Rarity had her hooves full. She had to make 15 of each of 5 different dresses, each one perfectly the same as the others of its kind… That made… Sixty dresses? No… Seventy five!? Rarity could feel sweat trickling down her forehead. Perhaps she shouldn’t have taken the time to go to Pinkie’s ‘Hooray for Friday!’ party after all? Well, she had, and there was no changing that. Still, she’d done more work under stricter deadlines. At least she had until next Friday to finish them. That meant two full weeks, plenty of time for a seamstress of her calibre.

Then a harrowing thought struck her. The order had been placed Thursday. In that case, ‘Next Friday’ didn’t mean the 23rd, it meant…

The 16th. And today was the 10th. Rarity did some more quick math. She obviously couldn’t include the 16th as a work day since she’d have to have them delivered that day, which meant she had 5 days, starting today. Her eyes widened when she realized what that meant… 15 dresses a day for 5 days.

Panic gripped her. She hadn’t thought this through at all, the excitement of the opportunity had blinded her judgment. This was a disaster! The Worst. Possible. Thing. Shrieking in anguish, Rarity pulled her chaise lounge into the room with her magic and was about to flop onto it when she heard the door chime ring, signaling someone had entered the boutique.

And I was about to have such a good pout, too… Rarity sighed as she quickly trotted downstairs and put on her business face. “Hello and welcome to Carousel Boutique, where every garment is Chiq, Unique, and Magni-Pinkie?”

Truth be told, Rarity was not in the mood to deal with customers today, now that she realized how much work she had ahead of her. Therefore, seeing it was her friend instead should have come as a relief. Rarity expected the tightness in her chest to dissipate, replaced with some degree of relief and joy.

But it didn’t, and it took Rarity a moment to figure out why.

Pinkie Pie looked sad, maybe even distressed. It wasn’t the fact that her friend was sad, though, as Rarity had been no stranger to comforting her friends when they were upset over the last few years, it was the specific way in which she looked sad. Her mane was unkempt (not that it was usually particularly kempt, but now it was decidedly un-so), and she had large circles under her eyes that seemed to indicate a lack of sleep. Rarity had decided a long time ago that the best way she could describe Pinkie was ‘animated’. She was an ‘animated mare’; Whatever Pinkie happened to be doing at any given moment, she would be doing it animatedly, be it baking or running or even just sleeping, somehow. This did not change when Pinkie was upset about something, as she would be animatedly upset. Now, however, she just looked… muted. There were no sad trombones, no giant rivers of tears flowing from her eyes, no cartoonish straightening of her hair… Like a normal pony looking sad, except it was Pinkie. It looked wrong. Rarity felt a shiver travel down her spine..

“Hi Rarity.” Pinkie looked up, but her head was angled down like a dog being scolded by its master. “I…” Pinkie paused, an obvious struggle going on in her conscience. “I did something bad.”

It took Rarity a moment to decide how to respond, but she quickly tossed aside the confusion and approached her friend. “Oh darling, whatever do you mean? Are you alright? Please, come in and let me put us on some tea.”

Pinkie hesitated. “I… I don’t want to be a bother. I know you said you’d be busy today…”

It was true. Rarity had momentarily forgotten in the shock of seeing her friend so out of sorts, but the mention of it made her lose her breath. When she’d said that last night, she hadn’t even realized the half of it. Still, she shook her head. “Really, Pinkie, it’s no trouble at all. I have… Well, I have plenty of time. My friends come first.”

“... Okay.” Pinkie said softly and allowed herself to be led over to a chair at the kitchen table, sitting without any fanfare whatsoever. Rarity grimaced. Whatever was wrong, it must have been bad.

“Give me a moment to start a kettle boiling and I’ll be right back.” Rarity excused herself from the room to start the tea before returning and sitting next to Pinkie. She sat in silence for a moment, wondering if Pinkie would start talking on her own, but it appeared Pinkie had taken a keen interest in the intricate pattern of Rarity’s tablecloth, following its looping spirals from one end to the other with her eyes.

Rarity cleared her throat in as ladylike a way as possible. “What is the problem, dear? You seemed quite alright last night.”

“It’s kind of a long story.” Pinkie said, resting her head in her hooves. Rarity grimaced as she wanted to ask her to take her elbows off the table--Manners, after all--but she could tell this was not the time for correcting anypony’s social graces.

“Then start at the beginning and we will figure it out together.” Rarity offered.

Pinkie seemed to consider exactly where to begin before she closed her eyes and straightened up in her seat. “Okay… I guess it began Wednesday… I was working at Sugarcube Corner when Applejack came in, and asked if we could talk about something, private. We went up to my room and I was all excited because I thought she wanted to share a secret, but...” Pinkie trailed off, her lips quivering and tears forming at the corners of her eyes.

Rarity listened intently, but it was clear Pinkie was still wrestling with her thoughts. “It’s okay darling, take all the time you need,” Rarity cooed in what she hoped was a soothing way as she floated a box of tissues over to the table.

