"It's two."

Consciousness was sharp. The words dropped through her dream like a coin into water, breaking a path behind it, dissolving it. She lifted her head from her hooves. They were sweaty and moist and gross and she tasted sleep in her mouth. "Is - is Pinkie still here?" she asked with a yawn.

"Yeah, she's downstairs." Spike only capped a couple inches over the bedside, and he had to look up to find her eyes. "Why did you want me to wake you up at two?"

"I didn't need more sleep," she yawned, feeling all of a sudden as though that was a lie. "I need to study." She ran her tongue along her teeth and looked around her room, out the window. It all seemed like yesterday, but it was will today. Naps made her think like that.

Spike rolled his eyes. "Study what." It was rhetorical, but she answered it.

"Oh, uh, something about the Elements. In fact, could you get me the section on those?

Spike nodded, and turned to the door, but paused. "Wait, the section? The whole section?"

"Yeah. It's only, like, ten books. Get Pinkie to help you."

"She's making cookies," he replied, claws on hips.

"Of course she's making cookies. Fine, I'll help," she groaned, and stretched out on the bed before sliding off. Gravity felt funny. Everything felt funny. And her head hurt. Did she eat breakfast? Or lunch? No, she didn't. Eating was overrated, she needed water. "Actually, wait for me at the shelf, I need a drink."

"Right," he replied, and disappeared out the door.

She put a hoof on her face, dragging it downwards. Why did things have to be so complicated? It'd only been a couple weeks for them. Maybe a couple months. And this had to happen. Just as she'd settled down, gotten comfortable, really started to feel that her marefriend was a marefriend. This had to happen.

Well, take it as it comes, she thought, and trotted down to the stairs. There weren't too many ponies in the library, just two at the back as far as she could see, and with the natural light hitting her at full-force as her eyes caught the window, she felt a surge of 'awake' in moments.

She couldn't even get down the third step when she heard "Twi? You up?" from across the main room, from the kitchen.

"Yeah," she called back, and trotted down the rest, waiting for what she was pretty sure would happen.

It did. Pinkie burst from the kitchen doorway, a plate of cookies balanced to an unlikely degree on her head. "Guess what I made?" she sang, and bounced over. "Try one! They're butterscotch."

"Where'd you get butterscotch?" she asked, and levitated one from the pile. "I didn't think I had any."

"I did. I just ran home and got it."

And as to be expected, "Wow, Pinkie, this is really good." She paused, looked down at it, and smiled. Bright tan, perfect brown on the edges. Sugar on top. "No wonder you bake."

"It's the confectioner's sugar that makes it melty. You know science, that's how it works," she added, with a giggle.

"And you're certainly feeling better," she commented, finishing the cookie.

"Yeah, it doesn't last long, apparently," she replied, and moved to balance the platter. "Can you, uh, take these?"

"No problem." She set them down carefully on the stairs, and looked over at her. A bright ecstatic grin, a constant bouncing in place, a softness in her eye. It felt right. Back to normal. But it wasn't. She still had work to do all day, Applejack was still lying on some hospital bed with tubes hooked up to her. They were in a spot, and no matter how normal it felt, she couldn't let herself off her guard.

Pinkie noticed her smile falter, probably. "You alright?"

"I'm fine. It's fine, I'm just thinking." Her smile picked up and she leaned forwards for a little kiss. "Love you."

"You, too," she replied, and returned the affection, reaching a hoof up to her cheek, drawing her forwards and making a little kiss bigger than necessary. "Don't work yourself too much. I'll be down here if you need me."

Twilight clicked her tongue. "You don't have to do that. I'll be a few hours."

"I don't have anything else to do today. I'm off work, I haven't got anything planned... I mean, you know, I'd rather stick around and be moral support," she said, with a laugh.

"Uh..." She went through her mind for something Pinkie could do that wouldn't waste her time. "Do you have any upcoming, like, parties or something?"

Pinkie rolled her eyes. "Why are you trying to get rid of me so fast?"

