heard you like magic

Blending in a crowd of costumed people outside the club, Applejack waved at Rarity from within the constraints of her full suit of knight armor (sans visor).

“Rarity!”

Rarity wasted no time rushing towards her, past a group of drunken pirates flirting with aliens, and when Applejack opened her arms for a comforting hug, she was grateful to fall into them.

“Oh, thank God you were here,” she sniffled, the affectionate, tight hug enough to break down the wall she’d built on the walk there. “He texted me! To say he saw me!”

“Eeyup. Sounds like him,” Applejack muttered, rubbing her friend’s back. Rarity didn’t have to see her face to imagine the expression on it. “Numbskull.” When Rarity pulled back, her eyes wet with tears, Applejack rubbed her friend’s arm with a gauntlet. “Now don’t let him get to you.”

“Hah! Too late for that,” Rarity replied, wiping her eyes. She then finally took in her friend’s get-up, her interest in fashion momentarily overtaking her anger at her ex. “You look great. Can I convince you to find Blueblood and duel him?”

Applejack barked with laughter. “Find him? I can barely move in this thing already. Big Mac has a bet going that I won’t last the night without kissin’ the ground.” She frowned lightly. “Think there’s extra money if it happens when I’m on stage.”

“Stage? What are you actually doing? I’m all for costuming, but isn’t Nightmare Night a little far off still?”

“It’s fundraiser month!” Applejack exclaimed. “Gal—the owner of the club—holds a whole bunch of fundraisin’ events every four months, and today’s the costume competition. The funds are going towards that children’s hospital near my place.”

“Oh! That’s nice. I had no idea. Are you competing, then?”

Applejack’s eyes went wide. “Me? No, ma’am. Costumes are not my idea of a fun time, you know that. Only reason I have this one is because Gal found it for me. I’m just helpin’ with organizin’. Speakin’ of—” She made a move towards the door. “Let’s find you a place to sit. I’m going to have to skedaddle in a minute to help with the show.”

She followed her friend into the nightclub, the occasional sharp pang arresting her heart at the sight of so many couples—women dancing in their girlfriend’s arms, men flirting with boyfriends over drinks. It wasn’t as if she’d… expected anything to be different in a gay bar, but she was surprised that she felt stung by them. Would this be her experience wherever she went? She used to roll her eyes at friends who whined about clubs being ‘single-awareness groups,’ and now she was gutted to find that she was starting to relate.

Maybe she should join a book club. People didn’t make out with other people at book club.

“Here,” Applejack said once they’d reached the bar, gesturing towards an empty seat. “Why don’t you sit here for now? You have a nice view of the stage an’ everything for when the competition starts.” As soon as Rarity sat down, Applejack leaned over the counter, waving at the bartender ways away, her armor clanking as she did so. “Topsy! Can you get my friend here some water? Thanks!” She turned back towards Rarity. “So, listen, I hafta see—”

“Applejack!”

Rarity looked around and saw a woman running towards them, dressed in a slender, form-fitting blue-toned princess costume, her yellow-streaked red hair held back with a golden tiara. She was holding an expensive-looking camera in her hand. She also wasn’t anyone Rarity recognized, especially considering she was sure she’d remember ever meeting anyone so gorgeous.

“Sunset!” Applejack called back, moving away from Rarity. “Did ya get your thingamajiggers workin’?”

“Yeah, finally. It was an issue with the coding. I had to run to my apartment to get my laptop before someone lost their mind, but we got it working now.”

Applejack sighed, relieved. “Good! Woulda been pretty bad if our biggest pull stopped workin’ in front of everyone.” She gestured to the camera, which Sunset handed. “This for the video you want me to take? Just remember I ain’t no Hollywood director.”

“We don’t need anything incredible, AJ,” Sunset said, grinning. “Just make sure you get both of us in frame when they’re on.” When Applejack nodded, she stepped back. “Okay, I’m off, then. We’re about to start.” She sped off afterwards without another word.

“Alright, sugarcube, I have to go,” Applejack said next, reaching over and giving Rarity’s shoulder a tight squeeze. “You’ll be okay until I’m back?”

Rarity smiled, grateful. “Yes, I think so. Thank you for being here, darling.” She fluttered her eyelashes. “My knight in shining armor! What would I do without you?”

Applejack shrugged. “Be sulkin’ at home, I reckon! Anyhoo, try to have a good time.”

“I will. Who knows!” She batted her eyelashes. “Maybe a dashing gentlewoman will try to take me home with her tonight. A steamy one-night stand.”

It should be said that Rarity was not one for one-night stands, without exception. Not even for her favorite movie star. However, that still didn’t stop her from huffing with great offense when Applejack snorted.

“Not with them long nails, they won’t,” she said.

