’t know if I’ve ever laid it out like that to anyone, but yeah, that’s basically my life’s story.” To Twilight’s amazement, Sunset ended her sentence with a light chuckle, as if she were reminiscing on the parts of her life she was fond of.

Even still, she could detect an air of awkwardness from her—something she hadn’t seen from her until then.

Twilight surprised herself with what came out of her mouth next.

“Can I hug you?”

Sunset’s brow furrowed. “Uh, sure?”

Standing up from the table, Twilight walked around and wrapped Sunset in an awkward embrace. The other girl sat there, that same look of confusion on her face. Still, she put one arm up around Twilight in what could only be referred to as an imitation of a hug. After a brief bout of discomfiture, Twilight took her seat across from Sunset again.

“Gosh, Sunset, I… I don’t know what to say.”

“Well, you don’t have to say anything,” she replied. “Not that I’m not interested in your opinion or anything, but I know how hard it is to add commentary to a stupid sob story like mine.”

“Stupid sob story?” Twilight incredulously repeated. “It’s not that, it’s just that… I’m really so sorry you went through so many horrible things.”

“What? Why? Don’t be.”

“How can I not be?” Twilight argued. “All of that sounds awful.”

“It really wasn’t that bad.”

“I don’t know how you can say that.”

“I’m still alive, aren’t I?”

“I mean, yes, but–”

“Then that’s all that matters. You asked, I told you, that’s all that needs to be said. All of that is in the past, and I prefer to leave it there.”

There was a shift in Sunset’s demeanor. So far, Twilight had seen several modes in Sunset, but (barring this morning’s outburst) only interacted with her in two states: relaxed or stoic. For the first time since they’d met, Sunset’s piercing glare was aimed at Twilight.

“Right, sorry, I understand.” Twilight’s voice was dripping with regret. It was bad enough she kept prying at Sunset for information. Now she was dragging it out longer than she needed to.

When Twilight looked back up, Sunset’s expression was noticeably softer.

“Look, I didn’t mean to cut you off like that. It’s just… it’s not that I don’t appreciate the sympathy, but I know none of that is fun to hear. Plus, I’ll be honest, I hate it when people feel pity for me. Makes them treat me differently, and that kind of thing drives me insane. I’d rather just live in the now and forget everything else.

“I like you, and I think you’re pretty cool, so the last thing I want is for you to start thinking you need to be extra nice to me because I had it rough growing up or whatever. That’s the easiest way to push me away, and I will notice if you do.”

Everything about Sunset left Twilight a confused mess. Her emotions were all over the place. She felt ashamed for constantly trying to extract information from her. She felt happy to know Sunset genuinely liked her, and stated it in no uncertain terms. But more than all that, she couldn’t help but feel bad after everything she’d heard.

Regardless of what she thought, everything Sunset described sounded terribly unfair. Her whole life so far sounded like nothing but endless hardship. Yet, here she was. In spite of her difficult upbringing, she persevered, and seemed to be better for it. She’d arrived at CPA under extraordinary circumstances, and had already made some kind of a name for herself despite her young age. Her resilience was nothing short of admirable.

Twilight had already established that there was something different about Sunset, and after just a day and a half, she’d learned several aspects that could explain why. Even so, it felt like she was only scratching the surface.

She still had more questions, and every answer Sunset gave was a seedbed that more inquiries sprouted from. If she wanted to know more, Twilight would simply have to nurture whatever they had. That was an intimidating prospect. Twilight hadn’t ever had much luck with this kind of thing, but maybe she just needed to wait for the right person.

And maybe Sunset was just who that was.

Chapter Text

Ever since she began working on her project, Twilight had fallen into a familiar routine at the end of the school day. After her last class, she’d find herself sitting in her lab. Every afternoon, her first priority was checking EMF readings for anything new. When she found nothing of interest—as was often the case—she would usually leave and start her walk home.

However, after winter break, that routine had slightly deviated. She still ran to her lab to check for anything new, but when she found nothing, she wouldn’t leave right away. The offer Sunset made to take her home at the beginning of the week was apparently a continuous one. With it still being the dead of winter, Twilight wasn’t about to refuse a ride home in a warm car. So, to fill the time she spent waiting for Sunset to come get her, she browsed the internet out of boredom while she waited.

By default, there wasn’t much Twilight could browse. Crystal Prep’s intranet system was secure and robust, and most websites were blocked. Thankfully, Twilight had a better understanding of networking than the school’s entire IT department. Where most students would be cut off from the greater internet, Twilight had unfettered access to anything online. This was good for these waits at the end of the day, but especially so on this day in particular. Sunset seemed to be running later than usual.

Most students would use an unrestricted network as an opportunity to browse social media websites, play games, or any manner of time wasting activity. In Twilight’s case, she used it to browse news sites, ones often related to science and technology.

Unfortunately, it was a slow news day. Most of the articles she saw were ones she had already read during lunch. There was one new story, though, and it felt like a strange coincidence. It was an article related to MyStable, specifically how it had been the target of a ‘cyberattack.’

For a moment, Twilight was worried that her script from the other night had accidentally been received as an attempted DDoS attack¹. She was already going to give it a read, but that made her want to even more. The last thing she needed was another visit from authorities over something like this, and if that were going to happen, she’d at least like to be ahead of it.

When Twilight read the actual contents of the article, she was relieved, though she couldn’t help but roll her eyes. The so-called attack was merely a single employee getting phished, and their credentials being used for something. What that ‘something’ was, the article didn’t specify. That either meant they didn’t know, or it was something far worse than they could say in a media release. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d seen a sugarcoated report of a MyStable data breach.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Initially, she thought that meant Sunset must have finally arrived. Closing her laptop and packing it away into her bag, she excitedly made her way to the door. Today was the first day they hadn’t eaten their lunch together since the week started, so Twilight spent most of her school day looking forward to meeting up again.

When she opened it, she was unpleasantly surprised to see who it actually was. A pit of dread formed in her stomach. Indigo Zap stood before her, though she seemed different. As far as Twilight could tell, there was no antagonistic mirth, and no sly grin; just a serious look on her face.

Still, Twilight only held the door half-open. If she was trying to sell something, Twilight wasn’t going to buy it unless Zap really worked for it.

“Hey, Twilight.” Her tone reinforced the impression that she wasn’t here for the usual nonsense Twilight had come to expect. But Twilight wasn’t about to take any chances, especially not so close to her lab.

“Can I help you?” asked Twilight.

“Can I come in?” Zap asked in return. Twilight looked at her incredulously, which made her flinch. “I know. You don’t trust me. But I swear I’m not up to anything. I just want to talk.”

Twilight wasn’t buying it. “Yeah? Why should I believe that?”

Zap rubbed one of her arms and looked away. “Could you at least give me a chance to explain?”

“And if I say no?”

With a dejected sigh, Zap shrugged. “Then I guess I couldn’t blame you.”

If she was acting, she was doing a really good job at it. If she wasn’t, Twilight didn’t necessarily feel that bad for her. As far as she was concerned, Zap had made her bed, and Twilight didn’t care how uncomfortable it was, she had to lie in it.

“If you’re worried Fleur De Lis put me up to this, you don’t have to be,” said Zap. “After what happened Monday, she doesn’t want anything to do with me anymore.”

Twilight was surprised, but still wasn’t sure if she was telling the truth. Still, there was this nagging feeling that she was being genuine. Zap’s friendly veneer was almost convincing, but always one degree away from seeming completely insincere. This was different. She seemed genuinely upset.

Did Twilight actually care? Not really, and a large part of her was ready to slam the door and forget this exchange ever took place.

But, for some reason, she decided to let her in.

“Fine,” said Twilight, not bothering to hide the irritation in her voice.

Sitting back down in her office chair, Zap stood across from Twilight, leaning against the desk behind her.

“Umm, cool lab,” said Zap.

She may have let her in, but Twilight still wasn’t feeling particularly sympathetic to Zap, and she certainly wasn’t about to entertain empty niceties.

Twilight crossed her arms. “What do you want?”

The girl sighed, her hands in her pockets. “I’m sorry.”

Twilight expected more, but when nothing came, she let the apology hang in the air.

“Why?” she eventually asked.

Zap looked at her with a knit brow, as if she were confused and hurt by the question.

Twilight was losing patience. “What do you need from me?”

“Nothing!” she exclaimed. “I already told you: I’m not here to get anything out of you. Fleur won’t talk to me anymore, and I just want to say sorry for everything I did to you for her.”

“If you’re not here for anything, then why apologize at all?” asked Twilight. “Sure, she may have let you go or whatever, but why should I believe that suddenly made you grow a conscience?”

“Because you were right.”

Twilight’s skeptical glare briefly faltered.

Zap continued to explain. “Monday morning—when you said I don’t value myself—you were right. That’s been sitting with me all week, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. The period after Fleur presented that assignment, she came and found me, and yelled at me for not pre-reading it for her. She said that if I had, I could have warned her that you sabotaged her.”

“I didn’t do anything like that.”

“Twilight, come on.” It was Zap’s turn to look unconvinced. “You don’t have to pretend. It was pretty obvious. I don’t even think the word ‘sesquipedalian’ existed when the book she did her report on was written. And, ironically, I’m pretty sure it has more syllables than any other word in it, too.”

Twilight quietly snickered to herself. To her surprise, Zap giggled as well.

“Clever deployment of that word, by the way,” she added.

“I’m surprised you even know what it means,” remarked Twilight.

Zap scoffed. “Hey, I’m a lot smarter than you think.”

Even after sharing that moment, Twilight still felt uneasy. Zap seemed to detect this, and kept going.

“If it’ll help convince you that I’m being genuine, I actually thought it was a great idea. When Fleur told us about what you did, I didn’t even believe her at first. I thought she was just mad because she couldn’t understand the material. I mean, she didn’t even bother to read it until the period before it was due. It wasn’t until I saw all the big words you used that I realized what you were trying to do. It was a struggle not to laugh a few times, too.”

With a shrug, Twilight relented. She wasn’t about to admit that was her plan all along with her voice, especially not to Zap. The praise certainly felt nice, though.

“Anyway, I realized you were right after everything that happened in the alley. Like, it wasn’t just the thing with the report. It was the way she talked when we were—when I was holding you up. How she mentioned she deserves the top spot, only to quickly correct herself. That’s when it really clicked for me that, yeah, she really didn’t care about anyone but herself.”

Zap let out a deep sigh. “Not that it mattered all that much, because after your new friend sent me barreling into her, Fleur was furious. She told me I was useless since I couldn’t even match up to Sunset, and of course Cold Forecast agreed with her. But, like, what was I supposed to do? That girl has nearly half a foot of height on me, and she could probably benchpress me. One-handed!”

Twilight couldn’t argue with that, even if Indigo Zap was exaggerating. It was a reason she felt so calm after Sunset showed up. Even if she were outnumbered, Twilight knew Sunset could take all three of them with ease. It was one of the most enticing things about Sunset being her friend. There were other reasons why that was, but she did her best to avoid thinking about those. Even if the bullying didn’t completely stop, having Sunset around meant other students would think twice, and that had enough merit on its own.

“So,” Zap continued, “I wanted to say I’m sorry. For terrorizing you on Fleur’s behalf, for being such a bitch to you for no reason, and anything else you can think of.”

Once again, the apology hung in the air for an uncomfortably long time. Twilight felt a little sorry for Zap, but wasn’t exactly sure what the girl wanted her to say. Perhaps she was genuinely remorseful, but what did that change? It didn’t bring back the time wasted doing assignments for her and Fluer. It didn’t undo the trauma of being held up and socked in the gut on more than one occasion for noncompliance. It didn’t make the rumor about her having a thing for Sugarcoat disappear. An apology like Zap’s meant next to nothing to Twilight.

Yet, for some reason, she felt compelled to throw her a bone. Not anything like a femur, but more like an ossicle.

“Well, thanks I guess.”

Zap’s brow furrowed. “That’s it?”

Twilight nodded. “Is there anything else?”

“Really?” She looked and sounded stunned. “Do you know how long it took me to build myself up enough to say this to you?”

Twilight pulled out her phone and checked the date. “From the looks of it: about three days.”

“Okay, so maybe it wasn’t that long, but I feel really bad about all this! I mean it!”

“What do you want me to do about that?”

“Look, Twilight, I’m not expecting us to be best friends right away or whatever, but I really, truly, genuinely, mean this. I’m really sorry.”

Twilight blinked a few times. “Okay.”

Once again, Zap looked perplexed. “So what, that’s it then?”

“I guess,” answered Twilight. “You still haven’t even told me what it is you want to get out of this. I already said thanks for the apology. What more do you want?”

“I don’t know, maybe something more than ‘okay?’ Maybe give me something that tells me this means something to you?”

“Why would I give you that?”

“Why not?” she begged. “I’m trying my best here!”

Twilight stood up from her seat. “Because I never did anything to deserve what you did to me, and now I’m supposed to get over it because you suddenly feel guilty after getting tossed aside? Everything you did to me doesn’t just go away because you feel bad about it!”

“Okay, I get it, none of what I did goes away!” exclaimed Zap. “But, please, give me a chance to make it right. I don’t know how I’ll do it, but I’ll do what I can.”

Despite being an inch away from telling her to leave, Twilight hesitated. Part of her was starting to enjoy being in this position. Months of being Zap’s literal and metaphorical punching bag had led up to this, and now she was begging for Twilight’s forgiveness. All because she was dumb enough to believe Fleur was anyone worth being friends with. Leaving Zap high and dry like this was something she’d practically dreamed of. In her mind, she had every right to relish this feeling.

At the same time, she couldn’t truly enjoy it. There was a nagging in the back of her mind. If Zap was this desperate, then she must truly be alone. And even if Twilight knew that’s what she deserved, what kind of person would she be to give in to that kind of thinking? She’d prided herself on being above the petty interpersonal nonsense most of the students at CPA were mired in, and this was a chance to prove that true.

Finally, Twilight decided to bury her resentment.

“You’re right,” she began, “we’re not going to suddenly be best friends. And to be honest? I still don’t trust you. But… fine. I’m willing to move on.”

The relief Indigo Zap displayed was almost palpable. Instead of words, she responded by suddenly hugging her.

“You won’t regret this, I promise.”

“Uh huh,” replied Twilight, awkwardly returning her embrace. “Is that all?”

Zap pulled away, her brow furrowed, but a smile still on her face. “Yeah, that’s all. I’m about to be late for practice, so I gotta go anyway. Talk to you later!”

With that, Zap quickly exited Twilight’s lab, and left her on her own.

Twilight felt strange. In the same week, she’d made not one, but two very unlikely friends. Well, one and a half if she were to be honest. A large part of her expected Zap to eventually turn on her again, and for this to all be some big elaborate ruse for revenge. At least if it was, Twilight could be proud of the fact that she didn’t give into the pervasive crabs-in-a-bucket mentality that was so prevalent at Crystal Prep. Hopefully that feeling would carry her through any potential betrayal. Twilight wondered what Sunset would think about all of this.

Speaking of Sunset, Twilight was getting tired of waiting on her. She was supposed to be there ten minutes after school ended, but it had been more than half an hour, and Twilight’s patience was running thin. The fact that Sunset was so late made her nervous, but over the last few days, she’d come to understand that punctuality was not in her nature.

Perhaps timeliness wasn’t Sunset’s forté, but timing certainly seemed to be. As Twilight locked the door to her lab, she finally saw her friend on the approach.