"I mean, it's a few hours. I just don't want you to wait up on me." She paused. "... Did you meet up with the Cakes?"

"Uh..."

"That's a thing you could do, right? Rather than use up everything in my kitchen baking," she added with a pointed grin.

Pinkie sighed, and looked out the window as well. "I mean, I could. If you really want me to."

Twilight's grin lost its edge, and she put a hoof on Pinkie's neck. "Hey. I'll take you to dinner later. Whenever you show up." She levitated another cookie over to her. "Did you try one?"

"Not yet," she said, and took it from her with one bite. "Hm. Less salt."

"They're good. Don't nitpick, come on."

She giggled. "Alright, I'll do it. But don't expect me to be more than an hour or so."

"Deal."

She grinned. Whenever she smiled, at all, the corners of her eyes turned up naturally like they would on anypony, but her cheeks rounded more like they were nothing but fluff. It was always a full, genuine smile, and it was always in supply. Another small kiss and a 'bye' and she was out the door.

Twilight frowned as the door closed. For just a moment, a concept popped into her mind like an subatomic particle, into and out of existence in a blink. I don't want to do anything today.

But the flood of information swarmed back and killed it, Applejack and the Elements and what it all had to do with her. And she tore her stare away from the door and trotted into the forest of shelves, levitating the cookies behind her.

The day went by like liquid. Sunlight melted through the windows early on, drying up as the afternoon waned. Book after book, more and more complex theorems, thousands of words about possible experiments they could take for research. Grants, publicity, professionals. Everything was taken into account.

But at that point, she'd hit a wall. Four perfectly valid experiments into love and friendship-based magic, complemented by a brief economic model and a series of hypotheses and postevent actions. And she could go no further.

That was around seven. She stared at the pages of notes, a familiar sight that smelled of old books and spilled ink, lost in a flurry of disconnected thoughts. Eventually, she simply reorganized and stood to yawn, the break a breath of fresh air.

The autumn moon shone dully at seven o'clock, and she could see it through the balcony. It was bright red, and hot, frictional against the chill in the air. She walked over to it, and thought for a moment, about nothing in particular, like a tuneless whistle. And she walked outside and sat.

Her mind had convoluted into a couple small whispers of thought that seemed to hold some weight to them regardless of their lack of substance. Applejack's issue wasn't over, but she could do nothing for her. She didn't study medical magic, or biological magic. She was helpless. All she had to go on was the word of the Princess - fixed, she said. The Elements could be fixed.

If she hadn't looked down to rub at her nose, she wouldn't have seen the bright pink against the darkening street below. The shadow of a smile found its way onto her face, and she ported down, feeling the tickle of magic on her hooves.

Pinkie reared back before realizing who it was, then chuckled. "Don't do that on purpose. I get scared."

"I know, it's funny. How did it go?"

Pinkie stretched and looked up at the sky. "Well, you know, it was fine. They needed some help with stuff around the Corner, and I just got caught up in it. Sorry it took so long," she added, the phrase drawn-out like a sigh.

"It's cool," Twilight replied, taken a bit aback by the out-of-place apology. "I'm gonna pop in and tell Spike to close up, then we can go wherever."

She nodded, and Twilight walked back to the door. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Pinkie wasn't smiling.

They didn't go out for dinner. Not at first. Being out at night was always a bit beyond Twilight's standards - her day was generally very structured, and nighttime was for reading and resting. The season had turned around and shortened the days, and, despite how early it was, it was already dark. Being out on the town under the stars and in the chill of evening felt free, invigorating. And Twilight wasn't quite ready to go inside another stuffy building yet.

Pinkie had asked what else they could do outside at night. There wasn't much to do at all, she said, and Twilight figured she would know. So they found their way back down to the river, and they were sitting, leaning together, their quiet conversation merging with the noise of the cicadas and crickets around them.

"It's kind of strange to me," Pinkie was saying, her chin resting against Twilight's shoulder, "that you don't seem to talk about, you know, science and math stuff when we go out. It seems like you would."