“What? What does that have—Why wouldn’t they?” Rarity called back, and called again when Applejack simply marched off, grinning. “What’s wrong with my nails?!”

Well, fine. She didn’t even want to know about the mysterious gay ways. Maybe it was just an Applejack thing. It probably was. There were probably dozens of gay women who would be enchanted by her perfectly manicured long nails.

Blueblood used to like them.

And just like that, her night soured again.

Great.

Maybe she ought to order a drink to forget him. But ordering a drink carried the risk of having the opposite happen, and considering what had happened earlier, did she really want to risk it? She’d kept no contact for almost three months now; even if telling him off might feel good in the moment, she’d never forgive herself if a night of drinking reset that counter.

She fished her phone out of her bag again, idly opening up her text conversation with Twilight yet again. No new messages, obviously. She’d have to think of something to do tomorrow. Maybe coffee? Or a movie? Or, honestly, maybe lounging about in Twilight’s apartment, talking. They didn’t really have to have an activity.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a woman’s voice filling the room, and she turned around to find an older mermaid on stage, animatedly waving a notebook. Apparently, judging on the contest was done, and the winners would be announced after a short presentation.

She wanted to care. She felt like she ought to care. But she couldn’t bring herself to care, instead turning back towards the bar, listlessly examining the bottles just out of reach. There would be no robotics major saving her tonight, would there? And no man to distract her, either.

Her eyes went to her phone again, her fingernails rapping on the cold counter. She could just call Twilight. She could just ask. ‘What event are you at? Can I go? I’m charming, and polite, and horrifically sober. I know we’ve only known each other a few months, but surely watching PowerPonies: The Comic: The Movie: The Musical at two in the morning together was as bonding as any blood oath, no?’

“Screw it,” she whispered, snatching the phone up, unlocking it and calling a number as quickly as its owner had claimed a spot on speed-dial. She held it against her ear, her forehead resting against her fist, eyes closed as it rang. Please, she thought, please pick up.

Twilight’s voice kicked in after the ninth ring, rattling a perfunctory voicemail greeting. You’ve reached Twilight Sparkle. I am currently unavailable having a good time somewhere else. Leave a message after three beeps long enough for you to wish you’d gone home, Ra-ri-ty.

Tears burned at her eyes. Oh, but she was just a silly little girl, wasn’t she? Pathetic, alone, stupid, not even bothering to hang up, listening to Twilight’s automated message just in case, just in case—

“Twilight!” she exclaimed when the third beep died, her face in her hands, her heart in her stomach, her pride soaking in spilled drinks on the floor. It was so good that she was great at lying. “Sorry for calling so late, but I just couldn’t wait to tell you about tomorrow! I think we should go see a movie. Thought of it just now. You pick which!”

She kept the phone against her ear long after the call had ended. Eons, it felt like.

Stupid, stupid, Rarity.

Somewhere in the distance, on loudspeakers that felt right next to her and miles away at once, stupid people having stupid good times made stupid announcements to a crowd of stupid people clapping stupidly.

“I’m Princess Sunset Shimmer!” exclaimed a woman, delight in her voice, moments before Rarity’s eyes flew open and her heart stopped when a second voice, less delighted and more matter-of-fact, continued, “and I’m Princess Twilight Sparkle.”

…Twilight?

Rarity practically fell off her chair turning around towards the stage, upon which she was greeted with the aforementioned princesses. On the left was Sunset Shimmer—the woman from earlier—her grin and general aura exuding a proprietary air over the whole entire world. And on the right, well…

This was not the Twilight Sparkle Rarity was familiar with, one who had a collection of identical jeans and hoodies in rotating colors. This wasn’t even the Twilight Sparkle Rarity had met at that same bar months ago, dressed in black corduroy pants and a nice purple shirt. This Twilight Sparkle, dressed in a form-fitting lavender dress with matching silver tiara, looked every inch what Rarity thought she might if she ever convinced her to go dress shopping with her.

She was gorgeous.

They both were, the two of them dripping with a je ne sais quoi of cool and mystique, aided by the segmented gloves they wore, glowing wires protruding from them and wrapping around their arms, attached to something strapped to their backs.

“As most of you know,” Sunset began, Rarity immediately recording their presentation with her phone, “Twilight and I are the co-presidents of the Amateur Roboticists Community — not at all named to make the acronym ARC, of course.”

“Of course,” Twilight added.

“And every year, the university allows us to donate a prize to be raffled at the end of the month to everyone who donated or contributed to a charitable cause.”

“Last year, for example,” Twilight said, “we gave away a custom 3D LED holographic fan.”

“Which, by the way, was valued at way more money than a university should be giving two students who regularly ask for forgiveness, not permission.”