Upon spotting her, Twilight got a hint as to why she might be running so late. Sunset’s uniform blazer was tied around her hips, and the sleeves of the blouse underneath her vest were rolled up. There were black stains and splotches all over her hands and arms, along with one below her eye. Her nose and cheeks were rosy, as if she’d been standing in the cold for some length of time.

Something about the way Sunset looked distracted Twilight so much that she barely noticed how furious her friend was. That, in turn, made Twilight wonder how long she had been staring.

“Sorry I’m late,” said Sunset.

“Sunset!” Twilight greeted. “Is everything okay? What happened?”

“I’m fine, don’t worry about it.” Sunset’s tone gave off the impression of anything but fine. “Are you ready to go?”

Twilight nodded as Sunset led the way out of the school. “Are you sure? You don’t sound too happy.”

“I’ll be alright.”

Up until this point, Twilight had never seen or heard Sunset so angry before. She was afraid to pry out of fear she might draw that ire. Then, she looked down at her arms, and thought of a way to try and extract what happened without asking directly.

“What’s that all over your hands?”

“Grease,” she curtly replied.

“Why are your hands covered in grease?”

“Why does it matter?” she snapped.

Twilight flinched, but tried not to bring attention to it. The way she said that reminded her of when she woke Sunset up in class the other morning. Only this time, that tone was directed at her.

Sunset glanced over at Twilight, and let out a deep sigh. “Sorry, that wasn’t cool.”

“It’s okay,” replied Twilight.

“No, it’s not,” argued Sunset. “I shouldn’t be like that.”

“Well, why don’t you just tell me what happened, and we’ll call it even?”

Sunset dug a lollipop out of her pocket and stuck it in her mouth. “Some asshole stuck a screwdriver in one of my tires, so I just spent the last half hour in the freezing cold swapping it out with a donut.”

Twilight was perplexed. “A donut?”

“You don’t know what a donut is?”

“Well, yes, I just–”

“A spare tire,” Sunset interrupted. “Not a confectionary treat.”

Twilight felt stupid, but elected to move on. “Why didn’t you come get me? I could have helped.”

Sunset scoffed, giving her an incredulous grin. “You know how to change a tire?”

“Well, no, but I could easily figure it out. Not only that, I have plenty of tools in my lab.”

With a surprised look, Sunset nodded. “Well, good to know for next time. But I handled it.”

“Any idea who might have done it?” asked Twilight.

“Well, initially, I thought it might have been the blue-haired girl from the other day. But this school’s so full of shitty people that it could have been anyone.”

“You mean Indigo Zap? Because I don’t think it was her.”

Sunset gave her a suspicious look.

“I just talked to her,” Twilight continued. “I don’t think she’s going to be bothering us again.”

A proud smirk spread across Sunset’s face. She probably thought she’d scared her off, which was only partially true. “Either way, I’ll figure out who it was.”

“How do you intend to do that?”

“I have a dash cam,” she answered. “And if they somehow avoided that, there are several cameras in the student parking lot. All I have to do is figure out how to get access to the school’s CCTV, and then I can figure it out from there. Shouldn’t be too hard I imagine.”

Something about that plan sounded peculiar to Twilight. The way Sunset stated that made it seem like she was going to hack into the school’s system or something, but the girl didn’t exactly seem like a computer genius. Earlier in the week, Twilight watched Sunset nearly throw a keyboard through a monitor when she couldn’t manage to print from the correct school printer.

The only other way Twilight could imagine Sunset doing that is by breaking into the school’s IT room, and that couldn’t be what she meant. At least, she hoped it wasn’t.

“I don’t understand,” said Twilight. “Why not just report the incident to the school? They’ll look through the footage and figure out who did it themselves.”

Sunset shook her head. “And then they won’t do anything.”

“What makes you say that?”

Sunset looked at her as if she should already know the answer. “Why do you think I recorded footage of Fleur and her dipshit friends holding you up?”

“So that if they did anything more, you could report them?”

Once again, Sunset shook her head. “No, I did it for leverage.”

This still wasn’t making sense to Twilight, and it left her with a bad feeling in the pit of her gut.

“If I just reported them to the school, that’s an open and shut case,” Sunset explained. “They might get punished, but if mommy and daddy have enough money, they can essentially pay or complain their sentence down to nothing, right? But if I find out who did it on my own, I can show them I have evidence of what they did, and that’s open-ended. Better yet, it ends when I say it ends.”

Despite this conversation making her feel uneasy, Twilight nodded. “Like a sword of Damocles.”

“Sure,” said Sunset. “Whatever that is.”

“You don’t know what a sword of Damocles is?”

Sunset pushed open the door for Twilight. “No, I do. I just love it when people ask me questions like I’m an idiot.”

Rolling her eyes, Twilight explained. “It’s an ancient anecdote meant to allude to the danger and uncertainty of power and prosperity. The literal explanation is that it’s a sword that hangs above someone’s head, held by a single, fragile hair from the tail of a horse. In a metaphorical sense, it’s meant to imply that someone’s good fortune is always threatened by precarity, and can come to a sudden and abrupt end at any time.”

Leading the way to her car, Sunset nodded along. “Okay, yeah. Pretty much exactly like that, except I’m standing over them with a giant pair of scissors.”

This conversation was still making Twilight wildly uncomfortable. Sunset seemed a little too into the idea of holding that position over someone. Eventually, she couldn’t keep her actual feelings inside any longer.

“You know, there is another word for what you’re doing.”

“Really?” said Sunset, stopping in her tracks with a knowing look. “And what might that be?”

“Blackmail.”

Sunset chuckled, shaking her head. “I thought you might say that. But, no, I’m not blackmailing anybody.”

“How do you figure?”

“Blackmail is used to obtain something,” she explained. “I’m not using this to get anything out of anyone.”

“Perhaps nothing tangible,” Twilight partially conceded, “but you are getting something out of the arrangement, and that counts.”

“And what is it that I’m getting?”

“Compliance,” answered Twilight. “Getting them to do what you want.”

Sunset looked annoyed. “Okay, and what do you think I want them to comply with, Twilight?”

That question made Twilight feel like she was under a spotlight. There was an answer, but she couldn’t reach it, not with Sunset looking at her the way she was.

When she didn’t respond, Sunset continued. “The only thing I’m trying to get out of anyone by collecting evidence of their wrongdoing is for them to leave us alone. I don’t make them do anything for me aside from stay out of our way, and as long as they comply with that, then everything’s fine. So, yeah, maybe it is a form of blackmail, but that makes it sound so much worse than it is. All I use it for is to keep the peace.”

Once again, Twilight didn’t have much to add to that. It felt wrong, but she couldn’t find it in her to argue with Sunset. As long as it was being used to keep them safe, and as long as they weren’t doing anything illicit themselves, did it really matter?

As they got in Sunset’s car, Twilight found herself mired in this moral quandary. Sunset recorded Fleur and her friends as a means to keep them off of her and Twilight’s back, but that never registered as a bad thing to her. Now, Sunset’s tire had been slashed, and Sunset was looking for that same kind of leverage over whoever did it. Once she had that, she would use that evidence as a means to keep the perpetrator from ever doing that, or anything similar ever again.

Maybe the means weren’t great, but if the ends were justified, what was there to say?

Still, the usage of such a tactic deeply bothered Twilight. It seemed like every time Twilight got closer to trusting Sunset, she would do something that would bring that trust into question. Even if she were doing all these things for protection, what kind of person would she have to be to have such strategies at the ready?

But then she’d think about all the things Sunset had done for her in such a short time. All their interactions and how nice and amicable all of them were. That warm feeling she got every single time Sunset got defensive on her behalf. That softness that she exclusively spoke to Twilight with.

And then she thought about what she knew of Sunset’s past. How she’d been abandoned more than once in her short life. Sunset was a runaway, and seemed pretty hardened by all of her experiences. She probably had to employ several tactics she wasn’t proud of just to survive. Who was Twilight to judge someone who’d made it this far on her own for the most part?

It felt too difficult to make a final judgement, and who was Twilight to pass that, anyway? After all, the two had only known each other since the beginning of the week. There was plenty of time for Twilight to get to know her new friend better. Besides, it was like her mom said: if she was looking to get something out of Twilight, that would become apparent soon. And if Twilight didn’t want to give in, she would reveal herself sooner rather than later.

One thing was for certain: having Sunset in her corner felt much better, and much safer than to not. And Twilight just had to hope she was making the right choice by getting closer to her.

Chapter Text

When Twilight didn’t hear from the principal on Monday, she had a feeling she wouldn’t until the end of the week. Maybe it was just her paranoia, but Twilight felt like that was very deliberate. She had to know that Twilight was expecting to be called to her office to deliver a progress report, and probably wanted it to hang over her head to make the wait even more agonizing. It just seemed like something she’d do.

As Twilight stood before the principal’s office with a folder in one hand, she tugged the hem of her skirt with the other. She had been standing there for about five minutes, and if she waited any longer, it might seem like she’d wandered off instead of going to the office like she was asked. And even though Twilight had been anticipating this moment all week, she still wasn’t ready for it.

Twilight knew this conversation wouldn’t go her way. No matter how she attempted to present things, the principal wasn’t going to be happy with her or her lack of progress.

Her mind and body were at an impasse. One part of her knew she had no more time to waste, while the other part of her wanted to turn tail and run.

Eventually, one of those parts won, and she knocked on the door.

A terse voice immediately cut through the thick door in front of her. “Come in.”

Twilight slowly entered her office. While it never really felt hospitable, the anticipating Twilight carried made the entire room feel so much more foreboding. The dim shroud that covered nearly every part of the room aside from her desk and its occupant certainly didn’t help matters either. With each step, Twilight felt her stomach twist in another knot.

After walking for what felt like a mile, Twilight sat down on the uncomfortable stool in front of her desk. The principal herself was sitting in the office chair on the other side, the back still facing Twilight. Without a word, she spun around, a slight grin on her face.

“Twilight,” Principal Cinch greeted. “I will assume you know why I called you here.”

With a dry swallow, Twilight nodded. She tried to speak, but it was difficult to coax her voice out of her throat.

Principal Cinch raised an eyebrow. “I expect you have some good news for me. Do you not?”

Twilight shifted around in her seat. The lack of any back support on the stool combined with the perpetually mounting anxiety caused her to slump forward.

“Well,” she stammered, “I don’t have any major updates, but I do have news.”

Cinch’s meager mirth melted away almost instantly. She didn’t say a word, instead motioning for Twilight to go on.

Twilight opened the folder and began to explain.

“As you know, when I first started gathering readings for this project, the electromagnetic frequency I’ve been targeting was nearly off the charts. And, as you’re aware, they plateaued sometime right before winter, crashing down until there was almost nothing. This coincided with a random earthquake in the area—something I unfortunately haven’t been able to find any record of aside from random testimonials. Aside from that, I can’t seem to find any reasons as to why it occurred.”

Cinch’s glare didn’t let up. Twilight was doing her best not to let her nerves come through, but there was an unmistakable tremble in her voice. Nevertheless, she pressed on.

“While the levels still haven’t recovered from what they were in the fall, they are indeed recovering.” Twilight paused, taking a page with two graphs on it from the folder. “The first graph represents the levels pre-winter break. The second one represents what they are now.”

Twilight slid the paper toward Principal Cinch on her desk. Cinch leaned forward, squinting at the charts in front of her. “These look nearly identical,” she remarked.

“It may look that way, but I assure you: they’re not.” Despite Twilight’s contradiction, Cinch looked unconvinced. “They are different by a very small factor, but different nonetheless. In fact, the readings have been steadily increasing every day since the day of that random earthquake, and there have also been small, anomalous bumps on the graph. Up until recently, it’s been impossible to tell by what factor the EM frequency is increasing, but since returning from break, I’ve managed to calculate it.

“If I’m right—and I have little reason to doubt myself—the frequency will eventually return to its previously recorded values after some time. It may take a while for it to get back to where it was, but–”

“How long?” Cinch interrupted with a question.

“Um, well,” Twilight stuttered, “the thing is, it doesn’t need to return to the same levels as before, I just–”

“How long?” Cinch repeated, more sternly this time.

Without a way around it, Twilight sighed in surrender. “Approximately twenty seven months from now.”

Cinch’s eyes narrowed on Twilight. Her piercing gaze made Twilight want to vomit, but she held firm. She just hoped she’d be able to hold herself together through whatever Principal Cinch had to say next.

Staring blankly at the laptop before her, Twilight sighed. Her eyes felt like they were burning. Not only had she been staring at the screen for way too long, she’d been crying off and on since her conversation with the principal earlier that day.

Once the meeting was adjourned, she locked herself in her lab. One of the bonuses of being the top student was that she could opt out of classes when she wasn’t feeling good. It wasn’t a privilege she used very often, but on a day like today, it was vital for her wellbeing. The students at CPA treated her like garbage enough already, and even with Sunset at her side, she wouldn’t let herself be seen in tears. That would be like bleeding in a shark tank.

She knew her window of time to figure something out with this project was shrinking by the day but that timeframe had just been decimated. It was immensely distressing, disappointing, and depressing. Had Twilight known it was going to take this long to see results, she wouldn’t have fixated on this phenomenon the way she had.

After all, it was never meant to be a long-form project. It was supposed to be something she could easily figure out, sum up her findings, then use as leverage to get out of her awful school. If her research bore fruit like she’d wanted, Everton would be practically begging for her participation in their independent study program. Instead, she was stuck waiting.

No matter which way she looked at them, the readings just didn’t make any sense. A meteoric rise, three straight days of peaks and valleys, an enormous burst paired with an inexplicable earthquake, and then… nothing. For hours, days, weeks, now months, just nothing. There were bumps on the graph every day since the earthquake, and those had continually grown with each passing day, but they could have meant anything. Other than that, the ambient levels themselves were rising, but the increase was marginal. Plus, without knowing what these readings represented in the first place, all of that information was worthless.

Besides, any number of things could be the cause at that point. Radio interference, power grid fluctuations, geomagnetic storms, solar activity like sunspots—and those were just several of many possibilities. Even if it was growing every day, the rate at which it was increasing was far too slow. It didn’t matter if Twilight herself didn’t think so, Principal Cinch had made it clear: that simply wasn’t enough.

Twilight crossed her arms on the desk, resting her head against them. She’d been bashing her head against this for a while, and had long since hit the point of stagnancy. She wanted to believe there was something she wasn’t seeing, but what could it be? It didn’t matter how many times she looked over the data, there was simply no stone she hadn’t turned.

It was times like these she wished she had a second set of eyes to look over things. Maybe the problem wasn’t the equipment or the readings. So many things had been swapped out in this experiment that the only constant factor was Twilight herself. But even if that were the case, she didn’t want the risk associated with involving another person in her project. This was her baby, and she didn’t want anyone to steal it from her.

The longer she thought about it, the more it made her want to cry again. Just as her eyes screwed shut, a knock at the door caused her to nearly fall out of her seat.

“Just a second!” she called, packing her laptop and other things into her backpack. When she opened the door, Sunset was staring at the doorway. When Twilight didn’t make her usual swift exit, Sunset took that opportunity to scan the room behind Twilight. Despite this being their routine for a week, Sunset had never seen her lab for more than a split second.

“I thought you said they gave you a lab?”

“They did,” Twilight answered. “This is my lab.”

“Really?” she asked as she walked in. “Looks kinda like a repurposed maintenance closet to me.”

Twilight glared at her, eyes stinging from the tears she was trying to hold back.

“What? I’m not trying to be a jerk, but I mean just look at those pipes going across the ceiling.”

“Whatever,” said Twilight. “Let’s just go.”

“Hey, don’t get me wrong, I think it’s cool, I just–”

“Can you stop, please?” Twilight snapped. “I just want to go home.”