Twilight readjusted herself, stretching a hoof further around Pinkie. "I sort of figure you wouldn't be interested. Plus, there are better things to talk about."

"Hm. Like what?"

The thoughts were sitting at the front of her mind, waiting their turn. She breathed deeply for a moment, and leaned up to kiss her gently on the cheek, followed by a long, thoughtful nuzzle. "There's tons today."

"Well, like what?"

"Like, you know, the Elements. Applejack. You being alright, which is pretty awesome," she added with a smile. Pinkie was warm against her, and was moving her hoof just a little against Twilight's side, with a round and silky word like 'stroke' or 'caress'... perhaps it was a good time now. "I... I wanted to ask about something you might not remember."

"Shoot."

The memory was small, and fuzzy, but it was still rather heavy on her mind. "You know - you know you're really close to me."

"Hey, come on," Pinkie said with a giggle. "Give me some credit."

"I'm just putting that out there, okay? You might not remember this at all, but, um, when you were having that problem with the malentro, you said, um," she continued for a moment, trailing off into nothing.

"I'm in total suspense," she said dryly, and broke into a giggle.

Twilight glanced over at her, and she was looking down at the river, a small smile on her face. There was no way she remembered. Perhaps it wasn't a good time. "... Nothing."

"Twilight -"

"Nothing. I'll talk about it later, okay?"

Pinkie leaned back, her eyes darting towards her from the river. "Is it embarrassing?"

Twilight looked away, with some sudden urge to avoid eye contact. "No, it's - not really."

"Then tell me. I wanna know now that you've made a big deal out of it." Pinkie pulled her a bit closer, moving her chin from her shoulder to the top of her head.

Twilight opened her mouth, hesitant. "Are you sure -?"

"Yes, I'm sure. Just say it."

"It's kind of heavy stuff."

Pinkie sighed. "If you really don't want to say it, don't. I don't mind."

"Well," she said, fussing over her words for a moment. "Yeah, I want to save it for later. Or maybe just never. I mean, you were out of it, and I can see why it would be kinda weird to bring it up." She paused. "You really have no idea what I'm talking about?"

"Nope. I don't remember a lot of this morning."

There was a quiet moment, as Twilight laid back and brought Pinkie down gently with her. "... Do you want to know something interesting?"

"Does it have to do with science and math stuff?" Pinkie asked, with a proud little grin at her segue.

Twilight laughed, and rolled over against Pinkie's side, throwing a foreleg across her chest. "No. I was just thinking, and I looked up something earlier today for no particular reason. Apparently," she continued, "you set me off."

"I don't understand wh-"

"I'm not done yet, I don't expect you to understand." She smiled, putting a hoof lazily over her mouth. "Shush. Basically, some ponies aren't driven romantically or sexually or anything in those terms. But then every once in a while some event occurs and some of those ponies find their way onto the spectrum of sexuality."

Pinkie was silent for a moment, then started a chesty chuckle, slow and increasing - a good, hearty one. "So you're -" she began, and cut herself off with more laughter. Twilight followed suit, pulling away and sitting up. "You're saying that I did that? To you?"

"I don't know. I guess," Twilight replied, with a cough finding its way through her smile. The only reason she was laughing anymore at all is because Pinkie was, and Pinkie's laugh was the flu. "Maybe."

"It's rich!" Pinkie shouted into the sky. "I mean, you're the first mare I ever asked out. And it worked for some odd reason."

"It seems like the probability for it happening to begin with was pretty low," Twilight replied, her voice low. It was an odd thought, and for some misplaced reason it hit hard.

"I think it's ironic."

"Absolutely dripping with irony."

Pinkie snorted, and sat up. "Just paint me a picture with your words," she returned, her voice laden with false pretense.

"As I gaze up at the inky black sky," she began rhetorically, adapting a caricature of a regal voice and throwing her hoof above her.

"The sky is blue," Pinkie interjected, pointing at her and sitting up beside her.