Even from so far away, Rarity was amused to see Twilight raise her eyebrow. “Two students? No, that’s just you,” she pointed out, breaking into a smile when the crowd laughed. “Anyway, this year, we want to incentivize more donations, so we’ve upgraded our contribution to the prize pool.”

Just as soon as her sentence was over, she and Sunset exchanged a glance, a quick nod, and then a grin as they extended their arms, Rarity and practically the rest of the bar gasping when beautiful multicolored glowing wings suddenly unfurled from their backs. More gasps followed when the women moved their arms in different directions, the wings perfectly mimicking their every movement.

“A custom-made triple-layered articulated light-up wing,” Sunset began, beaming, “using custom-engraved acrylic sheets and a battery-powered LED hub, fully customizable.”

“And not too heavy,” Twilight continued, turning around to display the backpack housing her wings. “We’re even working on a speaker integration to play music, too.”

Rarity recorded her, mesmerized as Twilight continued to show off her wings, circling them through a variety of colors and settings. She hadn’t mentioned she was working on something as incredible as that! Why wouldn’t she mention it? Or that she’d be showing it off!

“Don’t forget!” Sunset finished, their presentation apparently over as the women made a gesture with their hands and the wings furled back behind them. “The more you donate to the fundraiser, the more raffle tickets you get, the better your chances of having your own wings!”

“Thank you, everyone, and good luck with the contest,” Twilight said after, and Rarity felt more than a little melancholic when she saw Twilight follow Sunset off stage, a crowd of people immediately surrounding them.

She briefly mulled over doing the same, but the idea of fighting for Twilight’s attention wasn’t all that appealing. She could wait until the crowd died down, couldn’t she? Or… she could have Twilight come to her.

She turned to her phone, scrolled through the video she had taken, and took a screenshot of Twilight looking fabulously cool. She then opened her text message chain, sent the screenshot, and followed it up with a message.

You – 11:17PM
Oooooh, Princess 👸🧚✨

There, she thought, pleased, locking the phone and putting it on the table. Now Twilight would see it when she had a moment free of the crowd. That said, she turned her attention towards the bartender, debating that drink once again. It would probably be fine, wouldn’t it? Twilight and Applejack were here, and—

Her phone buzzed. Then again and again in quick succession, and when she took it and saw the notifications, she grinned victoriously. Well, well, well, she thought, opening up the messaging app.

💜✨Twilight Sparkle✨💜 – 11:20PM
Wait, what?

💜✨Twilight Sparkle✨💜 – 11:20PM
How did you get that? Applejack said you were clubbing with friends.

💜✨Twilight Sparkle✨💜 – 11:20PM
Did she send you that???

Stiffling a giggle, Rarity opened the camera app, took a very delightful selfie with her glass of water, and sent it over immediately.

You – 11:23PM
All photo credit goes to yours truly, darling. 😉

💜✨Twilight Sparkle✨💜 – 11:23PM
Don’t move.

That settled it.

She spun around towards the bar, flagged the bartender down, and ordered a lemondrop—sweet and sour felt appropriate for the night. The bartender had perfect timing, giving her the drink just in time for her to spin around again, see Twilight walking over, and take a sip to hide her silly grin.

“Rarity!” Twilight exclaimed, her wings still strapped to her back. Even though she was just a bit winded, she still looked very pretty, her light makeup more noticeable now that Rarity could actually see it.

“Your highness,” Rarity greeted, bowing her head lightly, and giggling when Twilight rolled her eyes. “How fare thou this fine summer eve? And with such impressive wings!” She twirled her index finger. “Let us poor peasants have a better look.”

“I—Okay.” Twilight obliged her friend by turning around and activating her appendages, the wings splaying out and drawing the attention of several patrons. “What are you doing here?” she asked over her shoulder. “Applejack said you were at Ultra.”

“I was,” Rarity replied, putting her drink down and standing up to admire the wings. They really were pretty. She’d no idea Twilight had been working on something like them. Or that she’d be presenting them at an event. “Unfortunately, my ex was too.”

“…Ah.”

“These are incredible, Twilight,” Rarity continued, not wanting to dwell on him. She sat back down just as the other woman turned around, the wings folding behind her. She could tell the lemondrop was starting to affect her, if anything because she confessed, “I’m sad I almost missed this. Why didn’t you tell me this was the ‘event’ you were going to?”

“Oh, I—I didn’t think you’d want to come. This is a gay club. You’re not exactly interested in the people here.”

Rarity frowned. “I’m interested in you, though,” she pointed out. No sooner had she done so, however, than she felt strangely vulnerable, which she didn’t particularly like. She hated feeling needy, and it didn’t help that Twilight’s expression was suddenly a little intense. Was she being too much? “And, besides,” she continued quickly, because she was not needy, “what does it matter if it’s a gay club? I assume people who come here don’t come here just to hook up.”