The moment Twilight saw Sunset’s reaction, she almost froze. She looked uncharacteristically offended.

“Who shat in your oats this morning?”

Twilight didn’t move. A mixture of emotions was causing a volatile reaction inside of her, and she didn’t know how to articulate what was happening to her. She was afraid, especially since Sunset looked so annoyed and confused.

“Sunset.” Twilight felt herself choking up. “Please, just take me home.”

To her surprise, Sunset’s expression quickly changed. “You sound like you’re about to cry.”

Twilight didn’t respond.

“Hey–” Sunset put a hand on her shoulder, “–before we go anywhere, how about we sit down real quick?”

Twilight wanted to swat her hand away and assert that she was fine so they could just go home like she wanted to. But as she felt Sunset tug on her shoulder, she followed her gestured direction. Twilight sat back down in her office chair, and Sunset sat on the desk next to her. At first, Twilight couldn’t bring herself to look at Sunset, but when she finally mustered up the courage to do so, Sunset looked firm; almost angry.

“That little bitch and her dipshit friends are bugging you again, aren’t they?” asked Sunset.

Something about the seriousness in Sunset’s voice sent everything tumbling down inside of Twilight. She couldn’t hold it together anymore. All the frustration from what was starting to feel like a failed project, along with her encounter with Cinch all came forward at once. Her hands met her face as she quietly sobbed.

“Hey, hey, hey,” said Sunset, her voice uncharacteristically soft. “We don’t need any of that. You just tell me who did what and I’ll–”

“It’s not them,” Twilight interrupted.

Wiping her eyes, she found Sunset staring at her with a concerned look. It made her feel warm in a way she wasn’t used to. Maybe it was because she’d spent the whole day lamenting, but that warmth quickly melted her defenses.

Skipping the details of the project itself, she explained to Sunset how her research experiment has been going nowhere, and the ensuing conversation with the school’s principal as a result of that. When she got to the end, she saw Sunset with that same look, only even more firm than before.

Sunset knelt down next to Twilight. “Well, I might not be able to do much about Cinch, but maybe things will change soon, huh?”

“Highly unlikely,” said Twilight. “The slow progress on this project seems pretty set in stone, and without knowing more, there’s not a lot I can do about it.”

“Maybe you can’t do a lot, but stranger things have happened, right? You never know when your luck might turn around.” She put a hand on Twilight’s thigh and gave it a comforting squeeze.

As much as Twilight appreciated Sunset’s sympathy, it didn’t do much to help with her problem. Sure, it gave her a bit of emotional relief, but that was ephemeral. In the end, she found herself wishing she’d never said anything at all. Gathering her things, Twilight proceeded with leaving like she’d wanted to all along.

“Thanks, Sunset,” she offered. “I appreciate you hearing me out.”

“I do what I can,” Sunset replied. “Though, maybe I could help you with your project?”

After closing and locking the door to her lab behind them, Twilight shook her head. “No offense, but this is a project I’ve already put a lot of work into, and I’d rather not tell anyone what it’s about before I have anything to show for it.”

“I mean, I get that, but you really don’t have to worry about that with me,” Sunset contended. “I’m not gonna poach your potential discovery. I just want to help you out.”

Twilight still wasn’t willing to budge. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I would assume someone with “previous accomplishments” would always be on the hunt for another to put under their belt.”

Sunset shrugged. “Well, you know what they say about assuming.”

Twilight rolled her eyes, already having heard the tired adage about making an ass out of yourself before. Nevertheless, she decided to humor her.

“I don’t. What, pray tell, do they say about it?”

A serene smile spread across Sunset’s lips.

“Don’t do it.”

At first, Twilight only cracked a grin, but something about Sunset’s delivery managed to hit her funny bone, albeit on a bit of a delay. It was a giggle until it became a full blown laugh. Even if she were amused, Twilight tried her best to contain her laughter, especially after snorting.

“I know,” Twilight said through a chuckle, “it’s not that funny.”

“Wow.” Sunset put her hand over her heart. “Feed my ego with your laughter only to starve it after the fact?”

“No no, that’s not what I meant, I–”

“One of these days you’re going to realize I’m almost always messing with you when I say something like that.”

“Yeah, but like, really, I…” Twilight took a moment to let her thoughts and words resynchronise. “Sometimes, I laugh way too hard at stupid things, and sometimes I don’t stop even after it’s not funny anymore. I’ve been told it’s kind of annoying, so–”

“It’s not,” Sunset interrupted. “Besides, I think it’s nice to see you laugh after seeing how you were feeling a few minutes ago. And, honestly? I think it’s cute.”

Twilight’s cheeks heated up so fast she could feel her cranial fluid simmering. She quickly corrected this, forcing her mind into several dark corners to prevent herself from showing how that made her feel. They had only been friends for one whole school week so far, and she wasn’t about to let her weirdness mess this up.

“But, really, I’m not trying to steal whatever you’ve got going on, I mean it.” Sunset opened the front door to the school, letting Twilight through. “But you’ve got me curious. If you won’t tell me what it is, can you at least tell me what it might have to do with?”

For the rest of the walk to the parking lot, Twilight contemplated how honest she should be, or whether or not she should even answer her at all. But the more she thought about it, the less fair it felt not to give Sunset something to work with.

When they got to Sunset’s car, Twilight noticed how Sunset had cleaned up the passenger side. The seat was still looking a little rough, but the bags and wrappers that were scattered in the leg room were gone. She smiled slightly. For all she knew, Sunset could have done that just because she felt the need to clean her car, but the idea that she’d done it for Twilight made her feel warm.

That in mind, along with how much Sunset had opened up to her, and how she’d just managed to pull her out of an all-day depression spiral, Twilight finally caved.

“A few months ago—somewhere in the fall, specifically—a certain frequency of electromagnetic radiation in the city started rapidly rising,” Twilight explained. “Then, one day, there was a huge spike. The same day that happened, there was a bright flash in the sky, and an earthquake immediately followed. You wouldn’t happen to remember either of those things, would you?”

Sunset was about to stick the key in the ignition, but she froze halfway through Twilight’s explanation. When she turned to face Twilight, her face was bereft of any discernible expression.

“I… don’t remember anything like that, no.”

That was strange. Everyone else she talked to remembered at least one thing or the other. That didn’t mean much, though. Sunset could have been asleep, or out of town, or too busy with something else to notice.

“Well, after that, the ambient radiation levels fell back to nominal levels, and while they’ve steadily been increasing, the ascent appears to be incredibly slow. Since then, there’ve been a few blips in my readings, but they’re never that significant—more than likely just interference from myriad different sources—so my progress on this project has stalled, and I’m running out of ideas. That’s why Cinch was on my case today.

“At the rate it’s going, my projections estimate it’ll be a little over two years before they return to what they were before the spike. But by that point in time, I’ll have already graduated, and I was kind of banking on this project being my ticket out of this school and into an independent study program. I’ve already sunk so much time into this, and been given so many resources for this project that I can’t come up empty handed, but I don’t know what to do anymore.”

As Twilight concluded, she realized Sunset still hadn’t moved. She was still holding her hand near the ignition, the key trembling in her hand. That was a strange reaction, but Twilight couldn’t parse any reason for her to act that way, so she wrote it off as nothing. After an eternal lull in the conversation, Sunset finally put the key in, but didn’t turn it. Instead, she laid back in the driver’s seat, pensively grabbing her chin and looking up at the roof of her car.

“Where are you getting your readings from?” she asked. “Like, how are you detecting them?”

“I have a specialized, personally modified EMF reader in my lab. But, due to extenuating factors stemming from those aforementioned modifications that would take far too long to explain, it only gives very broad readings that can’t help me find where the radiation is centered. I could try using a regular handheld one for more specific detection, but I would have to modify and test it before I could rely on its readings. Not only that, it wouldn’t be able to give me very robust reports on the fly like my current setup can. Even if it could, I don’t have a means of getting around town aside from public transit.”

Sunset’s brow furrowed momentarily, a grin spreading across her lips soon after.

“So the issue is your current EMF reader isn’t portable, but it could be if you could drive, right?”

Twilight nodded. “Theoretically. It would still need a power source, which I suppose if I had a vehicle with the right modifications, I could have it run off of the automotive power system. But, like I said, I don’t have a license; much less a car. And for all I know, the power required by these systems could kill a car battery within a few hours.”

Sunset’s smile got wider.

“How big is this EMF reader?”

Twilight tilted her head. “There are two main machines, both about the size of an average desktop computer, and each requires their own power source. I usually have them routing the readings through my laptop. Oh, and there’s the antenna, but that’s not very big, nor does it require its own power source.”

Her smirk remained, but Sunset’s eyes looked back and forth as if she were waiting on Twilight to continue.

“What?” Twilight asked. “Am I missing something?”

Sunset rolled her eyes. ”So both of those devices could fit in, say, a space like that–” Sunset pointed her thumb at her backseat “–right?”

Twilight blinked, still unsure of what Sunset was getting at.

“Are you going to make me spell it out for you? I’m trying to say we could use my car, you dork.”

“Oh.” Twilight’s face burned with embarrassment. “I mean, I might be able to. But there are a few issues with that. For starters, your car presumably doesn’t have any traditional outlets, therefore I wouldn’t be able to power the devices. Even if it did, in the event the power demand did kill your battery, I wouldn’t be able to replace it for you. Plus, regardless of my modifications, the equipment belongs to the school, and I doubt they would approve of me removing it from school grounds just to use in the back of the car. And on top of all that, I couldn’t ask you to taxi me around like that without proper compensation.”

Sunset pointed below her car radio. “That’s an auxiliary power outlet. Most people plug phone chargers into those, but they make power strips for them.”

“Phone chargers demand a very low amount of wattage” Twilight argued. “The fastest phone chargers usually demand one-hundred watts. The equipment I’m talking about would require ten times as much—maybe more. I would also probably need to have a more direct line to your car’s power distribution system, and that would certainly kill the battery. The only way I could feasibly run everything would be with some kind of portable power station, and that would be another large expense on top of everything else.”

“Okay,” said Sunset. “How about you leave the power situation to me, and you handle the rest?”

“Sunset, a PPS is no small purchase. They can cost–”

“Just let me handle it,” she interrupted. “You can worry about everything else.”

Twilight still wasn’t convinced Sunset knew the kind of price range she was looking at, but there were other reasons this wouldn’t work, so it felt unnecessary to get hung up on this one aspect.

“Even then, we still can’t move the hardware without potentially getting in trouble.”

“Potentially,” Sunset repeated. “But as long as we’re sneaky and careful, we can bring it in and out without anyone ever knowing. And if we get caught or something happens, I’ll take the blame. You won’t have to worry about anything.”

Twilight looked down at the floor. Sunset had some points, and Twilight was eager for anything to get this project moving, but was this worth the risk? What if they get caught? Or what if the equipment gets damaged on the road? And aside from that, there was still the question of fuel costs required for such a venture, something which she could not reliably compensate Sunset for.

The risk Sunset was taking wasn’t worth it. If everything went right, she’d have a net zero gain from it, and if it went wrong, it could be at a significant personal cost for her.

Which meant that, more than likely, she was doing it for one reason: leverage.

After an extended bout of deliberation, Twilight looked up at Sunset with a squint. “What’s in it for you?”

She glanced to the side briefly. “Pardon?”

“Why are you offering to–”

“Ugh,” Sunset groaned, “do we really have to go over this again? Are you just always going to assume the worst about me?”

“Sunset, I’m not trying to be obtuse, but you have to be able to see how nothing about this is worth it for you.”

“And?” she contended. “Why do I need to get something out of it?”

“Weren’t you talking about leverage yesterday? How do I know this isn’t something you plan on holding against me later on?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Really?” asked Twilight. “You mean to tell me this is never going to come up later on, like when you need something?”

Apparently, that was the worst question that Twilight could have asked. Suddenly, Sunset seemed incensed.

“Are you ever going to trust me?”

Twilight blinked. “I do trust you.”

“Do you really?”

“Of course I do!”

“Then what kind of question was that? Why can’t you seem to understand that I don’t want anything from you? I’m not out to take advantage of you, I’m not here to steal your work, I’m not out to get you!”

“Because, Sunset, people don’t work that way!”

“Sure, maybe most of them don’t,” Sunset argued, “but I’m not most people!”

“And how can I know that for sure?”

Sunset pinched the bridge of her nose. “Twilight, what do I have to do to prove it to you?” What is it that I have to do to make you believe I’m not going to suddenly turn on you one day?”

That was a difficult thing for Twilight to answer. On one hand, she could recognize all of the good things Sunset had done for her since they’d known each other. On the other hand, it had only been a week since they’d known each other, and she was still perplexed by this girl’s background.

And that was what was holding her back.

“I don’t know,” Twilight finally replied.

“Is it me, then?” said Sunset. “Is it something I’m doing?”

“I don’t know!” shouted Twilight.

The inside of Sunset’s car fell silent. For a brief eternity, everything was still.

Despite how animated she was moments ago, Sunset seemed to calm down quickly. It was good timing, considering Twilight felt close to shutting down entirely.

“Twilight, you’re onto something big here,” she said. “What it is? I can’t tell you. I’ve just got a feeling you’re on the verge of something huge. Aside from that, I know what this project means to you. I could see how much it meant to you when we talked about it in your lab. And I know why you’re doing it. You want to get out of here, and I don’t blame you. This place sucks, and if you want out, I want to help you get out of here.”

Twilight didn’t know how to respond. A brief staring contest followed, ending when Sunset blinked and sighed.

“Okay, fine, you want the truth?” she asked. “I also just… kinda wanted an excuse to hang out with you.”

Despite Twilight’s heart sinking into her stomach, she wasn’t totally convinced.

“Even if it’s something as boring as driving around town collecting readings that may not even go anywhere?”

“Yes!” Sunset breathed a sharp exhale. “Ignoring the fact that I enjoy scientific research too, even if I wasn’t that interested, it’s something you’re clearly interested in, and I’d like to know more based on that reason alone. Plus, it’d mean we could hang out somewhere that isn’t school. There, happy?”

Twilight’s stomach wrung her heart dry as it twisted into several knots. Sunset was doing so much to try and be her friend, and yet every move she made, Twilight balked at. All this time, Twilight thought she struggled to make friends because of her peers, but maybe they weren’t the only issue.

Sunset turned the key in the ignition and threw her car out of park. “If you don’t want to, then fine. I won’t push the issue anymore,” she said curtly.

As they pulled out of the parking lot, Sunset’s expression softened noticeably. “And… I’m sorry for getting snippy like that. It’s your project, not mine, and I was imposing. So please don’t feel bad about–”

“Give me a week,” Twilight interrupted. “I don’t want to take the equipment from my lab, but I can probably convince my parents to get me the same EMF reader I have at school. As long as I can do that, I can make the proper modifications to it, and then we can set up our own mobile command center. How’s that sound?”

Sunset glanced over briefly, a smile spreading across her lips as she kept her eyes on the road.

“Take all the time you need. I’m not about to go anywhere, anyway.”

Twilight offered an apologetic smile back, though she wasn’t sure if Sunset saw it.

“And, uhm, I’m sorry for being so skeptical all the time.”

Sunset held a hand up on the steering wheel.

“Don’t worry about it,” she replied. “After being here for just a week, I can definitely see why you wouldn’t trust any of your classmates. Thanks to them, that’s something I’ll have to work my ass off to earn with you, but I think I can do it. Plus, I… probably should have just said why I wanted to do this from the beginning.”

