cicadas in the summertime

Rarity hadn’t slept with many men—not because there was shame to it, but because it was simply not her interest—but she’d gone to bed with enough of them to feel she’d pretty much experienced it all, seen it all, felt it all. 

Even while still dating Blueblood, she thought she’d pretty much never feel butterflies ever again. That twisting hurricane in her stomach and below, the frenetic beating of a hopeful heart, the dizzying intensity of emotions and thoughts that made it difficult to exist in someone else’s orbit. 

Love was a choice. Attraction wasn’t. 

Never had this been more clear to her—the fact that attraction, visceral and suffocating, was something that happened to you—than that moment, frozen on her bed, the mattress sinking slightly on either side of her, the consequence of a heavenly being—a woman, to be clear—using her hands to support herself over the designer. 

Both were clothed, their bodies restrained inside pajamas, and Rarity couldn’t tell if she was relieved or agonized this was so. It must have been the first, because to imagine such a beautiful creature unclothed would be too much, far, far, far too much. 

And what a heavenly being said creature was, her long dark cascading sapphire hair framing Rarity’s face like a canopy so the only thing she could see were twin pairs of violet eyes as hungry as their owner’s calculated grin. 

It was unlike any man who’d ever looked down at her with similarly hungry eyes. You see, there was affection in these eyes, boundless and overflowing, filling in a hole in Rarity’s chest she’d not known was even there. 

The heavenly body lowered a few inches, so close that Rarity could taste her spearmint breath. Two beautiful lavender wings splayed out from her back, as regal as a swan showing off for its mate. 

“Rarity?” Twilight Sparkle whispered, their lips brushing, and it was when she spoke again that the beseeching tone became commanding. “Say it again.” 

“Oh,” Rarity whispered, her voice so low and needy it sounded entirely alien, her nails digging into the mattress to stop them from grasping Twilight and surely getting burnt, “oh, princess.” 

There are some dreams that take a few hours to recover from. 

Some take a whole day. 

This particular dream took Rarity over a week to even half recover from, made worse by the fact that she was waging a very difficult inner battle. 

“I need time away from Twilight,” she’d told herself days after the party, the phone call with Applejack fresh in her mind, running back and forth like a video reel stuck on repeat. 

Applejack had suggested maybe this was a side of her worth exploring. All of Rarity’s friends were a flavor of queer, so she may not be the token straight after all. 

Rarity had replied that Applejack was insane, that she was not gay, notwithstanding her distaste for being called the token straight, and that clearly her mind was just coping terribly with Blueblood dating again. 

Applejack suggested that maybe she was bisexual. 

Rarity reminded her again she was not gay, and that was not a possibility to be entertained whatsoever, and besides, everyone was just a little bit in love with their friends, anyway. 

To that, Applejack said that people weren’t usually in love with their friends, no. Moreover, it was perfectly okay to be nervous or even afraid about realizing she liked women, and that was the last thing she said because Rarity refused to talk to her since. 

Relatedly, here is a fact of Rarity’s life: 

Rarity was not someone who went with the flow. She had designs and ideas for how things should go, and even when they deviated for the sake of artistry, they all stayed firmly within her expectations. 

Since she was a child, her entire life had been mapped out. She would grow up, study fashion, become a designer, be wildly famous, make beautiful dresses, marry a handsome man, have beautiful children, and then grow old and retire somewhere interesting like a posh mountain village near a castle. 

Being anything other than friends with a robotics student who was somehow healthy and gorgeous despite her steady diet of energy drinks and carbs did not factor into this plan. Coming out to her family did not factor into this plan. Coming out to herself did not factor into this plan. 

Whatever this was was just a fluke. 

“I’m winding myself up,” she told herself, lying on her bed, face over her hands. “That’s what’s happening. I just need to take some time away from her, and I’ll get over whatever the hell is happening to me.”

The next time Twilight asked to hang out, she would say no. She would be firm! She already hadn’t seen her in a few days anyway because Twilight had been busy studying for a project, so it would be trivially easy to prolong their separation. 