Twilight grimaced. “Well…”

“Really? Goodness.” She took a sip of her drink. “Maybe the gays and the straights aren’t so different after all.”

“Maybe not,” Twilight grinned.

“Except not a single girl has flirted with me! Can you believe it? Applejack said it’s because I have long nails.” She hadn’t even finished her sentence before Twilight snorted loudly. “What? Why are you laughing? What do lesbians have against long nails?”

Twilight cleared her throat, clearly trying to compose herself. “Let’s just say that, in the context of a hookup, perfectly manicured long nails make taking care of the other woman a little difficult? Long nails can be, uh, sharp when it comes to sensitive areas.”

Rarity blinked. “In the context of a—Oh. Oh.” She was not picturing it. She was not picturing it. Well, now she was. Now she really was picturing it, and something about it felt off. Not off-putting, just off. She took a sip of her lemondrop, feeling very self-conscious of her long nails. “I see what you mean.”

Thankfully, Twilight was already on the next thing.

“Are you going to—”

“Twilight!”

The other princess—Sunset, was it?—was rushing over, her furled wings rattling.

“Hey, why’d you run off?” Sunset asked, crossing her arms. “We said we’d give Gal a second demo of the wings.” Before Twilight could even answer, Sunset finally noticed Rarity as the latter waved politely. “Oh! Hey.”

“Hello! You must be Princess Sunset Shimmer.”

“Sunset,” Twilight quickly cut in, “this is Rarity, my neighbor.”

Rarity deflated at that. The neighbor? Well! Well, all right. Several months in and she was still the neighbor. Fine, then. Made sense. Neighbors weren’t invited to events after—

Don’t, she scolded herself. Don’t be petty.

“The neighbor?” Sunset asked, and then her eyes widened. “Oh, wait, the neighbor! Hi, it’s nice to meet you!”

“Likewise,” Rarity replied politely, burying her hurt six feet under. “Your presentation was incredible. I’m studying fashion design, and even though I’m not one for technology, you just might have inspired me.”

“Really?” Twilight asked, excited. “What were you—“

“Twilight.” Sunset cleared her throat politely. “Sorry, but… Gal. Demo. Please. This could be big for us if she agrees to our proposal.”

“But…” Twilight’s eyes flitted towards Rarity and then back to Sunset. “Can you handle it without me?”

“What? No, Twilight. We’re partners.” Rarity thought nothing of it until Sunset took Twilight’s hands in hers, interlacing their fingers. “We do this together.”

Oh!

“…All right,” Twilight said, her tone softening, affection coloring her expression. She squeezed Sunset’s hand back. “Partners.”

Oh.

“Sorry to steal her, Rarity, but our already limited funding is on the line,” Sunset said suddenly, and her smile was friendly and genuine. Twilight had never mentioned she had a girlfriend? Just like she’d never mentioned the wings before. She really was just the neighbor, like she was just the ex. “I’ll bring her back right after.”

“Take your time,” Rarity replied, trying to be pleasant. She did not care. It did not hurt. This night was going just fine. She was not going to have a pity party. “Duty calls and all that!”

Her voice broke just a little.

Twilight’s brow furrowed. “Rari—“ But her sentence became a yelp as Sunset dragged her away, the two women losing themselves in the crowd.

There was nothing sweet left in her lemon drop when she downed it in one go.

Don’t be stupid, Rarity, she thought, face buried in her hands. They could have meant it literally. It was perfectly possible that Twilight hadn’t been hiding a secret girlfriend for months, and that was in fact the most sensible thing.

Unless she had been. Unless it was so evident that Rarity was still so broken up over her ex that Twilight felt like she had to hide a whole person from—

Her neighbor.

Stupid. Stupid! There she went again, being sensitive over everything, weeping over everything, being dramatic over everything, her emotions splattering all over the place like an overwrought, overwhelming tidal wave.

You’re too much, darling, he’d said to her after a particularly terrible fight. The world isn’t a stage, and you’re not a drama actress. You’re not a child, stop crying like one. You need to be an adult.

What she needed to do was go home. She wanted it to be tomorrow. Tomorrow wouldn’t be so godawful.

She didn’t bother to wait for her change. She’d probably left enough money to cover two drinks, but who cared?

She did, apparently, stepping out of the club and into the freezing air, texting Applejack something about going home before wandering off towards a freezing bench.

She sat there, horrified by herself and the world and everything in between.

Why did she care so much? Why did it hurt so much? Twilight, and Blueblood, and everything else in between.

Of course, she knew. Blueblood hurt because she’d loved him, and Twilight hurt because… because it was nice to have someone who felt just hers. Away from her issues, away from her life, a little bubble where she felt understood, and she could understand in return.