Admittedly, Twilight was still in disbelief, but less at Sunset’s motivations like before, and more at the fact that she wanted to spend time with her. Even after pushing her away, even after constantly questioning her every word and move, Sunset was still warm to her, and despite her evident frustration, showed she had a deep well of patience for her. She wasn’t sure just how much depth that well had, and was afraid she may find out sooner rather than later, but maybe that meant she should stop testing the waters.

One thing was for certain, though: Twilight couldn’t wait to get this project moving. Figuratively, and literally.

Chapter Text

Friday evening, not long after Sunset dropped Twilight off at her house, a blizzard blew in. It seemingly came out of nowhere, and threatened to dump more than a foot of snow on the ground. By the time she got up to her room, the snow was already coming down hard. Knowing Sunset was driving out in those conditions made Twilight unreasonably nervous. She stared out the window for an indeterminate amount of time, worst case scenarios running through her head.

Eventually, Twilight texted Sunset to make sure she got home okay. If her reply—a single thumbs up emoji—was to be believed, then her friend had made it home just fine. After that, Twilight should have been finally free from her catatonic anxiety spiral.

But with one anxiety out of the way, there was another to take its place.

That would be their only correspondence for that day, and unbeknownst to Twilight, the rest of the weekend as well.

It wasn’t like Twilight didn’t want to talk to Sunset. She wanted to, and very much so, but she never knew what to say. Even when she did think of something, she’d type it out only to find a way to talk herself out of it, then erase the whole thing. Most of the time, whatever she had to say felt too boring. Sunset’s time was too valuable to be wasted on banal inanities.

For some reason, Twilight viewed text messaging Sunset as something she needed a good reason to do, as if they were a scarce and finite quantity. That was how she’d felt since they’d exchanged numbers, and that’s why their text conversation history wasn’t even long enough to fill up the entire phone screen. They might have been friends, but Twilight was always afraid of exploring how far the boundary of friendship with Sunset went.

The conversation they had in her lab didn’t help. Frustratingly enough, Twilight felt as though it should have. Despite her emotionality, Twilight seldom ever let anyone see her cry. The fact that she’d done so in front of Sunset, and nothing bad happened, should have been something that made her feel more secure.

After all, Twilight couldn’t stop replaying that moment in her head. When she broke down in front of Sunset, her friend immediately took on that defensive attitude she always seemed to have at the ready. When she thought Twilight was being bullied again, she sounded ready to fight. When she found out the reason she was upset, her demeanor shifted to one of kindness and compassion. 

Sunset had been so nice to her up until that point, but Twilight had never seen or heard her be so soft before. It made her heart flutter in a way she was too afraid to acknowledge.

That was the first and only time Sunset had seen Twilight in such a sorry state, so of course she was going to be nice. Her friend wasn’t aware of how often she could get that way, and that was very deliberate. If Sunset knew, she would probably think twice about being Twilight’s friend. Despite the feelings of comfort it inspired, Twilight felt compelled to run away from them for that reason. She’d learned that letting go of her defenses, even around the people close to her, was a fast way to make them second guess whether they wanted to be close at all.

Granted, it had been years since the last time something like that had been affirmed in her mind—at least as far back as elementary school—but something like that happening at such an impressionable age had seared a mark onto Twilight’s brain. With every year that passed, another ring grew around that burn, and crystalized that fear in her mind.

Even with all of the anxiety it made her feel, it was so hard to push the memory out of her mind. The way Sunset insisted they stay and talk before leaving when she could tell Twilight was upset. The soothing sound of her voice when she gave Twilight those gentle reassurances. The feeling of Sunset’s hand on her leg, and the gentleness of her fingers when they delicately squoze her thigh.

The fact that Sunset thought her inability to stop laughing after something stopped being funny was cute.

Once that thought crossed her mind, Twilight was determined to distract herself. The only avenues offered by those thoughts were ones that led to painful ends.

Twilight spent the majority of the night planning out her trip with Sunset next weekend. She started by making a list of all the parts she’d need to order, then plotted out the places they would stop along the way, and then fiddled around with rewriting scripts for an hour or so. 

Unfortunately, it wasn’t long before she hit a wall, and could do no more until the parts she needed arrived. That left her with little in the way of mentally engaging activities. There were plenty of things for her to do, but nothing she could truly engross herself in. All of her other personal projects had been on hiatus for so long that she’d forgotten where she left off with them. When she started scanning EM frequencies, that became her obsession, and the idea of trying to figure out where she was with her other experiments was intimidating.

That gave her mind a lot of room to wander again. There were video games, and shows she could catch up on, but neither of those activities by herself could take up most of her mental bandwidth. That’s what she wanted; what she needed. 

With nothing left to keep her mind occupied, Twilight decided it was time to sleep. She spent over an hour ruminating in bed, but her thoughts were racing so fast, she could barely pay any mind to them. But even then, some would slip through, and the ones that did made her stomach twist.

By Saturday, the snow began melting rapidly. It felt like a natural disaster on top of another. The temperature rubberbanding back to being so warm after such a nasty blizzard meant the roads were now inaccessible for a new reason. One day, a thick layer of snow made it impossible to see the asphalt. By the next, it was concealed by a river of icy water. Twilight was grateful for the fact that she was such a homebody, but kind of wished she had the option to leave. She could have used some kind of external distraction.

When the day began, she thought she might be developing some kind of gastrointestinal issue. There were points throughout the day where her stomach would churn, and it seemingly did so at random. It made her worry there might be something seriously wrong with her. There were medications around the house, but what if it was something more severe than a random stomach bug? Would she be able to get help if she needed it?

Of course, it wasn’t anything worth getting worked up over, and in the deepest pits of her mind, she knew it wasn’t. By early afternoon, she’d picked up on the pattern. There was nothing wrong with her digestive system; it was a psychosomatic response to a certain classification of thought. A kind that had been wandering through her mind since the day prior. The same kind of ideas she’d been fighting so hard not to think about.

Her first instinct was to shove them down deeper, but that made the twists in her gut even more difficult to ignore. Eventually, it became physically troublesome to repress those thoughts. The integrity of the mental dam she’d built was failing, and the things she’d been trying so hard to pretend weren’t there were starting to flood her mind.

The first thought to make it out came in the form of a question: why did the rumor about her having feelings for Sugarcoat bother her?

For starters, they were based on a bogus story. Perhaps the basis of the story itself wasn’t a lie, but it had been twisted and warped to make Twilight seem like a much creepier individual than she was.

During her freshman gym class, Twilight would often change in and out of her gym clothes in a bathroom stall. There were several towards the front of the girl’s locker room itself, and even though the locks on none of them worked, she still changed in there. It was technically against the rules to do so, and while Twilight was never much of a rulebreaker, she would break that one without hesitation. The idea of showing that much skin in front of her peers was mortifying, and she wasn’t exactly all that interested in seeing any of her classmates half-naked either.

Twilight was a habitual creature. She often took the same desk in every class. At dinner, she would always sit in the same seat at the dining table. When changing for gym class, Twilight always went to the same stall.

Unfortunately, one day, she found out that she wasn’t the only one who changed in the stalls.

When she opened the stall that day, it was already occupied. Sugarcoat was almost completely undressed, which caused the girl to loudly yelp in surprise. Twilight quickly closed it back up, but it was already too late. The locker room was primarily constructed of hard materials like polished stone and metal, so everyone in the locker room heard the noise reverberate around. 

After that, all eyes were pointed at Twilight. That’s when one of her classmates, Indigo Zap, made a comment at her expense. Twilight couldn’t even remember what she said—the shock from everything had frozen her for what felt like an eternity—but the laughter that followed was like a dissonant song that she’d never get out of her head. From there, it wasn’t hard to guess who distorted the story, and even less difficult to figure out who disseminated it throughout the student body.

It was nothing but an accident, and Twilight genuinely felt nothing but embarrassed about it. She didn’t stand there and blush, she didn’t ogle Sugarcoat for any length of time; it was literally and metaphorically an open and shut situation. Yet the gossip about Twilight and her sexuality proliferated, and it bothered her to no end.

Twilight wasn’t unfamiliar with homophobic rumors and remarks. When she and Moondancer were still close friends in middle school, their classmates would often make jokes implying they were a couple. Of course, that was never the case, and Moondancer would assert they were just friends just as much as Twilight would. That helped to reinforce the notion in everyone’s mind (including her own) that she didn’t have romantic feelings for her friend, especially since she was a girl as well.

Being on her own at Crystal Prep meant she had no backup. The rumor would continue to spread, and no matter how much Twilight tried to claim otherwise, it was her word against the student body’s. Even worse, Sugarcoat wasn’t her friend, so she didn’t see a need to stick up for Twilight. Instead, she just kept her distance, having felt ‘creeped out’ by her since that moment.

The thing that got to Twilight the most wasn’t even the fact that it was Sugarcoat; it was the fact that they all claimed she liked another girl. Twilight had never had feelings for another individual of any sex or gender. To her, relationships had occupied a very similar place in her mind that friendships had: would be nice to have, but largely superfluous.

It wasn’t like she had anything against anyone who liked the same sex, she just didn’t want the baggage that came with having a detail like that about her. She was already enough of a target at Crystal Prep, and the last thing she needed was another characteristic that the worst types of individuals could latch onto.

Aside from that, Twilight didn’t want that label to be attached to everything she did for the rest of her life. Twilight had dreams and aspirations, and when she achieved those, she wanted to be known only as herself with no additional labels. If she were gay, that would be the thing everyone focused on when they thought of or talked about her. Not just her as an individual, but someone who had achieved great things despite being ‘different.’ That would be the qualifier that would precede nearly every conversation about her, and the thought of that made her ill.

Until recently, that element of herself was never in question. She didn’t like Sugarcoat like that; not before, or after the incident in PE. And in her heart, she knew the rumor would die the moment she left high school, but having to live through another two and a half years of hearing that nonsense over and over drove her crazy.

But as she lied in bed, staring at the ceiling that Saturday evening, she began to wonder if that was truly the only reason the rumor bothered her. It would be another night spent grappling with her tumultuous mind before she found rest. But it was getting harder to ignore the signal through the noise.

Sunday was meal prep day for Twilight. Though, calling it ‘meal prep’ made it sound like a lot more work and effort than she actually put into it. She wasn’t making full meals for every day of the week. No, she was just making and packing up her lunches for school. It was a habit she’d been in since the sixth grade, and even if she didn’t like school as much as she did back then, she still felt it more advantageous to get that out of the way.

This particular Sunday was almost the first time she’d missed preparing her meals for the next week. If she were honest, she didn’t even want to look at food. She wasn’t sick, but her stomach was still churning constantly. Even after spending the day prior thoroughly thinking through those thoughts about her sexuality, there was more still eating away at her.

Part of her wanted to believe she was experiencing a real digestive problem, but she had already deduced that wasn’t the case. Even if she hadn’t recognized it as something psychosomatic, such a condition is often constant, and comes with a host of other ailments that she wasn’t experiencing. No, her gut only twisted when she thought of things related to yesterday’s conversation with herself.

That, and when she thought of someone in particular.

Leaning against the kitchen sink, Twilight looked out at her backyard. The sun was setting, and the snow in her backyard was still rapidly melting. Even after such an intense blizzard, it had been warming up since winter break ended, and that seemed to be the trajectory for the rest of the season. She was kind of excited to see it go—no more having to shovel to escape her front porch—but she always felt a little melancholic watching it fade away.

These thoughts were all she had to stave off the ones that accosted her. Even then, they would often find relation to the person she was so fixated on. Melting snow meant the walk home would be easier. That meant she had less of a reason to ride with Sunset at the end of the school day.

And there it was: Sunset. Again and again, her name always found a way to come up.

All day, and all night, she would find her way back into Twilight’s mind. It wasn’t that different during school—she was still trying to avoid thinking about her there, too—but Sunset had become inescapable. Everything she did, everything she saw, everywhere she looked, Sunset was no less than two degrees of separation from.

Ever since Twilight had met Sunset, she’d been racked with all sorts of feelings she couldn’t name. During the school week, they were easy to ignore. Even when she wasn’t at school, homework usually kept her busy, and by the time she was finished with it, her brain was too thoroughly fried for her to think straight.

Unfortunately for Twilight, she was running out of places to hide from how she really felt. She was reluctant to accept it, but it was getting to the point that denying her feelings was getting painful.

Twilight liked Sunset. She liked Sunset a lot.

When she met Sunset, everything was thrown into question. Not just the details about her new friend, not just whether or not she should trust her; but also how Twilight felt about her, and others on a general level. What did she value in someone as a friend? That question led her to an even more specific one: what would she value in someone she saw as more than a friend?

The fact that such an inquiry arose from one so innocuous in comparison confused her initially. Why would she care about that? Twilight didn’t even know Sunset existed a week ago, so why would her mind jump to such a loaded question so quickly. Throughout the week, that vexed her. However, as the weekend was coming to a close, the picture was getting uncomfortably clear.

Twilight could remember that first day back from winter break so vividly. Seeing Sunset standing so stoically at the front of the class during their first period. The way Sunset’s body looked, and how it immediately drew Twilight’s attention to the point she couldn’t stop staring. The feeling she got when she heard Sunset’s low, raspy voice, and the even more intense sensation upon hearing that warm laugh of hers. The rush she got when someone with Sunset’s stature came to her aid when she was being bullied, and the safety she felt hiding behind her.

All of this mired Twilight in a state of constant internal conflict. No matter how all-encompassing these thoughts of Sunset were, there was still a wall of skepticism between her and Twilight. These feelings were impossible to interface with as long as Twilight knew so little about her. Her infatuation with her new friend was already running deep, and it would continue to do so as long as they knew each other, but Twilight knew she couldn’t give in to them.

Even if she knew more about her, would that really be enough? 

Sunset was enigmatic, but that was only one part of why Twilight found it hard to fully trust her. Another piece of the puzzle was the kind of person Sunset might be. Twilight couldn’t be sure, but when she looked at everything she knew about Sunset from a top-down view, there were things that were pertinent to take note of.

Regardless of the reasoning given, blackmailing students held bad optics. Twilight relented when they talked about it, but she still wasn’t sure how to feel about Sunset’s willingness to engage in such morally questionable tactics. At the time, she’d reasoned it away as a symptom of her upbringing, and she still believed that to be true. But if she was willing to use those methods on others, who was to say she wouldn’t eventually employ them on Twilight in some capacity?

That assessment felt unfair to Sunset. She’d given Twilight nothing but reason after reason to trust her, but that in itself made Twilight even more suspicious. Twilight was a skeptic, and Sunset seemed to be aware of that since day one. When Twilight continually pushed her with questions, Sunset always seemed to move with them.

Why would someone like Sunset be so willing to put up with that for Twilight, but seemingly no one else? There was that comment about how Twilight reminded Sunset of someone, but that had never come up again, and Twilight couldn’t be sure that wasn’t just an excuse, or worse: a lie. 

A small part of her wanted to believe she knew the real answer. If she were that willing to accommodate Twilight, then maybe, just maybe, these feelings held some degree of mutuality. Then, Twilight thought about it for longer than five seconds, and realized how delusional that sounded. The chances of someone like Sunset feeling the same way were slim to none.

After all, why would she? Just because she was so nice to Twilight didn’t mean there was any sort of mutual attraction. They may get along well, but Sunset has a completely different personality to Twilight—an alluring one, the kind that could pull anyone she wanted. 

Meanwhile, Twilight was a socially stunted geek. For as long as she’d been alive, she’d never even felt any kind of attraction to anyone, nor had anyone expressed any toward her. Sunset was traveled, and Twilight was sheltered. On a surface level, Twilight looked one-note, while Sunset looked as though she contained multitudes. Even in her wildest dreams, it would never, ever work.