Pinkie took one with a muffled “Thanks,” and blew her nose. Whatever it was Applejack had wanted to talk about, Rarity could tell it had had quite an effect on Pinkie.

Rarity sat with her in silence, trying not to let her mind speculate too much as she waited for Pinkie to resume. She didn’t even let a hint of the aneurysm she was having show through each time Pinkie let a soiled tissue fall to the floor next to her, instead just adding ’Burn rug, disinfect floor, and buy new rug’ to her mental to do list. Finally Pinkie appeared ready to continue.

“She told me,” Pinkie paused, and for a moment Rarity thought she was going to lapse back into silence before she sucked in a big breath and spoke. “...She told me she’s in love with me.”

Rarity’s eyes widened as she silently thanked Celestia they didn’t have their tea yet, because she almost definitely would have done a spit take, and ladies quite simply did not do spit takes. However little she may have expected that, though, she didn’t understand why Pinkie seemed to be in so much pain over it. She reached a hoof over to Pinkie’s shoulder and gave it a gentle rub.

“I had no idea,” was all she could think to say at first, but Pinkie made no effort to continue, instead resuming her examination of the table cloth as she sniffled and reached for another tissue. Rarity squirmed. “I… I must admit, Pinkie, I don’t think I understand. Is that why you’re so upset?”

“Yes! I mean, well, no, not because she loves me, but because of what that means!” Pinkie stood up on her hind legs, slamming her front hooves onto the table and looking directly in Rarity’s eyes.

Raritty craned her neck backwards so that she could maintain eye contact, or possibly just to put a little more distance between herself and Pinkie. The suddenness of her change in demeanor was somewhat startling, after all.

“And, er, what exactly does that mean?” She asked, hoping to gain some insight into what Pinkie meant.

“All I want is for my friends to be happy,” Pinkie mumbled as she sat back down, letting the side of her head rest on the table as new tears rolled down her cheeks. “I’m not stupid. I know sometimes I take it a little too far and I can get on ponies’ nerves when I get excited, which, let’s face it, is like all the time, but I only do that because I really, really want everyone to be happy.” Without raising her head, Pinkie gave Rarity a look that seemed to indicate she’d given ample explanation, but Rarity was still confused.

“I’m sorry, but I still don’t--” Rarity started, but Pinkie cut her off.

“How do you not see it?” Pinkie grabbed the sides of her head in apparent frustration. “My entire life has been devoted to making ponies happy, which is fine as long as we’re friends, because I’d never do anything to hurt my friends! But if Applejack loves me, it means… It means I have to break her heart. No matter what I say, it’s going to lead to same thing, and that’s the last thing I want for any of my friends! I can say no and break her heart now, or I can say yes and break her heart later. Either way I’m the bad guy. Either way I’m the pony who made Applejack sad,” Pinkie mumbled the last sentence.

The tea kettle began whistling right as Rarity opened her mouth to respond, which she was somewhat glad for given that she didn’t have the faintest idea what to say to that. “Excuse me a moment.” She said as she got up from the table and walked to the kitchen.

Rarity quickly poured the water into two cups and levitated over a pair of tea bags, with which she returned to the table. “I do hope Pomegranate is alright with you, as it’s all I have left.”

“Pomegranate… That’s a funny word,” Pinkie mumbled, her head still in her hooves. Rarity placed one of the tea cups in front of Pinkie and sat back down with her own, enjoying the aroma as much as she could while she waited for it to steep and cool.

“So what did you say?” Rarity asked.

“I… Well… Remember how I said I did a bad thing?” Pinkie gave a sheepish grin.

Rarity raised one eyebrow for several long seconds before realization struck her. “Pinkie, please don’t tell me that means what I think it means.”

“That depends. Do you think it means I forgot to add sugar to the sixteen batches of cupcakes I made yesterday? Because then, the answer is no, that is not what it means.” Pinkie shrunk back in her seat. As exasperating as this was, it was at least nice to see Pinkie making a joke, some sense of normalcy seeping back into the conversation. It was clear that getting this all off her chest was helping her on some level, which Rarity was glad for.

Rarity brought a hoof to her temple as she squeezed her eyes shut. “So you told her nothing, then.”

Pinkie cast her gaze downward, tapping her hooves together. “I just thought, maybe if I didn’t answer one way or the other, then maybe I wouldn’t have to. We could just,” Pinkie paused to sniffle again. “We could just move on and keep being happy.”

“I can only guess how that worked out for you,” Rarity said, immediately regretting the frustration in her voice as Pinkie recoiled slightly.

“After the party she asked if we could talk, and I panicked.” Whatever degree of calm Pinkie had recovered was once again escaping her, as Rarity saw her tearing up again and reaching for the tissues.

“What happened?”

“I just didn’t want to hurt her, so I,” Pinkie blew her nose again. “I tricked her. I told her to go downstairs and then I locked my door. She was crying, Rarity. Applejack was crying, and it was all my fault. I’m a horrible pony.”