I really am a child, she thought, humiliated, grappling with the fact that she was jealous and possessive and crying over her… her neighbor. She’d thought herself special, with their little wall-knocking system, and movie nights, and daily texting, and—

And it burned like seven hells to realize she wasn’t really all that special at all, was she?

Why hadn’t Twilight mentioned the wings? Was it because Rarity didn’t ask? Was she just a bad friend?

Her phone buzzed with a call she did not want to answer. A quick glance at the screen revealed Applejack’s smiling face, occasionally obscured by notifications displaying a cartoon robot avatar asking things like ‘Where did you go?’ and ‘Applejack says you left?’ and ‘How are you getting home?’

She ignored them. She then felt bad about ignoring them. She felt bad about everything! Why couldn’t they be bad friends and let her wander off alone to be in her feelings? Why did they have to be good friends? If she wasn’t so miserable in any which way you asked, she might have made a joke about how she ought to make up her damn min—

“Rarity!”

Once upon a time, Rarity had nearly destroyed a friendship over Mafia thanks to her sublime poker face skills. She thought of that moment as she stood up straight and looked around to find Twilight—of course it would be Twilight—rushing over, those stupid wings still strapped to her back. Wasn’t she tired? And weren’t they a liability?

No matter. She was fine. She was perfectly delightful.

“Twilight!” she replied, pleasant and polite. “Hello.”

“What’s going on?” Twilight asked, which was a perfectly acceptable inquiry if one assumed Applejack had shown her Rarity’s last text message (‘I’m leaving! Everything is fine. Have a wonderful night! 👍’; she might as well have written ‘I’m storming out! Everything is not fine. Come after me, but if you come after me, you will NOT be hearing the end of it! 👍’). “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” Rarity said, controlled. She just wanted to sober up enough to go home. Please. “I just want to go home, that’s all.”

“What’s wrong?” Twilight pressed, pushing buttons she really shouldn’t be pressing.

“Nothing is wrong, Twilight,” Rarity insisted, still controlled, irritation building up. But she was not going to lose her temper with Twilight. She wouldn’t, she refused. She had to be better than that. “Really. I’m calling a cab in a minute.”

“Fine,” Twilight said, and for a moment, Rarity thought she’d be leaving unscathed, until Twilight continued, because, of course, she would. “I’ll get my stuff and go with you. You were drinking, right?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Rarity said, on the edge of harsh. “I’m practically sober. I couldn’t stand being a nuisance to you more than I already am. Please—” She gestured to the club. “Go. I’ll text you when I’m home.”

“More than you already are?” If Twilight’s expression before had been just concerned, it was triple so now. “I don’t think you’re a nuisance. Why would you—What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, Twilight, really,” Rarity insisted, looking away, at anything but her, tapping away at her phone’s stupid ridesharing app. Everything was booked, nothing free for fifteen minutes. She was still controlled. She was still polite. Please, she was still being nice. “I’m fine.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not.” It came out hissed, her nails digging against her phone case, just begging to snap. It would hurt. It would hurt so much, but it would feel so good. “Stop telling me there’s something wrong.”

“But there is.” Her tone was firm but not angry.

Rarity’s own tone dropped as low as the temperature around them. “You don’t know me, Twilight.”

Shut up, a voice screeched inside her. Shut up, shut up, you can still come back from this if you just shut your mouth!

“Yes, I do,” Twilight replied, crossing her arms. “You’re my friend.”

“Friend? I’m not your friend, Twilight, I’m your neighbor,” Rarity snapped. “Get it right.”

And there it was, spewed out like venom and regretted just as fast. It didn’t even feel good to say, no catharsis or satisfaction.

Twilight said nothing. The concern vanished, and the furrowed eyebrows remained, violet eyes widening just that little bit wider. It was when she uncrossed her arms that Rarity couldn’t bear looking any longer, turning instead to her phone and the screen blurry with tears.

Ohhh, I hope you’re happy now, Ra-ri-ty.

“Right,” said Twilight, and nothing else.

“I’m sorry.” She still didn’t dare look at Twilight. Just at the phone and the damning fifteen minute wait for a cab. Even if she called it, it would be fifteen minutes of hell. “I didn’t mean that, I’m just—I’ve had a long day, and I’m not handling the situation with my ex well, and—”

A ringtone cut her off—some sort of electronic, ancient-sounding melody like from an arcade machine Rarity played as a child. She froze and watched in the corner of her eye as Twilight looked at her phone screen. A split-second passed, and when Twilight stepped to the side and answered the call without another word to Rarity, she wished the earth would swallow her whole.