All of the kindness that Sunset showed her had to be rooted in some kind of pity. There’s no reason someone like Sunset would do all the things she’d done for Twilight without it. When Twilight thought about it for too long, she almost felt resentful. More than once, she’d come close to convincing herself that she was just a prop to Sunset—something to make her feel better about herself.

But even if that were the case, it’s not like that would make Twilight upset enough to do anything about it. Being a prop was better than being alone, and being Sunset’s prop was about the best she could hope for.

Despite finally having come to terms with these feelings, Twilight would still do her best to bury them. She was lucky Sunset was so willing to be her friend, but introducing a variable like attraction into the equation—especially when Twilight felt so chronically unsure of her and her motives—could ruin absolutely everything. She was both grateful and bitter about the resentment factor. That made it easier to keep her distance, but half of her wished she didn’t have to.

However, the repression did nothing to take the pressure off. It only made it worse.

To her, the worst part about all of this was what these feelings represented. Even outside of Sunset herself, Twilight had found what she was attracted to. On an individual level, her attraction to Sunset was questionable. But on a physical level, Sunset was everything Twilight wanted. She was tall and broad, aloof and stoic. Yet, in a contradictory twist, she maintained an aura of warmth. She was nice to Twilight, accommodating to an absurd degree, and with seemingly no expectation for anything in return.

For a moment, Twilight weighed how these qualities would reflect on a boy, and quickly found that they did nothing for her. Maybe she just hadn’t met the right guy, but even if she’d met someone just like Sunset but male, it didn’t feel like she’d have any interest in him at all. 

As reluctant as she was to admit it to herself, there was one aspect of Sunset that tied everything together:

She was a girl.

No matter how things went with Sunset, Twilight had found out something important about herself. Something terrifying, something mortifying, something that turned her entire world upside down. Something she felt necessary to keep inside for as long as she could. From everyone, but especially Sunset.

After all, what else was there to do about it?

Chapter Text

Friday afternoon, Sunset found herself sitting in a bathroom stall on one of the most remote ends of the school. She wasn’t there to use it, but because she was waiting on something. With her legs crossed and eyes shut, she breathed slow and steady. If her plan worked, someone would be here any moment, and it was vital that she have the element of surprise in this encounter.

The first part of her plan for that day had gone off without a hitch. The single IT worker at Crystal Prep—a big oaf named Cloud Flare who clearly didn’t take his job very seriously—was just as negligent as Sunset needed him to be. She was able to get into the IT room to check the security footage to find out who slashed her tire. It wasn’t who she suspected, but she was going to deal with that later.

Not only that, but Sunset managed to search through student records to set up her current plan. All she needed were three things: a couple of email addresses, and a password reset on one of them. After that, she just had to send a single spoofed message, and then wait. It was a similar tactic to one she pulled at Canterlot High, but, somehow, it was even easier to pull off at a school that should have had higher security.

Sure enough, the sound of footsteps reverberated around the polished tile walls of the bathroom. Sunset felt her heart begin to pick up in pace, but refused to react yet. She had to be absolutely sure this was the right target, or this whole thing could be for nothing.

The footsteps continued down the aisle of stalls. Sunset sat in the very first one, and the student in question walked right by hers. They kept walking until they got to the very end. The last things she needed to hear were the amount of knocks on the stall door.

Two knocks slowly.

Then two quickly.

That was the signal. Sunset had lured her prey in, and it was time to spring the trap.

Gently standing up from the toilet seat, she gingerly grabbed the top of the stall door, then yanked it open with a slam! The girl yelped, and when she did, Sunset finally stepped forward. Sunset had ensnared her, and now it was time to get to the bottom of this.

“What are you getting at?” Sunset firmly demanded.

Indigo Zap cowered against the wall. “What are you talking about? What are you even doing here?”

“Meet me in the bathroom at the east wing of the school,” Sunset said, repeating an earlier email that ‘she’ sent with a wry smile. “I didn’t mean what I said to you the other day. Let’s meet somewhere private to discuss our revenge.”

“Wait, how did–?” Zap looked absolutely stunned. “That was you?”

“Last stall. Two slow knocks, then two fast, so I know it’s you.” Sunset finished quoting her spoofed message, her heated glare returning. “Now, answer me.”

“I don’t understand what you’re asking!”

“Bullshit!” Sunset slammed her palm into the wall right next to Zap’s head. “You’re up to something, and I know it. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here.”

Zap stammered, her back pressed against the wall like a cornered animal. Sunset had forgotten just how much she liked this feeling. If it weren’t for how enraged she was, she’d probably be reveling in it.

“I swear I’m not!” Zap pleaded. “I just… I just thought Fleur de Lis wanted me back! That was all! I wasn’t–”

“Your ‘apology’ to Twilight meant fuck all, didn’t it?”

The fear in Zap’s expression gave way to anger. “Of course I meant it! I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t!”

“So, you get an invitation to discuss revenge—which you take—and then you expect me to believe your apology means shit? Make it make sense.”

“How do you know I was going to take her up on that?” argued Zap. “For all you know, I could have come here to try and talk her out of it!”

Sunset chuckled, shaking her head. “And who is that supposed to fool: you, or me?” 

Zap’s anger faltered, undoubtedly realizing how flimsy her excuse sounded.

“Look, Twilight may be naïve, but I know your type,” said Sunset. “You don’t actually care about Twilight, or what you did to her. You’re just looking to get close so you can stab her in the back, because that’s the only way you think you can prove to Fleur you’re actually worth something to her.” 

“No! It’s not like that! I-”

“Shut up!” Sunset snapped. “Don’t even try to tell me otherwise, because if that weren’t true, you wouldn’t have showed up.”

Sunset leaned in close, pointing her finger at Zap’s chest.

“I will tell you this once, and only once: stay away from Twilight. Consider that your only warning.”

Content to leave it at that, Sunset turned toward the exit.

“You know, my cousin told me about you,” remarked Zap, an air of defiance in her voice.

Sunset stopped dead in her tracks.

“I wasn’t sure if I believed it,” she continued, “but you really are the Red Bat, huh?”

Turning around slowly, Sunset stared at her, a narrow-eyed smile on her face.

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll never let those words leave your mouth ever again.”

“Yeah?” Zap narrowed her eyes back. “And why should I? I’m sure Twilight would love to know all about what you got up to at Canterlot High.”

Sunset chuckled. “I figured you were stupid, but I didn’t realize your memory was bad, too.” She pulled her phone out of her pocket, shaking it back and forth teasingly, “I mean, how could you have forgotten about Monday already?”

Zap clenched her fists.

“If I hear those words come out of anyone’s mouth—especially yours—you can kiss every spot you have on every team, your generous grading curves, and all those sports scholarships you need for a chance at a decent future goodbye. And if that’s not good enough, just remember: Fleur will never even look at you again if she gets implicated because of you. And believe me: I'll make sure she knows it was you who took her down with you.”

Sunset watched as the fury in Zap increased, basking in the feeling that came from watching her squirm in helpless anger. It was like a sweet nectar she hadn’t imbibed in months, and she was getting drunk off of it.

“Don’t worry, though. The arrangement here is simple: you maintain distance from Twilight and keep your mouth shut, and I’ll keep this evidence to myself. We stay out of each other’s way, and everything will be fine. Are we clear?”

Zap refused to move, looking away with a scowl.

“Are we clear?” Sunset asked again, this time with more force.

“Fine,” Zap begrudgingly agreed, “but you’re not going to get away with this. Even if I don’t tell her, you know Twilight’s eventually going to find out, right? She might seem like just a harmless little nerd, but she knows everything about everyone in this school. You said I think Twilight is naïve, but I think you’re the one who’s underestimating her.”

Sunset snickered, making her way toward the door again. “Your concern is awfully flattering, but I think you should worry more about yourself.”

As Sunset left the bathroom, she felt accomplished, almost overjoyed. At the same time, she felt a twist in her gut, one that had been building steadily since the confrontation began. The further she got from the bathroom, the more she wished she’d stayed there. Because the longer she thought about everything, the more nauseous she became.

Within just a few minutes of the encounter with Zap, she was running to another bathroom.

Chapter Text

Walking up to the front steps of Crystal Prep Monday morning, Twilight felt a mix of emotions. This was the second week since winter break had ended, and somehow, it felt like things were finally looking up. For the first time since middle school, she had a friend—maybe even more than one. That was a marked improvement in such a short time.

After yesterday’s realization, she felt her caution about Sunset wane. Of course, she was still going to be wary, but after coming to terms with her feelings, she knew it was going to be harder to maintain so much skepticism. She knew it was still too soon to think everything would be fine between them—especially considering the way Sunset went about her business—but she also knew her judgment would be clouded going forward.

Upon waking up, she endeavored not to spend the entire day dwelling on all of this, but she’d already failed at that before breakfast. Organizing her books between her bag and locker, Twilight felt her mind race in the same short circuit it had already done numerous laps around.

Sunset wanted to be her friend, yet she didn’t know enough about Sunset to feel like they could actually be friends. She liked Sunset, but her mind told her she shouldn’t without getting to know more about her first. But even if she did get to know enough, there was little chance Sunset would even like her back. That’s why, no matter what, it made no sense to think about their relationship ever being anything other than friendship. To do so would only threaten the integrity of whatever they had. But it was hard to tell if they were truly friends yet. Rinse, and repeat.

As she finished sorting her things, she saw Indigo Zap at her locker. The two hadn’t talked since they met in Twilight’s lab last week, which is about what Twilight expected. Perhaps out of desperation, Twilight decided to talk to her. Sure, they had absolutely nothing in common, and Twilight still may not even believe she was sorry for anything, but it might get her to think about something other than Sunset. At least until first period started.

“Hey, Indigo,” Twilight greeted. “Um, how was your practice or whatever?”

No matter what Zap said next, Twilight wasn’t expecting a positive reception to her presence. However, Zap managed to defy her expectations in the weirdest way possible. She closed her locker, giving Twilight the most tense half-smile she’d ever seen.

“Hey, Twilight!” she greeted in a much too friendly tone. “I wish I could stick around and chat, but I’ve gotta get moving. Bell’s going to ring any minute, after all. See you later!”

“But the bell doesn’t ring for another…” Twilight’s voice trailed off as Indigo Zap swiftly put distance between them.

It took Twilight a moment to reorient herself after that. She was expecting apathy at best, but Zap reacted like she was terrified to talk to Twilight. That was strange for a number of reasons—the fact that Indigo Zap had easily thrown her around like a ragdoll before chief among them. Even with that in mind, Twilight couldn’t calculate which was the weirdest.

It wasn’t like Zap seemed afraid when she apologized last week. Maybe she seemed guilty (though Twilight still wasn’t sure she really was), but never scared.

Twilight stood there in the hallway, trying to deduce why she would act that way. The only thing she could think of was her proximity to Sunset, but that still hardly made any sense. After all, as far as Twilight knew, they’d only interacted once. And when Twilight mentioned to Sunset that Zap had apologized, she seemed wholly uninterested.

Tapping her chin, Twilight started to put together an unpleasant picture in her head. It may have been based on a lot of assumptions, but even in matters where conjecture was in play, she was seldom ever wrong.

Maybe it was too soon to let her guard down around Sunset.

Twilight tapped away at one laptop keyboard, her eyes on the screen of another. One belonged to her, while the other belonged to the school. She was using the scripts she’d written on the school laptop for reference as she rebuilt them from scratch on her own. She could have just copied them over, making edits where necessary, but she thought of this as good mental exercise.

Plus, it made for a good distraction. Twilight wasn’t looking forward to the conversation she was planning to have with Sunset. They had agreed to meet in her lab during their free period before lunch. After her interaction with Zap that morning, Twilight wanted answers, and she felt like Sunset was the one most likely to have them.

The sound of her lab door opening brought Twilight out of her programming induced trance.

“Sorry I’m late,” Sunset greeted, a plastic bag rustling in her hand. “Got you your black licorice.”

Twilight didn’t move from her slouch over the desk, but Sunset was gracious enough to place the bag of candy next to her. It made one side of her lips curl into a smile.

“Thanks,” she muttered.

“Having fun?” asked Sunset, grabbing the chair from the desk on the other side of the room.

“Sort of.” Twilight sighed. “A lot of the work I’m doing is a little redundant, but doing things this way is more thorough.”

“That’s the most ‘you’ thing I think you’ve said all day.” The *pop* of a can opening punctuated her sentence.

“Yeah, I know.” Twilight didn’t really have a lot to offer to a remark like that.

“So,” began Sunset, “what was it you wanted to talk to me so bad about?”

“This is probably kind of dumb,” Twilight began as she wrapped up with her work, “but I tried talking to Indigo Zap this morning, and she was acting really weird.”

“Huh.” There was a pause before Sunset said anything else. “What does that have to do with me?”

Twilight finally sat back in her seat, turning her chair toward Sunset.

“Because she–”

Right below Sunset’s somewhat swollen left eye was a bandage, and her shirt collar looked like it’d been stretched.

“Oh my gosh, what happened to you?!”

Sunset unwrapped a lollipop, sticking it into her mouth. “Don’t worry about it. You were saying?”

Twilight should have anticipated that response. She got up from her seat to get a closer look at Sunset’s face. Once she was close enough, Sunset squinted at her with both eyes instead of just one.

“Can I help you?”

“Sunset, how am I supposed to not worry about this?” Twilight’s fingers brushed gently against the contusion.

Sunset quickly pushed her hand away. “I got dinged by something, it’s really not a big deal.”

“If it’s not a big deal, then why aren’t you telling me the truth?”

“I am telling you the truth.”

“No, you’re not,” Twilight argued. “It’d be one thing if it was just the mark on your face, but what’s with your shirt? You look like you got attacked!”

Twilight tried to fix her collar, but Sunset brushed her hands away again.

“What happened to me doesn’t and shouldn’t concern you.” Sunset was trying to keep her usual chill attitude, but her choice of words made Twilight suspicious. She had a guess as to why she worded it like that, but it had a chance of being completely off the mark.

Nevertheless, Twilight rolled her chair over to Sunset, taking a seat right across from her.

“What do you mean it “doesn’t or shouldn’t” concern me? Why not?”

A skeptical look flashed across Sunset’s face. “I mean it shouldn’t matter, because it’s all been dealt with.”

“What is dealt with?” asked Twilight.

There was no response.

“Sunset,” Twilight began, taking a stabilizing breath before continuing, “does this have anything to do with what happened with Fleur De Lis?”

“Could be,” she mumbled.

An exasperated exhale bellowed from Twilight’s nose. She closed her eyes for a few seconds. When she opened them, she placed a hand on Sunset’s thigh. Naturally, Sunset started gently bouncing her leg in an effort to shake Twilight.

“Do you mind?” asked Sunset.

Twilight suppressed another show of frustration, pulling her hand back. 

“Look, Sunset, we’re friends, aren’t we?”

“I guess.”

“You guess?”

Sunset rolled her eyes. “Fine, Miss Pedantic. Yes, we are.”

“And you’re always there for me when I need you, right?”

“I try to be.”

“And why is that?”

Sunset squinted suspiciously. “What is this, therapy?”

“Ugh,” Twilight groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Sunset, I am trying to care about you!”

“Well maybe you shouldn’t!” she exclaimed.

If it hadn’t been for the look of regret on Sunset’s face after her outburst, Twilight might have jumped back. Instead, she felt emboldened; as if that look were a crack in Sunset’s armor. Twilight placed her hand on Sunset’s thigh again. This time, Sunset didn’t try to shake her.