It was an hour after this internal monologue that her phone buzzed with a message. She unlocked her phone and was immediately met with her wallpaper: the picture she’d taken at the bar with Twilight. She kept meaning to swap it out. She just kept forgetting. 

💜✨Twilight Sparkle✨💜 – 11:20AM
Hey. Are you busy today? I’ve been stuck in my apartment studying for two days, and I think I should probably have some sort of human interaction, and I would like that to be you.

If you need to do homework, you can set up here.

You – 11:21AM
OMG! Of course! I would love to see you 💖 I miss you terribly, even though we’re one wall apart! 😢

💜✨Twilight Sparkle✨💜 – 11:22AM
Hehe. Great! Come whenever :-]

“Idiot,” Rarity whispered to herself, shoving her books and sketchpads into her backpack. “You didn’t even hesitate. Where’s your conviction? Where’s your resolve? What would Sapphire Shores say if she could see you? You think this is how you’ll get to be her personal designer?”

She was at Twilight’s door a few minutes later, taking a moment to steady herself. Why did she feel nervous? Why was she stressed? It was fine. 

She felt a buzz in her pants pocket.  

💜✨Twilight Sparkle✨💜 – 11:34AM
Just finishing up after a shower. I left the door unlocked. You can just come in. 

You – 11:35AM
Okay!!! 💖

For the briefest of seconds, Rarity imagined Twilight taking a shower, and she murdered the thought as soon as it breathed. 

You’re doing it on purpose. You are winding yourself up on purpose, you are being ridiculous, Rarity! 

She was being dramatic. That had to be it, she was getting high on the high of the forbidden. It wasn’t that she was gay, it was that the idea of it was thrilling, dangerous, complicated. A stupid what-if that she needed to stop entertaining now. 

She had a plan for her life. Whatever was happening to her now did not factor into it, was not something she wanted or was equipped to deal with. 

Applejack’s voice shoved its way into her head, repeating a moment from their phone call.  

“I was plumb terrified when I realized,” she’d said. “You know this, Rares! Don’t you remember havin’ to wait outside my house when I came out to Granny? Thought she was going to kick me to the curb? It’s okay to be afraid. Nothin’ scarier than having to see yourself for the first time.”

She shook her head, dispelling everything. Applejack, Twilight, the dreams, everything. She was here to have a good time with her friend. That was it. That was all. 

She opened the door and stepped in, loudly clearing her throat. “Twilight?” she called out, now closing the door behind her. “It’s me, Rarity!” 

“I’ll be right out!” a voice called from the bathroom. 

“Fab!”

Looking around, she noted the apartment was tidier than normal, not a single can of energy drink lingering. Her workstation, too, looked cleaned up, even if her three monitors were still a mess of open programs and lines of code Rarity could barely parse. 

“Did you bring things to do?” Twilight asked, still in the bathroom, just the sound of her voice twisting Rarity’s stomach in a way she didn’t want to think about. It felt like longing. She refused to name it, but that was what it felt like, if she had to name it at gunpoint. Longing for Twilight’s voice, and her face, and she shoved these thoughts away when Twilight continued. “Hopefully you don’t have too much homework due.”

“I do, unfortunately,” Rarity replied, settling herself on one side of the couch. This was a lie. She was already caught up with everything pressing, but she’d brought along some assignments she could do in advance. Anything to seem busy, occupied, like her life didn’t revolve around trying not to think of the great big feelings surrounding her friend. 

Feelings she had no choice but to think about when, finally, Twilight emerged out from the bathroom in nothing but purple shorts, a black tank-top with the slogan ‘zip ties, hopes, and dreams’, and a towel she was using to dry her damp hair, for once not pulled up into a ponytail or otherwise pinned down. She looked normal. She looked casual. She looked comfortable, half her body exposed, like her long legs, and nice arms. She looked fine, which was fine, so fine, until it wasn’t when Rarity realized she’d been staring when Twilight grinned. 

“I missed you, too, but I should point out it’s rude to stare,” she joked, and then laughed when Rarity turned thirty shades of red. 