“Hey,” Twilight answered, voice level. “Yeah, I found her. She’s fine—Well. She’s not fine, but she’s fine physically. No, stay with Gal, you don’t need to come. No, I’m helping her.” She caught Rarity’s gaze for the split second Rarity watched her. When she spoke again, her voice was slightly louder. “She’s my friend, and besides, she’s sent me so many reels, I’m pretty sure I have a good grasp on what cheers her up now, and it’s cheesy reels. See,” she added, catching the teensiest of smiles on Rarity’s lips, “it’s working already. Go help Gal, I’ll call you when it’s solved.”

When she hung up, she stepped back towards Rarity.

“God, I really am sorry, Twilight,” Rarity insisted, forcing herself to look at her friend. “I’m just—I’m sorry.”

Twilight nodded. “I forgive you. And I’m sorry, too,” she said, tone still level. “I didn’t mean to be hurtful when I called you my neighbor.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Rarity said, ashamed. “You did nothing wrong.”

“I know, but it still hurt you, and I don’t want that,” Twilight replied. “I’ve mentioned you a lot to my friend, so identifying you as my neighbor was the fastest reference point.”

“Ah.” She felt her cheeks darken, embarrassed at just how many assumptions she’d made, but also just a little bit pleased with the idea that Twilight spoke of her often.

Maneuvering carefully with her wings, Twilight moved forward and sat down next to Rarity, placing a hand on her knee. “I’m sorry you’re having a bad night.”

Rarity smiled weakly. “It’s perfectly fine. I’ll live.”

“Right… Well, look, I’ll stop asking if you really don’t want to, but are you sure you don’t want company going home? You haven’t ordered the cab yet, right?”

“No.” Rarity sighed. “I don’t know if I even want to go home.” She locked her phone and faced herself in the black mirror. “I’d just go home and cry, but… I can’t exactly go back to Ultra, and after my meltdown here, I’d be mortified to go back in there.”

“No one saw your ‘meltdown’,” Twilight noted, gently. “Sunset was hoping to talk to you, actually.” Rarity’s knee felt cold when Twilight took back her hand. “I think you’d get along! She’s just like me, except she’s also nothing like me.”

“She seemed nice,” Rarity replied, genuinely at first, and then genuinely embarrassed later. “I wish I hadn’t… I wish I’d met her under different circumstances. I didn’t even know you had a girlfriend.”

There came a long pause, Twilight looking at her curiously.

“You wouldn’t.”

“…How so?” Rarity asked, lightly. She wasn’t going to be upset by this. She swore. “Because you’re very private?”

“Well, yes. I am very private, I don’t trust computers with my personal life, let alone people,” Twilight conceded severely. “But, in this case, it’s less because I’m private and more because—” She raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t even know Sunset was my girlfriend.”

“…What? But she is,” Rarity blurted out. “…Isn’t she?”

“Is she? Again, I didn’t know she was. I don’t think she knows, either!” She frowned, rubbing her chin thoughtfully. “I mean, unless the breakup we had when we were fourteen didn’t count as an official breakup?”

“But—! But she said you’re partners!” Rarity protested, and felt her cheeks grow hot when Twilight blinked once, twice, thrice and then snorted, hard.

“…Rarity.” She leaned forward, what seemed to be her attempts to be sympathetic buckling under her sheer delight at Rarity’s conclusions. “Club partners. Business partners. Partners in the definition of the word sense partners. Best friends partners.”

“Well, what did you want me to think?” Rarity playfully batted at Twilight’s shoulder, embarrassed. “Isn’t that what you gays call each other?! I was trying to be respectful! Or inclusive, or whatever the term is, I don’t—Maybe you should have picked a better word for it! Significant other is RIGHT. THERE!”

“You’re right, it wasn’t the most thought-out term,” Twilight humored, giggling. “Maybe we should consider giving it back to the cowboys.”

“Maybe you should! And you—” She felt a light blush color her cheeks. “You held hands, too. Really, what did you want me to think?”

“…Why would holding hands mean anything?” Twilight asked, looking absolutely fascinated. “Don’t you hold hands with your friends?”

“Well. Yes.” When Twilight leaned back, her silly little eyebrow still raised, Rarity continued her hopeless defense, “But that’s not the same! If I were seen holding hands with a man, anyone would assume we’d be dating! I would, too. And since you’re lesbians, then obviously it means—” She petered off the more Twilight’s grin grew; her cheeks inflated from indignation.

“It means what?” Twilight asked innocently. “Lesbians can’t platonically hold women’s hands? Or what?”

“Stop that! You know exactly what I meant!” Rarity whined, laughing despite herself. Or perhaps because she wanted, feeling the godawful horrors of the night ebbing away in favor of one of her favorite people’s company. “Why are you teasing me so?”