“Look, Twilight, I’m sorry, I–”

“Sunset,” she interrupted. “Can I please just say my piece?”

Sunset glanced around the room, her eyes carefully dodging Twilight’s. She reluctantly nodded as she crossed her arms.

“From the day we met, you’ve shown me just how much you care, and since then, you’ve shown me that again and again. And while I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it, this is getting difficult.”

It was hard to tell if Sunset was actually listening. Her eyes still refused to look at Twilight, but she continued nonetheless.

“I want to care about you, but you won’t let me, and when I try to figure out why, you won’t tell me that either.”

“Why do you want to?” asked Sunset. “You get all the perks of having a friend without having to do any of the work. Doesn’t that beat the alternative?”

“The alternative? You mean actually trying to be your friend instead of letting you do everything? Why do you think I would want things to be like that?”

“Why wouldn’t you?”

“Because that’s not how a friendship works.”

“And how would you know that?”

Twilight felt incredibly offended. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Sunset let out a deep sigh, clearly regretting her last question.

“Okay, yeah, that was a shitty thing to say, my bad. But I’m not trying to be a jerk, I’m just trying to tell you not to worry about me like that. You don’t need to. Like, really, I know how to handle myself, and I’ve got things figured out. I’m the last thing you need to concern yourself with, and I prefer it that way.”

“But why?”

“Why not?”

“Why won’t you answer my questions instead of flipping them on me?”

“Because that’s all the answer you need.”

Twilight’s patience was running incredibly thin, but she wasn’t going to give up. Sunset may be stubborn, but Twilight could be just as much—if not even more so—when she needed to be.

“Sunset, if you won’t let me care about you, then we’re not really friends, are we?”

Her eyes went wide as they met Twilight’s for the first time that conversation. 

“What do you mean by that?” she quietly asked.

“If you refuse to engage with me emotionally on anything, then how can we be friends?”

“That’s not true, though!” Sunset argued. “What about last week? When you were in here, and you were in tears after your conversation with Cinch? Was I not ‘emotionally engaged’ with you then?”

“Yes, you were, but that’s not what I mean. I trust you enough to let you know when and why I feel bad, or when something bad happens to me. And that’s not easy for me, especially here! But because you don’t ever do the same with me, it tells me you don’t trust me. And why don’t you?”

“I do trust you!”

“Then why don’t you treat me like it?”

Sunset opened her mouth to respond. It hung ajar for a few seconds before closing back up, her gaze falling to the floor between them. As the pause hovered over them, Twilight silently hoped this was finally the moment she’d broken through to her.

Sunset swished the lollipop around in her mouth, the candy clacking against her teeth several times before she bit down on it with a crack.

“I found out who put a screwdriver in my tire last week.”

“How did you manage to do that?”

“Don’t ask,” she quickly answered. “I just managed to do it, and while I was walking to the store, I saw the guy who did it going the same way.”

“…So you went and started a fight with him?”

Sunset looked incensed. “No!”

“Then what happened to your face?”

“So what? You just assumed I swung first, huh? Is that what it is? That’s the kind of person you think I am too, huh?”

“That’s not what I–”

“You talk about how I don’t treat you like I trust you, and this is how you react when I show up with a mark on my face? Like I’m just going around looking for trouble because it’s fun?”

Sunset was fuming, and Twilight was too frightened to answer. When she didn’t, Sunset went on.

“The only reason I got anywhere near him was because I wanted to confront him about it! It wasn’t like I went after him looking for a fight. I told him that unless he gives me the money I spent to replace my tire, I was going to report him. You know what he did, Twilight? He fucking headbutted me! So, no, I didn’t just “go and start a fight.” Maybe lay the fuck off of me, huh?”

“Sunset, I wasn’t trying to accuse you of anything, I was just asking you a question!” Twilight defensively held her hands up. “And maybe that was a bad way to ask that, but all I’m trying to do is put together what happened. Like, I still don’t know how you managed to find out who-”

“The fuck does it matter, Twilight?” Sunset was nearly shouting. She didn’t even sound angry anymore, just desperate. “I get my tire slashed, I get hit in the face, and you’re interrogating me like I’m just going around starting shit with people for no reason?”

“Sunset, that’s disingenuous and you know it. You were trying to extort him! I understand why you did it, but–”

“But what, Twilight? Are you really going to say that like it’s not an act of self-defense? You know how the other students are here, yet even though I’m just trying to protect myself and you, I’m the bad guy? I’m the only person on your side, and I’ve done nothing but prove I’m not like the others, but you still keep treating me like I’m some shady bitch who’s secretly out to get you!”

Twilight was split down the middle. One half of her was scared to death, and the other felt immensely guilty. Sunset was right about having only done things that proved she was trustworthy, but Twilight still treated her with an elevated skepticism. Zap’s apology was almost unbelievable, yet Twilight still took that on its face without much care to question it.

“This is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you, Twilight!” For a moment, it sounded like there was a choke in Sunset’s voice. “This happens with everyone! I try to tell them about my problems, and they all assume it’s my fault! So, yeah, maybe you’re right to question whether or not we’re friends, because you sure don’t treat me like we are!”

Hearing the last part of her rant filled Twilight with regret. There were so many things she wanted to say, but none of those words could find their way out of her. While it was impossible to tell, it felt like Sunset had gone through this whole tire debacle as a result of stepping in on Twilight’s behalf last week. Regardless of whether or not that was true, she still felt incredibly guilty for grilling Sunset about this, and even more so for doubting her all the time.

When words failed her, Twilight stood up out of her chair, wrapping her arms around Sunset’s thick frame as best she could. Considering Sunset was sitting, and her arms were still crossed, it was an awkward embrace to hold. Twilight was expecting Sunset to want to pull away immediately. Instead, she felt Sunset’s arms unfold, doing their best imitation of a hug back. Even with how weak it was, Twilight could feel tension releasing from Sunset’s shoulders the longer the hug went on. She knew Sunset would never admit it, but Twilight could certainly tell she’d needed that.

“I’m really sorry,” Twilight finally said.

“Ugh, no, don’t.” Sunset shook her head, now trying to pull away from Twilight. “I should be sorry. I’m just being a bitch because I got my shit rocked, and I shouldn’t be taking it out on you.”

“No, you were right,” Twilight argued, holding the hug.

“It’s fine, really,” Sunset contended. “I don’t want you to feel bad about it. You don’t need to–”

“But I do feel bad about it.” Twilight let her pull away, looking down as she picked at her fingers. “This whole time we’ve been friends, I’ve just been questioning everything about you and what you do. Even when you saved me from Fleur and her friends, I still interrogated you about it. And, yeah, maybe it does scare me the way you… well, do what you do, but…” Twilight’s voice trailed off without much of a follow up. Thankfully, Sunset seemed prepared.

“Look, I get it,” said Sunset. “I get why it’s not a good look, and I get why you might not want to be associated with that. But, if you’ll notice, everytime I do something shady, it has been because of what someone else has done to us first. I never do it just because I want to. I do it because, if I don’t, everyone will think they can walk all over us.

“Besides, I don’t even have to do it that often. You notice how no one has messed with you since everything happened last Monday? Word travels fast. What I did to Fleur and her stupid friends sent a warning to all the other students: if one of the richest, most popular girls in school can’t get away with messing with us, then no one else should even try.”

There was a part of Twilight’s mind that nagged her about this. Even if it were hard to argue with Sunset, it still felt like playing their stupid game, and that was something Twilight prided herself on not participating in. At the same time, Sunset was telling the truth. No one had messed with her at all since Monday, and she’d even ostensibly made friends with one of her former bullies. 

Still, Twilight knew better than to think this protection would last forever. Methods such as these tended to eventually backfire on whoever engaged with them. Even if she was socially isolated, social updates trickled down to her just the same as everyone else. One rumor begets another, and it was all sickeningly cyclical.

But as Twilight had remarked to herself so many times: something about Sunset seemed different. If she were only wearing a friendly face, it certainly would have cracked by then. Twilight was rigorously questioning her, yet Sunset seemed committed to making her case. And while she may have gotten heated, and even insisted she had, she hadn’t really taken it out on Twilight.

Twilight let out a shallow sigh. “Just… please be careful with this kind of thing. Even if it's off school grounds, fighting can get you expelled, and I really don’t want to lose you so soon after you showed up.”

“Don’t worry. I didn’t lay a finger on him. Though, I bet he’ll be wishing I had once his ass gets suspended for slashing my tire.”

Twilight rolled her eyes, and Sunset smirked.

“So,” said Sunset, “are we good, then?”

For a moment, Twilight thought about bringing her encounter with Indigo Zap up again, but decided to refrain. It just seemed like it would reignite the exact discussion they’d just had. Sunset and Twilight were friends. And though Sunset was an enigma, Twilight just had to trust that whatever she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. Typically, for Twilight, that was a scary prospect, but considering how she felt, it felt like Sunset might be worth taking that chance on.

“Yeah, we’re fine,” replied Twilight. “And sorry again. You deserve better than me expecting the worst out of you. Especially after everything you’ve done for me.”

An uncharacteristically genuine smile spread across Sunset’s lips. It wasn’t her normal casual grin, and there was no snarky comment waiting to come out after it. Twilight knew she’d never admit it, but the only thing behind that smile was sincerity.

“Now,” Twilight began, “we should probably head to the nurse’s office before lunch. You should really ice that thing.”

“What? No way,” said Sunset. “I start walking around here with an ice pack on my face, that’s going to make me a target.”

“They’re going to know something’s up, Sunset. It’s not like a bandage or the eventual black eye you’re going to get will say anything differently about what happened to you.”

“That’s what you think,” she argued, “but an ice pack shows you need relief. Walking around with a swollen eye in plain view, acting like it’s how you usually look? That tells everyone you’re rawdogging it through the pain. It sends a message.”

Twilight couldn’t help but giggle at Sunset’s choice of words.

“Okay, fine, addendum: we’re good now. As long as you get up and come with me to get an ice pack.”

Sunset rolled her eyes and sighed, standing up from her chair. “Fine, but I’m not holding it against my face in the hall. Only when we’re back in here.”

Twilight rolled her eyes, but conceded. “Deal. Now, let’s get going.”

It was a small step, but it felt like a giant leap. Twilight still hated that Sunset had to get hit in the face before she’d let her mask fall, but loved the fact that Sunset finally opened up to her in any capacity. Even though things got incredibly and uncomfortably tense, it gave her hope for their friendship. She felt like Sunset trusted her a little more, and she felt like she could trust Sunset a little more as well.

Chapter Text

Slumping forward in her computer chair, Twilight let out a long, drawn out sigh. She’d just (hopefully) finished typing up the last script needed to make her new EMF reader function properly, and not a moment too soon. It wasn’t like it was a strenuous task on its own, but being in such a hurry had introduced several factors that made it more difficult than it needed to be.

For starters, she had to make some modifications to the script due to the EMF reader not being the exact model she used at school. That should have been fun for her, but the issue was that typing was a bit awkward. 

Part of her modifications involved taking the device apart and soldering a few things, and she’d burned her fingers more than once in the process. Where she would usually use all of her fingers to type, she was down to only seven. While that didn’t slow her down all that much, she kept having to pause every time one of her singed fingertips touched a key.

Such sloppiness was uncharacteristic of Twilight. She often obsessed over safety protocol, but she was under the gun. Most of the new equipment may have arrived on time, but a few, incredibly vital parts had only arrived that morning. Those pieces had to be situated before Twilight could finish everything else, so she rushed through the installation process with reckless abandon. Sunset would be arriving in the afternoon, and she didn’t want to keep her waiting, so caution played second fiddle to expediency.

That wasn’t the only reason she was in such a hurry, though. There was an undeniable excitement bubbling inside of Twilight, and that made her want to go faster. Even if it had been a week since she’d made this plan with Sunset, it still didn’t seem real to her. Someone was interested in what she was doing, and they wanted to help. Even Moondancer rarely offered to help with Twilight’s personal projects, not because she didn’t find them intriguing, but because she was usually too wrapped up in her own to split her attention.

Not only that, but since they’d known each other, Sunset had proven she was someone Twilight could count on to understand. When she talked about the intricacies of her work, experiments, and inventions, others would often stare at her like she was speaking a different language. If not that, they would follow up with some inane comment about how everything she said flew over their head.

When she talked to Sunset about what she was doing, she always seemed engaged with it. She’d ask questions, add commentary, and make suggestions—something rarely afforded to her by anyone else.

It was a little embarrassing how ecstatic she was, and even more so when Twilight remembered how her feelings factored into everything. And some part of her was still wary of Sunset, even after they’d had their breakthrough moment at the start of the week. That day really seemed to unlock something in both of them, though. Ever since then, the underlying tension between them really seemed to unwind, and that made it easy for Twilight to let the excitement lift her up.

Twilight’s phone buzzed with a new notification, the vibration sending it plummeting into a trash can below. The resulting noise startled her to the point of nearly falling out of her seat. She hadn’t realized it was sitting on the edge of her desk so precariously. Usually, something like that was never an issue. After all, Twilight barely even knew what it sounded like for her phone to vibrate before the week began. She was still getting used to it.

Digging through the many crumpled papers that filled the bin, Twilight found her phone situated in the middle. A smile spread across her face when the notification popped up on screen.

Sunset | 13:06
>just pulled up

Twilight quickly tapped out a response, grateful her thumbs remained uninjured.

>do i have to? :( 

Not long after, Twilight heard a knock on the door downstairs. It was officially down to the wire.

She ran the first test of the final script, and groaned when an error window popped up.

Twilight could hear Sunset talking with her parents from downstairs. She couldn’t make out any words, but she could tell Sunset was putting on the friendliest voice she could muster. It amused her to compare that tone to her usual flavor of deadpan. 

Of course, she wasn’t too focused on the details. She was still hurrying to get this script functioning. After locating a line of code that looked to have incorrect syntax, she reorganized it and ran the test once more. Yet again, an unhelpful error message. Twilight growled under her breath, scrolling through her script in search of the erroneous line.

The conversation downstairs seemed to pause. She assumed Sunset was just waiting down there for Twilight to be done. The pressure continued to mount, and Twilight began scanning row after row for the problem.

Finding another questionable set of lines in the script, she swapped around a few of the arguments, ran the test, and was met with yet another window.

“Ugh, come on!” She slapped her palm against the desk.

“I think you forgot a bracket–”

“Wagh!” 

Once again, Twilight nearly fell out of her seat. After collecting herself, there was an unmistakable giggle coming from behind.

“Sorry,” Sunset said through a laugh, “I thought you would have heard me coming.”

Twilight sat back up in her chair, her face feeling a tad flushed. At first, she was a little irritated, but when she saw how amused Sunset was, it was hard to be. She was hiding her chuckle behind a gray hoodie sleeve. 

Truthfully, Sunset’s attire surprised Twilight enough for her to forget she was laughing. Twilight wasn’t sure what she expected her to look like outside of her school uniform, but it wasn’t what was in front of her. 

Sunset’s loose hoodie was at least one or two sizes too big, which contrasted with her tight black leggings. She had a black ball cap over her hair which appeared to be tied up in a ponytail. Perhaps most surprising was the fact that she was wearing glasses. She’d never seen her wear them at school, or while driving, even though Twilight knew she owned a pair.

Regardless, it was a good look on Sunset. Twilight tried not to think about that any longer than she had to. Not while Sunset was standing right in front of her.

“I’m the one that should be sorry,” Twilight replied, turning her attention back to her computer. “I’m trying to finish this last script, but I can’t–”

“I was serious,” Sunset interrupted. “I think you forgot a bracket.”