Twilight glanced at her, and back at the sky. "... What are you, colorblind?"

"No-no-no, it's blue. It's still blue. Just dark blue," she continued, her giggle breaking her sentence apart. "A very dark blue," she added, imitating Twilight's regal voice.

"It is that which is so monstrous ordinarily," Twilight finished. "Is there any place that is better? Is there any place that has so much stretched out?"

"Don't, with the weird voice," Pinkie managed. "I'm gonna die."

"I'm gonna get hiccups," Twilight replied, holding a hoof to her chest in an attempt to calm herself. She was able to slow her breathing - moderately - and looked over at Pinkie, whose laughter was beginning to fade as well.

It wouldn't ever stop feeling amazing to kiss her. It was only once or twice before then that Twilight had held her tightly just above the hips and brought her forwards, and it was probably her favorite way to get lips from point A to point B - every time she did that, Pinkie would always be surprised just for a moment and then lean into it, not quite taking control. This time, she framed Twilight with her forelegs, resting one across her shoulder and tenderly smoothing down the back of her mane and reaching the other around her, pulling her forwards.

"Wow," Twilight said as well as she could without pulling away. "You've gotten really good."

"I know it's your - it's your favorite - " Pinkie replied, her voice quickly falling to a hoarse whisper. In a moment, she'd pulled away, retracting her hooves a little.

Twilight gave her a questioning smile. "Well, yeah, so keep going."

Pinkie tried to return the smile, but it fell away again. "Y- yeah, sorry, one - one second," she murmured, staring at her with her big, bright blue eyes.

Twilight felt a heat rush through her, its reason shifting midway. First, she just wanted Pinkie's embrace back, a primal sort of desire. And then she saw Pinkie's eyes. They weren't loving, they weren't soft. They were wet and they were scared. "... Pinkie?"

Her mouth opened as though she was going to respond, but after a second she closed it again, biting her lip and looking away.

"Pinkie, is that problem back, because I need to know if -"

"No, it - Twilight, I -" she stammered, putting a hoof over her face. "I love you. I love you so much." She leaned forwards again, suddenly, but instead of a kiss, she buried her muzzle into Twilight's shoulder and wrapped her forelegs around her even tighter. It wasn't firm, it was tight, with no gentleness at all.

"Pinkie - are you alright?" Maybe the malentro did have a lasting effect. How long would it last? Had it stopped being random and just weakened her emotional stability? Please, just let it be over. She hugged back.

"I'm sorry," Pinkie whispered muffled into her shoulder. "I don't know how it happened."

"How what happened?" Twilight asked, softly, stroking her back.

Pinkie's hooves found their way to almost their original positions, and she held Twilight's head close to her own. "I - I can't tell you," she began, interrupting herself with a quiet sob.

"Wh - Pinkie, don't, um, don't cry," she started, suddenly losing her words. What was happening? Where did the laughter go? "You're scaring me."

"I'm sorry. I didn't -"

"Tell me what happened," Twilight interrupted her, trying to pull away and look at her but held tight.

"I can't," Pinkie whispered, with another sob. "I couldn't."

"Tell m-"

"You'll hate me, I know you will," Pinkie said, her breath quickly getting more shallow. "I can't tell you."

That was it. Twilight magicked Pinkie apart from her, and sat her up. Her mane was already a mess, her cheeks were matted with tears. She covered her face with her foreleg. "I'm sorry," she repeated, rubbing at her eyes and sobbing again.

"How - how dare you say that. I can't hate you, Pinkie. I wouldn't ever," Twilight replied with a scowl, a bit of an edge in her voice. "Tell me what happened." She lingered on each word. Pinkie turned away, her foreleg still over her face. A sudden frustration welled in her, and she forced it away magically, to a gasp from Pinkie.

She looked up, partially in shock, and shrunk away from Twilight's expression. "I... d-don't get mad at me," she stammered. "I'm begging you. I couldn't - I couldn't bear it. Celestia, I come all this way and th-this happens," she murmured, wiping at her eyes again.