“I was reading your shirt!” she protested, which wasn’t untrue. Reading the shirt was definitely included in the staring she’d done. 

Twilight giggled. “I know,” she relented, slinging the towel around her shoulders and heading towards her computer. “I am glad to see you. It feels like it’s been forever. You were so busy after that night at Gal’s, and then I got so busy. Is lo-fi okay? For music, I mean.”

“Yes, I think so,” Rarity replied. She was grateful Twilight didn’t ask questions on why Rarity was so busy. “Anything but that bizarre robot singer music you put on that one time.” 

“I will make a Vocaloid fan out of you yet, don’t you worry,” Twilight threatened before soft lo-fi music wafted through the room. 

“We’ll see about that,” Rarity replied, failing not to giggle when Twilight made an expression of mock-hurt as she strode towards the kitchen area. “Off to get an energy drink?”

“Maybe. I also have that lime seltzer water stuff. Pop-lite. Do you want some?”

Rarity brightened. “Oh, yes please, I love that brand! I didn’t know you liked it, too.”

“I don’t,” Twilight replied, taking out a large bottle of Pop-lite from the fridge. “It’s definitely not my thing. But I noticed you’re always drinking that at your place, so I bought some for you to have here when you come over.”

Rarity’s stomach twisted. It felt like butterflies. 

“That’s very considerate of you. You didn’t have to bother with that.”

“It’s no problem.” She walked over with drinks in hand, offering Rarity one before plopping down right next to the designer on the couch. She peered curiously towards her friend’s backpack, leaning in close enough that Rarity got a whiff of lavender and flashes of her explicit dreams shot into her mind. “So, what’s your homework?”

“Some reading, mostly,” Rarity coughed, horrified at herself, trying to focus. Focus on her hands, and not the image of Twilight’s skin being wet not from a shower but—“There’s a historical element to it, of course, and we’re finally getting on to the first fashion houses, the first professional couturiers.”

“That sounds interesting!” Twilight said, eagerly. She always acted that way when Rarity spoke, like she was genuinely, truly interested. She probably was, and she was probably that way with everyone, but that didn’t stop Rarity from really enjoying it. “Maybe you can read out loud for me?”

Rarity laughed. “Goodness, no. I’m such a slow out-loud reader, we’d be here all night.”

“So?” Twilight asked, like it was nothing. Her lips curled up mischievously, and when she leaned in conspiratorially, there was that whiff of lavender again. Her lips were glossy with chapstick. Did they taste like lavender, too? “It’s not like you live far. You could also stay here. It could be a bedtime story.”

“Don’t be silly,” Rarity chided. She had to stay focused. Not think of sleeping in Twilight’s apartment, in her couch, in her—Stop, Rarity. “Regardless, I also need to do some sketching. It’s important to practice!”

Twilight leaned back. “Sure,” she said, thankfully dropping the subject of sleepovers. 

Rarity hesitated, suddenly, an idea springing to mind. Well, not really an idea, per se, but… an indulgence. “I did some the day after Gal’s actually. Some ideas of dresses you could wear with your wings, or even different designs for the wings themselves.”

Twilight leaned in immediately. “Really?” 

There it was again, that eagerness. 

“Yes!” Rarity reached into her backpack and fetched out her blue sketchbook. She held it against her chest, grinning. “Would you like to see?”

“Yes, please!”

Twilight was on her before Rarity could even react, the already small distance between their bodies disappearing completely as she took the sketchbook and looked the sketches over, gushing at each one. She loved the colors in this one, she was impressed by the linework in that one, and to more than one she noted she would try and implement the actual colors into the next iteration of the wings. 

She sped through the five or six sketches, and when she asked for permission to look at the rest of the sketchbook, Rarity was hard pressed to say no. The entire process started all over again, and the artist wasn’t entirely sure how to feel over anything and everything: just how eager Twilight was, asking dozens of questions, complimenting her designs, seemingly yes-and’ing every idea Rarity presented. 

It felt nice. It felt really nice, and Twilight pressed against her felt nice too in ways Rarity was not going to think about. 