Twilight furrowed her brow, trying to figure out where in her alphanumeric hodgepodge she could have forgotten a bracket. It wasn’t until Sunset pointed her finger at the screen that Twilight found exactly what she was referring to. Her cheeks burned as she clicked the space where the bracket was missing and filled in the missing character.

For the last time (she hoped), she ran the test. A few seconds went by.

And to her surprise and relief, it worked.

“I can’t believe that was it,” Twilight lamented. “I didn’t know you knew how to program, too.”

“I don’t! I just know a few very basic things about it, but I’ve never tried to get invested. Maybe someday, though.“

That took a bit of the sting out of the embarrassment. It may have been a simple mistake, but at least that meant she couldn’t judge how disorganized the rest of her code was.

“I could always teach you, if you’d like,” offered Twilight.

Sunset shook her head. “Maybe some day, but I think you’d get fed up with trying to make me understand it.”

“I don’t know,” Twilight contended. “I’m surprised you were able to spot that. To me, that shows promise and potential.”

Sunset shrugged. “One of my old buddies is a programmer, and I used to watch him do stuff sometimes. The last time we hung out, he made that exact same mistake. He was working on this project for a couple of days, and he was getting super frustrated at one of the scripts or something. He probably wouldn’t have noticed the problem if I didn’t look over his shoulder and point it out. That’s why that idea was so fresh in my mind.”

Twilight wondered who this “old buddy” of hers was, but knew better than to ask. If she were willing to talk more about him, she would do so unprompted.

“So,” Sunset began, “does that mean you’re ready to move all this to the car?”

“Yeah,” Twilight confirmed, closing out everything and moving her files onto a flash drive. With that, she unseated all the cables from both parts of the EMF reader. “Both of these devices are pretty heavy, so which one do you…?”

Twilight’s voice trailed off before she could complete the question. Sunset was already picking up both large metallic boxes, hoisting them onto her shoulders with what looked like relative ease.

“Are you sure about that?” asked Twilight. “Both of those are around thirty pounds.”

Sunset scoffed. “I look pretty sure, don’t I?”

That was hard to argue. Even with their mass, Sunset was carrying them like they weighed nothing. It was impressive, and made Twilight feel things that, if she let herself feel for too long, would probably make her shut down, and she really couldn’t afford to in this situation.

“If you want to go ahead and bring those down, I’ll get all the cabling and meet you there,” said Twilight, trying to avoid looking at Sunset’s display of strength any more than she had to.

“Sounds good, see you downstairs.”

Sunset lugged the two devices down the stairs on her shoulders. As she did, Twilight gathered up all the cabling, rolling up and organizing each one. Once they were all coiled, Twilight threw them over her shoulder, grabbed a bag with some other necessary things, and headed down the stairs.

When she got to the bottom step, she saw both her parents standing there, each with a wide smile.

“We’ll probably be back sometime late this afternoon.” Twilight fidgeted with the cables on her shoulder, wishing her parents would stop staring at her the way they were.

“Do you think she’ll want to stay for dinner?” asked Velvet.

“I’ll ask her and let you know,” answered Twilight. “Oh! And if she says yes, she’s a vegetarian, so keep that in mind.”

Velvet nodded. “I can work around that, you just let me know sweetie.” Her mother gave her a side hug. “You two have fun out there.”

“And be safe,” added Night Light, giving Twilight a hug right after her mother. “It’s supposed to rain, so be careful on the road.” 

“We’ll be fine!” Twilight assured. “Sunset’s a good driver, and we’ll be stopping a lot, anyway.”

To Twilight, this felt silly. As excited as she was to do this, her parents seemed even happier about it. It was undoubtedly because she was doing something with a friend, and they were glad to see their daughter getting along with someone. But that made the whole thing feel weird. She was happy to see them happy, but she would have rather had them treat this like a normal thing instead of her first date.

Twilight waved goodbye to her parents, heading out of the front door and toward the driveway. Sunset had already placed both main devices of the EMF reader in her backseat. She was leaning against her car, her arms laying crossed on the roof, idly tapping some kind of rhythm with her fingers.

“There you are,” she remarked. “I thought you might have gotten tangled up or something.”

Opening the door opposite of Sunset, Twilight rolled her eyes, placing the cables down next to the rest of the equipment.

“It’s only a dozen or so cables,” said Twilight. “Hardly enough to tangle.” 

Sunset let out a breathy laugh. “Well, don’t let me near them. If I even look at two cables, they’ll get tangled.”

With that, both of them got into Sunset’s car.

“So… aren’t you going to hook everything up?” asked Sunset.

“Not quite yet.” Placing her bag between her legs, Twilight pulled out and opened her laptop. “Once we get to the first stop, that’s when we’ll get started. Running these things will require power, and if I let them run idly while we’re going, it might kill your battery.”

“Well, we’re not running it off of my battery.” Sunset pointed her thumb to the seat behind her. “I don’t know if you saw, but in the backseat, there’s a portable power system-”

“Wait, what?” Twilight turned around. Somehow, she hadn’t noticed the massive block of metal and plastic with three pronged outlets lining the top. “Where did you get that?”

“Don’t worry about–”

When Twilight narrowed her eyes on Sunset, she paused and relented.

“I got a friend to lend it to me for the afternoon, okay? Chill.”

Twilight let out a quiet sigh of relief. When they’d discussed plans initially, it sounded like Sunset was going to spend her own money on a device that could have a quadruple digit price tag. It’s not like she thought Sunset might have that money to spend, but she’d learned to expect the unexpected when it came to her.

With that in mind, that cleared the way for them to hook everything up, if only just to test it all and make sure it works. Sure enough, every device was in working order, and Twilight was receiving readings on her laptop.

“Alright, now that we know everything is in functioning, we can head to our first stop.”

“Yeah, about that,” said Sunset. “What do you mean ‘first stop?’ Since we have the power supply, can’t we just leave it running while I drive us around?”

“Technically, we could do that, but– ow!” Twilight temporarily forgot about the burns behind the bandages on her fingers, a sharp pain shooting through her hand when attempting to type something. She grabbed her finger, shutting her eyes tight while she waited for the pain to subside.

Sunset looked over. “Are you okay?”

“Fine!” replied Twilight, shaking her hand as the pain subsided. “Hands are just a little sore from earlier.”

“Sore?” Sunset repeated. “That doesn’t sound like ‘sore’ to me.”

Once the pain let up for the most part, Twilight looked back down at her laptop.

“It’s not a big deal,” she stated. “I just, uhm–”

When Twilight finished typing, Sunset gently grabbed her wrist, pulling it toward her to get a closer look at Twilight’s hands.

“Really, Twilight? Sore?”

“Yes!” she exclaimed.

Sunset tilted her head with a deadpan, half-lidded stare. “Your fingers are covered in bandages just because they’re sore?

Twilight held firm. “Like I said, it’s not a big deal.”

“If it’s not a big deal, then why are you lying about it?”

“I am not!”

“Come on, Twilight. I’m not stupid.” Even though she sounded unconvinced, Sunset still looked on with genuine concern. That made Twilight feel warm.

Still, why did she want to know so bad? What did it matter? They were just a few insignificant burns. In a few days—a week or so tops—they would be gone. Yet, for some reason, Sunset was treating her as though she’d broken a bone.

Regardless, they didn’t have time to waste on this. If they wanted to get these readings before the rain started, it would be faster just to come clean.

Twilight sighed. “A few of the parts I needed for the reader didn’t get here until this morning, and I rushed to solder them so I could have this all ready for when you get here.”

Sunset frowned. “Why?”

“Well, partially because I wanted to get these readings before any rain blew in—that could potentially interfere with the accuracy of our scans—but, also, I didn’t want you to get here and have it take an extra hour before we could leave.” Twilight exhaled a frustrated breath. “I didn’t want to waste your time.”

“Twilight, that wouldn’t be ‘wasting my time.’ I would have been okay just sitting and waiting. After all, I’m the one that just wants to hang out.” Sunset’s demeanor seemed uncharacteristically soft as she spoke.

“But you’re already having to spend your day driving me around! I don’t want to take up any more of your time than is necessary.”

A soft exhale left Sunset’s nostrils, her hand gently landing on Twilight’s thigh.

“I appreciate the thought and all, but I’m the one that asked you if we could do this.” Sunset squeezed her hand on Twilight’s leg before taking it back. Twilight wished she’d kept it there. “It’s not like I’m doing anything else today—or this weekend in general, really. If you needed more time, or an extra day, you could have just told me, and we could have done something else or rescheduled. I would have been fine with that, especially if it meant you didn’t have to burn your hands.”

Twilight let out an empty chuckle, unsure of how to respond. Despite Sunset’s words of comfort, she felt like she was just trying to be nice more than anything. In her mind, she could see her getting annoyed if there had been a delay, but there wasn’t much either of them could do about it.

“Well, I guess I know for next time.”

“That you do.” Sunset gave her a couple pats on the shoulder. “Now, where to first?”

Dragging the tip of one of her few unburnt fingers around her laptop’s trackpad, she opened a batch file. All of the necessary programs and information popped up on the screen soon after.

“In case you’re still wondering, the reason we need to stop to collect readings is for consistency. While my EMF reader has been specifically tuned to filter the correct range of frequencies, that doesn’t mean it’s immune to interference. For instance, if we passed a car or a building that just so happened to be radiating the same frequencies we’re looking for without being the actual source, we could end up chasing a false lead.”

Twilight pulled up a map on her laptop. “So, there are three locations I’ve chosen for us to stop. First is all the way to the west—right before the city limits. Second is in the northmost point in downtown—just before the road that leads to Everton. And last will be the highway that leads out into the Everfree Woods. Once I get readings from all three of those areas, then, theoretically, I should be able to triangulate the center of these frequencies based on which vertices on the map have the strongest readings.”

Sunset chuckled. “Alright, are you ready for the first true test of our friendship?”

Twilight squinted. “What do you mean?”

“With that kind of route, you’re looking at being in the car with me for a few hours or more. We probably won’t be done until it’s almost dark.” 

“I’m aware,” replied Twilight. “I’m not worried, though.”

“Well, good.” Starting the car, Sunset turned to Twilight after the engine came to life. “I think this’ll be fun.”

Sunset winked at Twilight, who quickly turned her attention back to her laptop screen, hoping the burning in her cheeks wasn’t on display. Truthfully, Twilight actually hadn’t considered how long it would take to get to all three points around town, but she felt the need to lie. This was her project, and she needed to seem like she’d considered every part of it. Admittedly, it was easy for details like that to slip through the cracks when she spent so much time being excited about doing this.

Regardless, she agreed with Sunset. This was going to be fun.

Twilight placed her laptop in the backseat of the car. In order to keep herself from stressing about the results, she resolved to avoid looking at the readings as they came in. Since they wouldn’t mean much until they made every stop, it didn’t make sense to agonize over them in real time. So, in the in-between, she figured she’d make conversation with Sunset. After all, they were all the way on the outskirts of town, parked on the side of the road. There wasn’t a lot else to do.

“So…” Twilight realized wasn’t even sure what she was going to say, but after looking at Sunset, it seemed like it didn’t matter anyway.

Her friend’s body was rigid. She stared forward at one of the houses in the distance, at least as far as Twilight could tell.

“Are you okay?”

“Huh?” Sunset shook her head back to attention. “Oh, yeah. Sorry. Being out here feels a little strange.

“Why?”

Sunset sat back in her seat. “I used to know someone who lived around this area. Went to her house once. Haven’t seen her in a while.”

Twilight gently nodded. “What was her name?”

“We called her AJ.”

Leaning forward, Twilight squinted as she looked in the direction of Sunset’s gaze. “Is that where she lives?”

Sunset shrugged. “I don’t remember, but it looks familiar.”

“Was she a friend of yours?”

An uncomfortable silence filled the cab of the car, the handful of seconds each passing like a minute.

“No,” she finally answered.

Before Twilight could ask anything else, her laptop dinged. Once she got an eye for the preliminary readings, she gave Sunset the next location, and they took off.

As the two sat in a parking lot near Everton, Sunset drummed her hands against the steering wheel. A metal song played over the stereo, and as much as Twilight hated it, she was impressed by Sunset’s ability to keep up with such a fast and seemingly complex pattern with just her fingers. It was the same one she was tapping on the roof of her car before they left Twilight’s driveway.

“What is this?” asked Twilight, trying not to let the disgust she felt for the song come through in her tone.

“The song? It’s called “Laser Cloaca” by Monolithium.” Sunset smirked. “I take it you love it, right?”

Twilight rolled her eyes. “Absolutely enamored.”

With a chuckle, Sunset seemed to take the hint, and turned the volume knob down just a bit. She felt a little bad about it, but Twilight wasn’t going to complain about there being less noise. 

“What’s your plan when you get into Everton, anyway?”

“If I get into Everton.”

“When you get in,” Sunset repeated. “Don’t correct me. I always know what I’m saying.”

Twilight couldn’t help but giggle, especially when it came accompanied with the warm feeling she got from Sunset’s confidence.

“Well, if I’m still doing this project, I guess I’ll just keep going with it. See how far it takes me. If it doesn’t take me far, I’ll move on to something else.”

“Like what?”

Twilight tapped her chin as she thought of the many projects she’s left unfinished, and the many she’s not even started on yet.

“Well, I’ve always wanted to see if there’s a way to create a maglev system for typical objects within a confined space. Essentially a form of telekinesis.”

For some reason, Sunset’s eyes light up at that. “Could you actually do that?”

“Well, the hope is that I could, but the equipment and research required to pull something like that off would require a significant amount of funding. Ergo, I want to go to Everton so that material resources aren’t as much of an issue. Plus, they offer independent study programs, which means I won’t have to deal with that many others.”

Sunset nods, looking down at her steering wheel. “So you’re telling me that when you get into Everton, you’re not taking me with you?”

“I don’t think I get to make that decision,” said Twilight. “You’d have to submit an application yourself.”

“Who said anything about an application? You could just shove me in your bag like you do with your dog. They won’t notice a thing.”

Twilight laughs harder at that than she expected to. Before she could come up with a rebuttal, her laptop dinged, and Sunset gave her a knowing look.

“Where to next?”

After setting up the antenna on top of the car, Sunset and Twilight decided to stand outside while the devices collected data. They were parked on the side of a remote road right at the mouth of the Everfree Woods, leaning against Sunset’s car. Being that far out of the city meant it was eerily quiet. The only sounds that could be heard were the not far off river, and the wind blowing through the trees. Even if Twilight was excited to finally consolidate her readings, she felt at peace out there.

As the two stood outside, they were quiet. Twilight wasn’t exactly sure how to fill the void, and when she looked at Sunset, she wasn’t sure her friend wanted her to. She looked pensive, her brow furrowed as she looked up at the cloudy sky. Her eyes danced around as if they were following something up there, but as far as Twilight could see, there was nothing. 

Sunset swished the lollipop around in her mouth, a telltale sign that she was thinking hard about something. Then she shivered. Then a cold gust of wind blew by. A strange order of events in Twilight’s mind.

“You okay?” she asked, though she was starting to get sick of hearing herself ask questions like that.

“Yeah, I’m good. I just feel something weird out here.”

“Weird how?”

The lollipop audibly clacked against Sunset’s teeth.

“Something about being out here reminds me of home.”

“What about it?”

Shaking her head, Sunset kicked the ground, pushing herself off of the car. “I can’t really tell you.”

“Why not?”

“Because there really aren’t words for it.”

Twilight rolled her eyes. She should have expected an answer like that, and she wasn’t about to try her luck at getting anything else.