“I’m just asking questions.”

“Right. Questions,” Rarity muttered loudly, giggling and watching as Twilight leaned back a little, a nearby streetlight illuminating her face. She looked so relaxed, so at ease, more so than back at the bar. It was a steadying sight. “I’m glad you came looking for me.” She reached out and grasped Twilight’s hand. “I’m lucky to have you.”

Twilight smiled softly for a fraction of a second before looking down at their intertwined hands, then back to Rarity, then back to the hands, and when she looked at Rarity again, she noted, “Rarity, how forward of you.”

It was hard to say what came first: Rarity snatching her hand away, or her cheeks burning up. “Will you stop!”

Twilight’s smirked reply was interrupted before it began when her cellphone rang, Applejack’s name displayed on screen.

Rarity smiled affectionately. “She worries too much about me,” she said, half-apologetic.

“You’re worth worrying about,” Twilight noted absent-mindedly, missing Rarity’s flattered expression as she took the call. “Hello. Yes, we—Yes, still outside. She’s doing fine. Uh-huh. No, I—I don’t know if she’s staying—” Twilight caught Rarity’s gaze, raising an eyebrow inquisitively. When Rarity nodded quickly, the designer couldn’t help but return her friend’s winning grin. “Wait, it looks like she’s staying after all.”

As soon as she hung up, Twilight got up and then turned towards Rarity, her hand outstretched. “Come on, I’ll walk you back in.”

“Why, Miss Sparkle, now who’s being forward?” Rarity giggled, taking Twilight’s hand. Her skin was soft and warm, and her grip was firm as she pulled the other woman up. “Just because you got and lost a girlfriend in the space of ten minutes doesn’t mean you should rebound so fast. Haven’t you heard that’s bad?”

Twilight hummed. “Technically speaking, in this scenario, considering your situation with your ex, we’d both be each other’s rebounds,” she noted, leading Rarity back towards the club, hands still intertwined.

She fluttered her eyelashes. “So the bad cancels out?”

“Sure,” Twilight laughed. “It cancels out.”

There is something indescribably comforting about having your hand held when the world feels as if it’s falling apart around you. Rarity thought so, at the very least, as her time at the club extended long into the night, Twilight and her wings guiding her like a lantern, creating the smallest of alcoves for Rarity to shelter in.

They’d ended up near the bar again, and as a whole cast of characters approached them in turn—Applejack, Sunset, and more of Twilight’s friends—not once did Twilight let go of Rarity’s hand. And it was warm. And it was comforting. And in that moment, it was so nice to feel so included, wanted close, looked after, anchored to a reality that seemed to say more and more that she would be okay.

No one cared, either. No one noticed, or pointed it out, except for Sunset, who cracked a joke about fidget toys when she saw Twilight idly twisting and playing with Rarity’s rings. Even Applejack didn’t seem to care, noticing briefly but not commenting on the fact.

For a brief moment, she wondered what Blueblood would say if he saw, but she then found that she didn’t care. She didn’t care what he thought. She just cared that she had friends, a place where she belonged, and someone to hold her hand.

Until it stopped.

Right around the time Applejack and Sunset Shimmer were telling Rarity about a trip their friend group was planning, Twilight excused herself to go check on something, and when she returned minutes later, Rarity’s hand was left cold.

Which was fine.

She wasn’t a child; she didn’t need to have her hand held! But, then, why did she feel so unmoored? Adrift and restless, so aware of her hand itching against her sides while the others talked. It happened so fast, went from nothing to everything, her thoughts suddenly consumed by Twilight not resuming the gesture.

Am I really that lonely? That a friend letting go of her hand was so destabilizing? Was she really that starved for affection?

She glanced down and noticed Twilight kept fidgeting with her own hand, clenching and unclenching it. Restless, just like Rarity’s own. Or, maybe that’s just how she was, and Twilight had simply not held her hand again because why on Earth would she?

Oh, who cares? she thought. Who cares, who cares, who cares?

“Twilight,” she whispered, and when her friend turned to look, she reached for her hand, fingers interlacing where they belonged. “Thank you. I feel so much better.”

“I’m glad.” She squeezed Rarity’s hand back. “And I’m glad you stayed.”

It wasn’t until about three in the morning that Rarity finally collapsed on her bed, tired but happy, she and Twilight having walked home together.

Snug under the covers, sleep nearly taking over, she blinked at her phone, clearing away notifications, then tapping into PictoGram and looking at the most recent upload: a selfie of her and Twilight they’d taken before leaving the club. Rarity had wanted a picture of the wings, so there was Twilight, hugging her from behind, multicolored wings extended, one arm and hand wrapped over Rarity’s chest while the other hand did a victory sign; and there was Rarity, wrapped in her arms, her grin matching Twilight’s.