“You’re crazy talented,” Twilight said as she admired the most recent sketches—the wings—tracing her index finger along their edges, as if she was constructing them in her mind. 

“Thank you,” Rarity replied, feeling uncharacteristically bashful. People had looked over her sketchbook before, sure, but never had it felt so strangely intimate. Never had she felt so aware her artistic soul was being observed. She could feel the light blush in her cheeks, the quiet drumming of her heart. “I’m glad you liked them.”

“I do! I really do. These are incredible,” Twilight continued, almost breathlessly so, mesmerized by them. There was an intensity in her voice, in her expression, in her eyes, and some part of Rarity—deep, deep, so deep—knew that if that intensity was directed not towards the art but toward the artist, it would be too much and not enough. And then it was that and more all at once when Twilight said, almost absently, almost a whisper, “You’re incredible.” 

There are moments one cannot avoid. Things one is aware exist but one has pointedly not acknowledged, unaware that to avoid is to acknowledge. 

No sooner had Twilight said that, her eyes widened and she immediately added, “As an artist, I mean. You’re an incredible artist.” She closed the sketchbook, quickly handed it over, and Rarity could not avoid noticing the color in Twilight’s cheeks, nor could she avoid noticing how pointedly her friend was avoiding looking at her. “Super talented.” 

“Thank you, really,” Rarity replied, opening the sketchbook again if only so she had something to look at, to think about, to direct her thoughts at because Rarity was no amateur at reading someone, and she was well aware of what she’d just read on Twilight. 

“Sure.” 

“Would you like me to send pictures of them to you?” 

“Oh. Yes, please, actually!” Twilight looked at her now, clearly grateful whatever happened had gone unspoken. “In fact, would you mind sending them to the club e-mail? I think Sunset would really like them, too.” 

“Oh, certainly, of course.”

She took out her phone in front of Twilight, intending on adding the e-mail to her friend’s contact information, only to remember too late that their picture together was her wallpaper. 

“Wait,” Twilight said, quite still, “that’s our picture? You have that as your wallpaper?”

“Ah, yes.” Rarity felt that came out nonchalantly enough, so she didn’t know why she felt embarrassed, or why she wished she could jump out the window. She cleared her throat and smiled a little too widely. “Yes! It’s such a nice picture, after all. And the right size for the phone. I really like it.”

Twilight said nothing. She simply stared at the picture with that intensity that was intoxicating and terrifying in equal measure. 

“Don’t you like it?” Rarity prodded, nervously. 

“Don’t I like it?” Twilight leaned back a little. “Well. Wait one sec.” 

And then she stood up without another word, the beautifully strange woman that she was, walking over to her computer and its three busy monitors. 

“…Waiting,” Rarity said. 

Twilight ignored her, instead tapping on her keyboard so one of her monitors changed. The left-most one, positioned so it was vertical rather than horizontal, had all its programs minimized, tucked away, and all that was left was a larger version of a familiar picture of two grinning women happy to be with each other. 

“Here,” Twilight said, the calculated grin exactly the same as the one Princess Twilight Sparkle wore in Rarity’s shameless dreams, right before she’d command her desperately loyal subject, “does this answer your question?”

Rarity stared at the wallpaper. Then at Twilight.

And then at the unavoidable now finally materializing before her in a way she could no longer avoid.

Oh, she thought. Oh no. 

Twi – 11:43PM
Applejack, let me know when you’re available. It’s kind of urgent.

You – 11:50PM
I’m here. Everything alright?

Twi – 11:51PM
Yes. I need to ask you something serious.

You – 11:52PM
I thought you said everything was alright….

Twi – 11:52PM
Are you sure Rarity is straight? Because I’m starting to think she isn’t.
 

Twi – 11:57PM

Great, thank you. That’s all the confirmation I needed. 

You – 11:57PM
Confirmation? What confirmation? I didn’t say anything yet!!

Twi – 11:58PM
You taking more than five minutes to reply was answer enough.

You – 11:58PM
Twilight, now, wait, she’s still figuring things out.

Twi – 11:59PM
Don’t worry, you know I really enjoy helping. Have a great night, AJ! :-]