Strangely enough, Sunset seemed to notice that resignation in Twilight. She bit down on her lollipop, the candy cracking into several pieces in her mouth.

“Where I’m from, there are some places that just… give you a certain feeling. There are things unique to the area that don’t exist around here, and when you’re near those things, you can feel it in your gut.” Sunset tossed the lollipop stick into the grass by the road. “Since I’ve been here, I’ve only gotten that feeling a few times. The last time I did, it… really didn’t feel good.”

Staring up at her, Twilight couldn’t help but prod a little further.

“Does it feel good now?”

Sunset leaned back against the car again. “It’s hard to say, honestly. It doesn’t feel good or bad right now, but I think that’s just because whatever’s giving me that feeling hasn’t been touched.”

There were so many questions running through Twilight’s mind, but she couldn’t pinpoint anything to ask in particular. Sunset wasn’t giving her a lot to work with. Much of what she was saying was too vague to imagine any details for, but she knew that asking any further wasn’t likely to get her anywhere. She just had to hope that with time, Sunset would be less opaque.

Twilight felt a drop of water on her head.

“Come on,” said Sunset, walking to the driver’s side door. “Your thing’s probably done, and I want a milkshake.”

As Twilight stared at the map generated by their readings, she was awash with a sense of disappointment. An entire afternoon, half a tank of gas, and all she had to show for it was a map that seemed pretty useless. Two points measured at around the same frequency, while one sat slightly above. Even with that elevated reading, it wasn’t statistically significant enough to be an anomaly. They were no closer to figuring out the source since they’d started.

In theory, this could mean they’d made a triangle inside the source itself, but that seemed highly unlikely. The triangle drawn throughout the city wasn’t equilateral, but it was huge, so at least one of the vertices should have had a significantly stronger reading than the other two.

There was a spark of panic igniting inside of her, too. She hadn’t told Sunset her findings yet, but she would have to in a few moments. How was she going to feel when Twilight told her they’d not only wasted most of a day on an inconclusive outcome? 

It’s not like she could expect Sunset to want to do this again. It wasn’t a complete failure, but it wasn’t the step forward she thought it’d be. Why would she want to waste her time and money on a second round that was as likely to produce results as the first?

The two were sitting in the parking lot of a fast food joint, the rhythmic sound of rain pounding against the roof and windshield of Sunset’s car had pulled Twilight into a momentary stupor. That trance was finally broken by a loud slurping sound. Sunset had just gotten to the bottom of her milkshake. 

“That’s not a happy look,” Sunset casually remarked.

Twilight shook her head. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“I don’t think I’ve found anything useful.”

Sunset piqued an eyebrow. “So what? Why don’t we just go to the center and catch some more readings, then?”

“I mean, we could, but there’s a good chance that when we do, we get the same levels we got everywhere else.”

“And if that ends up being the case, what does that mean for our little venture.” 

Twilight slumped back in her seat. “That means we blew an afternoon on nothing.”

“I wouldn’t say it was all for nothing,” said Sunset. “I got to expose you to my music taste. That’s pretty satisfying.”

“Even though I told you I wasn’t a fan of “Laser Cochlea?”

“First off, it’s “Laser Cloaca.” Secondly, It’s never too late to acquire taste, Twilight. You’ll come around eventually.” Sunset winked.

The only response Twilight could muster was a pity laugh.

“Here, how about this?” Sunset placed her empty milkshake in a cup holder. “Guide me to a spot close to the center, and we’ll run one more test. If we don’t find anything, we come up with a better plan for next time.”

Twilight squinted. “Next time?”

Sunset cocked her head back. “Yeah…? I mean, unless you’re giving up after this.”

“N-No, that’s not what I meant! I mean…” Twilight paused, pushing the doubt out of her mind. “You’re right, we’ll figure it out.”

With a smile, Sunset started the car, and the two ventured off once more.

Thankfully, by the time they arrived at their impromptu last destination, the rain had mostly subsided. After Sunset parked on the side of the road, the two sat there for a few minutes, the car idling as the devices collected more invisible data.

Twilight’s eyes were fixed to her laptop screen as a live feed came in. Every now and then, she’d glance over at Sunset. When they started, Twilight endeavored not to look at her monitor the whole time, but she was desperate. Still, with each glimpse of Sunset she got, Twilight couldn’t help but notice how tense her friend was. It was just like when they were capturing the first reading.

“Is everything okay?” Twilight asked.

Sunset blinked, loosening her white knuckle grip on the steering wheel.

“Me? Yeah, fine, just a little distracted, that’s all.”

Knowing she probably wouldn’t budge, Twilight elected to accept that answer, moving her attention back to the laptop screen. Just like she thought, the readings thus far had been the same as they were everywhere else. This was already starting to look like a bust.

When Twilight looked over at Sunset again, she was back in that wide-eyed, near-dissociative state. At first, she thought Sunset might be staring off into space—something Twilight found herself doing on occasion—but when she faced the same direction Sunset was looking, she realized what she was probably so transfixed on.

The only thing Twilight had taken into consideration when plotting out this stop was getting as close to the center of the triangle as they could. Not once had she thought about where they were outside of a geographic sense. But in this particular spot, they were only a block away from CHS, the school in clear view through Sunset’s windshield.

Before Twilight could ask how Sunset was feeling again, she looked down. When she saw what was on the laptop’s display screen, her eyes lit up.

“Oh my gosh, Sunset, look!” she exclaimed. “The levels are rising! A lot!”

Sunset snapped out of her trance, leaning over to get a look at Twilight’s laptop. There was a scrolling graph on screen, a box next to it displaying several rows of values all changing rapidly, seemingly all going up.

Not long after their rise, they plateaued. They were still nowhere near as high as when the project first began, but it was the biggest rise Twilight had seen since the spike back in the fall.

“Isn’t this exciting?” beamed Twilight. “This was a great idea! You’re a genius, Sunset!”

Sunset’s brow was tight, almost like she couldn’t believe what she was looking at. A few times, it looked like she was about to say something, but her mouth would slowly close each time. Twilight just figured she didn’t have the proper vocabulary to ask the questions that came to mind, and was too distracted by her excitement to try and assist her.

Unfortunately, just as they had risen, they fell back down to normal levels after just a minute. Twilight felt a pang of disappointment as the line on the graph descended, but she couldn’t be too upset. That was progress, and a reason to keep moving forward with this project she’d nearly deemed a lost cause.

“That’s so weird,” remarked Twilight. “I’ve seen bumps in the graph like that before, but usually they go on for longer. That, and once they’re done, the resting levels are usually a bit higher. This time, it looks like it fell back into the same ambient level as before.”

Twilight wasn’t expecting a thorough response, but at least some kind of acknowledgement from Sunset. When she looked up, her friend was squinting, looking at a strip of buildings on the opposite side of the street from them. Her squint intensified into a glare as three figures walked out of the building.

“What?” Twilight finally asked.

Sunset didn’t answer.

Twilight looked back at the three figures. They didn’t seem to stand out that much to her, but maybe they did to Sunset?

“Do you know them?” she asked.

“No,” Sunset muttered. “No, I don’t.”

This was getting confusing.

“If you don’t know them, why are you looking at them like that?”

Sunset blinked a few times, settling back into the driver’s seat after craning her neck to keep an eye on them.

“No reason,” she said, clearly trying to hide something.

Twilight had so many questions yet again, but Sunset’s intensity in that exchange told her it probably wasn’t a good idea for her to inquire any further. With all those readings taken down, Twilight packed everything away, and the two began their journey back to Twilight’s house.

The only thing Twilight hadn’t packed away before they left was her laptop. She took this opportunity to go over all the readings again. She might have already scanned them multiple times before their last stop, but the random spike in readings inspired her to look a little closer. It didn’t look much different, but it was worth looking for anything she may have missed.

“Oh,” Twilight began. “I forgot to ask this earlier, but my mom wanted to know if you’d like to stay for dinner tonight.”

Sunset didn’t respond.

“Sunset?” Twilight looked away from her laptop screen.

When she saw Sunset’s face, she realized she might have been a little too wrapped up in data. Sunset’s eyes were staring dead ahead, but the color was gone from her face.

Before she had a chance to say anything else, Twilight felt the car nearly swerve onto the shoulder of the road, the vehicle coming to a very sudden stop. Sunset unbuckled her seatbelt, threw the car door open, and stumbled out onto the grass on the side of the street. She bent over, her hands on her knees.

Twilight closed her laptop, practically jumping out of her seat to meet Sunset on the other side of the car.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

Sunset didn’t respond with words. Instead, her body convulsed as she let out an unsettlingly wet retch, a sickening splash of vomit landing in a puddle on the sidewalk.

Moving in to comfort her friend, Twilight placed her palm on Sunset’s back, gently rubbing it in a circle. To her surprise, Sunset swatted her hand away as another surge of vomit escaped from her mouth. She was heaving, but Twilight wasn’t sure what to do. Every time she got close, Sunset would refuse to let her do anything, either flailing her hand to keep her away or creating distance with as many woozy steps as she could manage.

Eventually, Sunset’s breath started to catch up to her. She gagged a few times, looking as though she might throw up even more, but that subsided not long after her breathing stabilized. She spat as she stood up straight, wobbling for a moment before finding balance with her hand on her car.

“Could you grab me some napkins from the center console?” she asked, her voice choked.

Without a word, Twilight made her way to the driver’s side, opening the compartment between the seats and grabbing a handful of brown napkins from inside. Sunset held out her hand as Twilight approached, crumpling them up and dragging them down her face. After that, she let out a long sigh, pressing the napkins into a ball and making her way back to the car.

“Should I call my parents to come get us?” Twilight asked. “I don’t think if you should be driving after that.”

“It’s fine, I’m fine,” Sunset replied.

“You are not fine,” Twilight argued.

“I’m fine.”

“No you're not! You don’t even look fine, and even if you did, pulling over and vomiting isn’t “fine” no matter how many times you try to say it is!”

“It was probably just the milkshake from earlier. Sunset shrugged. “Maybe I’m lactose intolerant or something? I don’t know, but either way, I’m fine.”

Even if that were the case, nothing about Sunset’s demeanor or body language gave Twilight the impression she was being honest. Her face was still pale, her body was shaking, and she still moved around like she was struggling to keep her balance.

“I’m calling my parents,” said Twilight.

“Don’t!”

Twilight was halfway to grabbing her phone when Sunset practically screamed.

“Sunset, I’m not getting in the car with you when you look like you’re about to pass out.”

“But if you call your parents, I guarantee they’re not going to let us do this again.”

Twilight’s brow tightened. “Why wouldn’t they? That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it? This is our first time hanging out. You think they’re not going to be worried something like this will happen every single time we go and do something together from now on?”

This was getting absurd. Twilight couldn’t tell why she was so insistent about this, especially since it sounded like nonsense.

“Sunset, they’ll probably just want to make sure you’re okay. It’s not like they’re going to blame you for getting sick!”

“How do you know that?”

Twilight’s jaw hung open. Despite her reservations over how safe it was to drive while Sunset was in this state, this argument was as aggravating as it was unnecessary. The longer it went on, the worse Sunset could get, and it was clear she wasn’t about to budge on this.

“Ugh, fine,” said Twilight. “I’ll let it go this time, but if you even start looking sick again, I’m making you pull over while I call them.”

Sunset held up her hands. “I promise I’ll be fine. Besides, we’re just a few blocks away from your place anyway.”

Reluctantly, Twilight made her way over to the passenger side. With both doors shut and seat belts buckled, they continued their trip to Twilight’s house. This time, Twilight didn’t take her eyes off Sunset. At first, she was just annoyed. Why was she so stubborn about this? What did she have to gain from this? Was she really worried about what her parents would think, or was she just too prideful to admit she might need help.

But the more she thought about it, the more that irritation faded. After all, Sunset refused to be comforted while she was throwing up. She responded to Twilight rubbing her back as if she were trying to make it worse.

When put next to some of Sunset’s other behaviors, Twilight began to notice a pattern. If Sunset so much as smelled something was wrong, she would try to help in any way she could. Meanwhile, any kind of help in her direction—sympathy, compassion, comfort—would always be met with staunch refusal.

Given the brief glimpse into Sunset’s past Twilight was given, it wasn’t exactly hard to tell why she was like this. But that did nothing to stop Twilight from wondering what specifically happened to make her act in such a way. Regardless of how much life had beaten her down, there was no reason she should have been this resistant to any kind of understanding.

Twilight’s anxiety continued to mount. She just had to know more, but she knew better than to ask questions when Sunset was like this. With that said, Sunset’s absolute refusal to be forthcoming about anything was getting to be a bit much. It was one thing for her to not want sympathy for her past, but none whatsoever? No matter the situation, or context? Twilight couldn’t keep doing things this way. 

She’d put a lot of effort into opening up to Sunset in the short time they’d known each other, and while Sunset had made progress too, things still felt one-sided. There would always be an imbalance in their friendship if Sunset didn’t allow Twilight to do something for her without confrontation first.

As they pulled into the driveway, Twilight finally broke the silence that had sat over them for most of the ride.

“I take it you don’t want to stick around for dinner?”

Sunset’s attention snapped towards Twilight. “Huh? Oh, I’ll stick around if you want me to.”

That surprised Twilight, so much so that it gave her a little extra confidence. “Would you want to stay the night, too, maybe?” She almost couldn’t believe she’d ask something like that, but she knew part of that was motivated by how worried for Sunset she was.

Her heart sank when Sunset’s expression flattened. “I promise I’m not going to go home, keel over and die, if that’s why you’re asking.”

“Well, yes, I am somewhat concerned with your health,” Twilight bashfully replied, “but how can you blame me? You live alone, and if there’s something more wrong than just a bad milkshake, I don’t want you to be alone for that.”

With a chuckle, Sunset looked prepared to shrug it off. “Look, I’ve been through worse while living alone–”

“Like what?” Twilight didn’t even think before she asked. When Sunset frowned, she regretted doing so.

“What is with you?” she asked. “Why do you need to know everything about me?”

“That’s not why I’m asking this time!”

“Then why?”

“Really, Sunset? Do we really have to do this? Again?”

The staring contest that ensued felt like it went on for hours. Eventually, it was Twilight who blinked.

“Look, maybe it’s not my place to say,” said Twilight, “but going at it alone the way you have isn’t good for you.”

“Maybe it’s not,” Sunset replied, “but I’ve made it this far doing things my way, and I’m not about to stop.”

“And why have you done it that way?”

“Because I’m the only one I can rely on.”

“Maybe that was the case at one point, but that’s not true anymore.”

Another staring contest, another loss for Twilight.

“I know we haven’t known each other that long, I know I’m not fully aware of your story, and I know I’m not exactly one to be talking about this, but you don’t have to go it alone anymore. We don’t have to go it alone. We’re friends!”

Sunset remained still for an uncomfortably long amount of time. Eventually she relented, draping herself over the steering wheel of her car and sighing loudly.

“Alright, fine.” Sunset lifted her head. “Let me go grab a change of clothes from my apartment, and I’ll be back.”

“Let me come with you,” Twilight added.

That only seemed to annoy Sunset even more, but with a long groan, she accepted. “Ugh, fine, but you’re not coming in.”

“That’s fine,” she replied. “I’ll keep the car warm.”

Even if she was trying not to show it, Twilight could see the slightest hint of a smile on Sunset’s face. Every day they spent together, the unspoken parts of Sunset’s past became a little clearer. She may not know the details, but one thing was for certain: she wasn’t used to others caring about her.

If Twilight had her way, that was going to change.