We’re so cute, she thought, pleased.

The post had already acquired a fair number of likes and comments—as expected—but any serotonin they gave her died the second she saw Blueblood amongst them.

@BluebloodV commented (12:45AM):
Glad you’re doing better.

Her first instinct was, of course, to be furious. How dare he even look at her selfie with Twilight? Her second instinct, unfortunately, was to accept she had no one to blame but herself. If she just blocked him—off PictoGram, off her phone, off her life—but there she was, anyway, ever the masochist. Had he uploaded pictures of his evening, too? He probably had. That would be so very like him, knowing full well she would eventually click into his profile like she was about—

Ping!

@TachyonStar commented (3:08AM):
[-:

Well, well, well.

A silly grin spread across her lips as she rolled onto her side. Blueblood was all but forgotten as she bestowed a ‘like’ on Twilight’s comment. Stalking Twilight’s PictoGram a few weeks back had shown her that her friend only commented or engaged sparingly, so that little emote was a very nice sight. She was delighted to be acknowledged.

She clicked on the picture, and the app’s interface faded away, letting her admire the photo unobstructed. She often admired her own photos like a narcissist, but there was something about this one that made her feel… warm.

And it made her miss Twilight, she realized, zooming into her friend’s face. The silly grin, the corny victory sign, the beautiful wings, the mesmerizing violet eyes, the all of her.

She hadn’t felt this way in a very long time, she thought mindlessly, this excited to be in someone’s orbit.

In fact, she thought next, a little less mindlessly, the last time she’d felt that way was over five years ago, the week she met Blueblood.

Of course, that meant nothing, and because it meant nothing, she kept zooming in and out on Twilight’s face, thinking of absolutely nothing.

It was about four in the morning when Applejack finally got to sit on her couch after what she would call a satisfying but real long day. She loved volunteering at the club, especially now that she was out of school and had a bit more time, but boy howdy, it could be a lot sometimes, especially when she helped close and clean up.

At least everything had turned out okay. The event, the costumes, Twilight and Sunset’s presentation, and even Rarity. The things she’d do for that girl. Must be something about childhood friendships, that bond that can’t be broken. She just wished Rarity had better taste in men.

Ah well.

She fished her phone out of her pocket, clicked on her messaging app, sleepily glanced at her message previews, locked her phone, and then quickly unlocked it to read with wide eyes.

Twi – 3:48AM [1 unread message]
Got Rarity home safe. She seemed to be doing a lot better. She asked to see a movie tomorrow, so—

Rarebear – 3:40AM [5 unread messages]
BTW, complete topic change, but just curious, what made you realize you liked women? Was there a specific sensati—

Dash – 2:43PM [1 unread message]
hey so whats happening with that chik from ur work????????

Fluttershy – 9:39AM [1 unread message]
Oh, I would love to get coffee ^-^ I’m free Tuesday after the sanctuary closes at around six. Would that wor—

Oh, boy.

She clicked into Rarity’s message.

Rarebear – 3:40AM
BTW, complete topic change, but just curious, what made you realize you liked women? Was there a specific sensation? A sort of FLASH, if you will? How do you know you like them? Women, to be clear.

Applejack licked her lips. Not a single emoji in the text message. Hm. Her first instinct was to just answer the question and think nothing of it, just assume Rarity was curious after being at the bar. Her second instinct, however, was to think of Rarity’s interactions with Twilight that night, and the big grin on her face when she and Twilight held hands.

Which could mean nothing. But it could also mean something. Nothing bad would come out of a quick exploratory poke, right?

You – 4:03AM
Why are you askin’?

She sent it off. And then added:

You – 4:03AM
Some gal catch your eye?

It was important to note that Rarity never replied to messages on time. Maybe to some people she did, but when it came to Applejack, she replied hours late, if at all. That’s just who she was, and Applejack loved her anyway.

So, that said, it became a matter of great note that not even a minute after she sent off that text, Applejack’s phone pinged not one, not two, not three, but four times at four in the morning.

Rarebear – 4:03AM
No???????

Rarebear – 4:04AM
No, of course not, why on earht would you think tht? I’m not interestwd in women, you knw that

Rarebear – 4:04AM
Hold on do you think i like wpmen??? Have i given off signs? I HAVENT but have I???

Rarebear – 4:05AM
applejack????????

That was a lot of typos. Much more than usual for Rarity, who tried her best to type correctly despite her long nails forcing her to type a word a minute if she wanted to sound educated.

Applejack stared at the message for what felt like forever, before deciding she wanted to know if her friend group was about to get real interesting.

She took a gamble.

You – 4:06AM
It’s Twilight, ain’t it?

Half a second passed.

Then her phone started to ring.