"Pinkie. I..." She paused, and laid a hoof on her marefriend's. It seemed natural at the moment; she didn't realize she was doing it. "I don't know what happened, yet, so I might get mad at you. But I won't hate you."

Pinkie looked down at their hooves, and nodded. "I feel so awful," she said, her voice only barely audible. "I didn't mean to, but I - I have to let you know. I should have let you know earlier. I was scared - distracted. I'm sorry."

"Pinkie."

She inhaled. "I wasn't at the Cakes'."

Twilight waited for a moment. "Is that -"

"No - it - I just don't want to say it." She shook her head. "I met - I met Trixie along the way. To Sugarcube Corner."

Twilight stared at her, the light from the stars above beginning to dim the longer she did. It wasn't difficult from there to put two and two together. "... You..."

"I didn't mean to. I didn't," Pinkie said, her head whipping back up. Her eyes were visibly red, even in the night.

Perhaps she was in shock. That was probably it. "Did you..."

Pinkie shook her head quickly. "No! No, no, no, no, no. We - she -" She stopped herself. "We kissed. M-" She paused, again, and swallowed. "More than once. I feel awful."

Less shock. "... Why Trixie? How?" she asked, trying to naturalize her voice.

"No, don't ask. Please don't ask."

"I want to know."

With a quiet, labored sigh, she looked back down at the ground. "She came up to me near the Corner, and she started talking about how glad she was to see me and that I was safe, and then she opened the door. The Cakes weren't home, they were still out at a lunch meeting. We sat down for a while to talk..." She trailed off.

She was a wreck, with more tears falling to the ground every moment. There wasn't anypony she cared more about at that moment than Twilight, and Twilight knew it. At that realization, her shock fell away. It wasn't enough to be upset about. She leaned forwards and hugged her again, silently.

"I - I don't know what happened," she said, not returning the embrace. "She was just s-so happy I was there, and she made a move, and I didn't do anything. I didn't do anything for a couple - for - for a couple seconds. I don't know what happened," she stammered, and sniffled.

"It's okay. Breathe," Twilight whispered. "It's okay, I promise."

"I - I stopped her after a little and I said that I'm with somepony and I couldn't," Pinkie continued, that fear and anxiety showing its face again. "But I didn't stop her right away. I don't know what happened."

"It's nothing to get worked up over," Twilight replied, and sighed quietly against her neck. "It was probably just a leftover part of the effect."

"But I'm scared that - that it wasn't," Pinkie whispered. "She - she's my friend, and I couldn't - I felt that I couldn't just refuse her," Pinkie managed, her voice breaking. "I should have. I - Celestia, Twilight, I cheated on you and I love you."

"You didn't," Twilight interjected. "Don't try to convince yourself of that. It wasn't you - I mean, it doesn't at all sound like the Pinkie I know," Twilight replied firmly, her embrace tightening. "I can guarantee it was something else." Whatever that something was... well, that needed some more research.

"I don't want to do it again. I don't love her."

"I know. Take a deep breath."

She did, and pulled away, still not looking at her. "I didn't mean to."

"Look, Pinkie," Twilight said finally, lifting her chin. "I'm not angry at you. I don't consider it cheating, okay? And it's my take on it that matters here, correct?"

"I... guess," she admitted, and closed her eyes.

"I know you didn't mean to. Don't keep saying it."

"... Okay."

"Will you look at me?"

Pinkie's bottom lip quivered, and she opened her eyes. They were glistening, some lingering wetness still fresh.

Despite herself, and despite the situation, and despite how terrible Pinkie had made quite clear she was feeling, Twilight giggled. A little.

"Wh - what?"

"What can I do to make you feel better?"

Pinkie got the humour as quickly as Twilight expected her to, and the start of a small, sad smile tugged at her lips. "I should be asking what I could do to make it up to you."

"What if you pay for dinner and we call it even?" Twilight suggested, moving her hoof to Pinkie's cheek and down her neck.