To say Rarity was shocked that her friend would do something so underhanded wouldn’t have been out of line, but on some level, she understood. “You know that isn’t true, Pinkie. She was upset, I’m sure, but you’re not a horrible pony, you just made a mistake. Applejack may be upset with you, but she will forgive you in time.”

Pinkie was rubbing her muzzle with a foreleg. “She probably never wants to talk to me again,” Pinkie lamented.

Rarity sat back in her chair, thinking. Something about this whole situation seemed off, and it took her time to figure out what it was. “I can help you, Pinkie, but I need you to understand that of all the choices available, you chose the worst. Possible. One.”

“I know.”

“Good. Then I have a few questions before we make a plan of action,” Rarity said, putting on an air of leadership. “You’ve said a lot about how Applejack feels about you, and how you responded, but you haven’t said how you feel about her.”

“Guilty, mostly.”

“No, I mean, how does she make you feel? Not at this exact moment, but in general?” Rarity sipped her tea.

Pinkie blinked once, apparently unsure what to say. Pinkie seemed to be searching her face for a tell before shrugging and saying, “Good?”

Rarity facehoofed. “There’s no wrong answer here, darling, just talk about her. Whatever comes to mind.”

Pinkie tapped her chin with a hoof for a moment and gave a soft hmmm “Okay. Well, she’s one of my best friends, but of course you know that. She’s orange, which is a great, happy color. She’s super hard working, which is respectable even if I think she could stand to take more time to relax. She’s one of the best bakers ever, sometimes I think she’s even better than I am! And she has a really fun accent even though she doesn’t think she has an accent, and...”

Rarity watched as Pinkie animatedly--It was so good to see Pinkie looking animated again--talked about Applejack, a smile slowly returning to her face as she listed off things about their friend.

“... She’s got a really cool hat that she wears everywhere, and I mean everywhere, she even had it at Princess Cadence’s wedding, and I think she might even sleep in it, which is kinda silly,” Pinkie giggled before resuming, “She’s one of the most patient ponies I know, like when Fluttershy is having trouble facing a fear or when Twilight is trying to explain something with big words and the rest of us have already tuned her out hours ago, or when I get over excited and I’m being annoying but not quite pickle barrel kumquat chimicherrychanga annoying. And of course, she’s super dependable, and honest, and she’s always doing her best to help everypony out, even when it’s not convenient for her. She’s got great teeth, which is important, because she has a great smile. I love seeing her smile.” Pinkie paused for a moment, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Why?”

Rarity took another sip of her tea. “Just some reconnaissance, dear. I have another question for you.”

“What’s that?” Pinkie tilted her head to the side like a confused dog.

“You said you didn’t want to answer because you didn’t want to hurt her, which I understand, but I happen to know that you’ve dated ponies before. Why is this time so different?” Rarity asked, placing her empty tea cup on the table before her.

Pinkie shook her head with a sigh. “I don’t know.”

Rarity felt the corners of her mouth turn up slightly. “You don’t have to draw any conclusions right now, dear, but I want you to think about it. I know you don’t want to hurt Applejack, but if you’ll indulge me, think about what is really holding you back.”

Pinkie may have been suspicious before, but now Rarity had no doubt wheels were turning inside her pink little head as she raised an eyebrow. “What are you saying?”

“I’m not saying anything,” Rarity scoffed as she raised a defensive hoof, “I’m simply asking you to think it over.”

Pinkie shrugged. “Okie dokie lokie. So what now?”

“I think you know what you have to do now.” Rarity tried not to sound condescending, but she suspected she failed.

“I need… to… go talk to Applejack?”

Rarity nodded in a satisfied way. “Yes.”

“But,” Pinkie slumped dejectedly, “What if she doesn’t want to see me right now? I’m not even sure I want to see me right now.”

Rarity touched a hoof to Pinkie’s emphatically. “Applejack may be mad at you right now, and frankly, I couldn’t blame her if she was.” Rarity paused and took a breath. “But we both know that she will forgive you with time. For the moment, you need to go put your cards on the table, so to speak. If you don’t attempt to make it right, then it won’t get better. And I know Applejack means more to you than that. She does to all of us.”

Rarity silently wished she’d had the opportunity to refill her tea cup at some point as she watched Pinkie take a deep breath. “Yeah… you’re right. Thanks, Rarity.”

“It’s no problem, Pinkie.” Rarity smiled as she moved in to hug her.

“I’ll get out of your mane now so you can finish your dresses for your big fancy showcase!” Pinkie chirped, bouncing out the door looking infinitely more like herself than she had when she'd arrived. “I’ll let you know how it goes!” Rarity heard her voice echo in from outside.

Rarity gasped. In all the drama and intrigue of Pinkie’s story, she’d completely forgotten that she was supposed to be working. She looked up at the clock on the wall and saw it reading 1 in the afternoon. Apparently her conversation with Pinkie had lasted much longer than she’d intended.

“... Oh, buck me,” was all she could say, and she was glad no one was around to hear a lady swear.