Pinkie'd smile broke on the sides, pushed and distorted by some new emotion. "I... I don't deserve you," she said under her breath, nuzzling against her hoof.

It wasn't often, but every once in a while Pinkie was vulnerable. Very vulnerable. And Twilight had never seen that to such an extent. So what else was there to do but kiss her? Just one more time? It wasn't the soft, passive, warm kiss as it usually was. It was forceful, wrapped around strained, stressed lips. It was trying its best to communicate don't worry I love you. "What other pony would be honest about all that?" Twilight asked gently, breaking away only enough to speak.

She was too close to see it, but she felt the smile, full and genuine.

Their position didn't change much once they made their way into the small family restaurant near the centre of Ponyville. It was warmer inside, so they weren't as close, but Pinkie was still leaning lamely against Twilight and Twilight's foreleg was wrapped steadily around Pinkie. As they were waiting for the waiter, they'd fallen back from the mild lightheartedness they'd lapsed into to the quiet embrace from the riverfront.

They were quiet for the longest time, and silent about the issue of the moment. All that really surfaced was a mixture of quips and soft, loving little phrases. Twilight wasn't going along because it was necessarily natural for her, she was going along because it seemed to make Pinkie comfortable. Whatever had happened had set something off in her, and Twilight intended to find out what that was.

"Pinkie," she said during a low point in the conversation.

"Hm?"

"Whenever you're ready," she began, choosing her words carefully, "I'd like to know the whole story."

Pinkie didn't reply for a second. "... I really told you everything."

"It's fine if you don't want to. You don't have to," Twilight responded, unconsciously pressing her lips against the top of her head.

Pinkie frowned, gazing off into the dimly-lit part of the room near the kitchen in the back. The lights above were bright white and almost clinical, making the fluffy, velvety embrace that much stronger in contrast. She inhaled. "We... we went into the back, and we had some hot chocolate, and we must have talked for an hour. And, eventually - and I know I should have seen it coming from how she was talking - she leaned over..." Pinkie paused. "And I remember what she said. She said, 'Let's talk about this like adults', and then she leaned over and kissed me." Her voice rose in pitch a bit. "I didn't know what to do - I mean, I had no idea, so I just let her - and..."

Twilight kissed her cheek, longer than a cheek kiss usually lasts. "I don't want you to think it's a really big deal," she reassured her. "In the end, it doesn't even matter. The more I think about it, the less I mind. On your part."

Pinkie lifted her head to look at her. "Don't blame Trixie," she said, nearly in a question or a whine. "She's, you know, she's in a tough place right now, and - and I don't think she was thinking right." She trailed off as though she had more to say, then closed her mouth.

"Here's what we'll do," Twilight began, her voice level. "Tomorrow, we'll go talk to her. Together."

"Twilight -"

"And we'll tell her nicely to forget about it, and we can all go on with our lives."

At this, Pinkie stared down at her glass, and nodded.

Twilight rubbed her back. "So we have everything all wrapped up?"

She nodded again.

Twilight smiled. "So we can go back to a nice night out."

Pinkie glanced over at her, for a second, and back at the glass. "I didn't mean to ruin tonight."

Twilight giggled, again despite herself. "Pinkie. Pinkie, Pinkie, Pinkie, Pinkie," she said, stepping down the syllables like stairs. "I'm just glad to be out."

She gave a stunted little smile in return.

In the restaurant around them, there were a couple small gatherings of ponies, from couples to social groups to loners out for a cup of coffee before bed. They were all wrapped up in their own worlds, like Twilight was in theirs. Her vision panned left, across the darkened, reflective street windows and out into the street-lamplit town. "You remember our first kiss?" she asked quietly.

Pinkie chuckled lowly. "I couldn't forget it."

Twilight leaned back against the booth seat. "For the life of me, I couldn't recount how I'd planned that out, or why I did what I did. I expected a huge scene in my head, with the lake and a kiss and some kind of deep meaning to it all, but it turned out to just be a kiss."

"Funny how it became your thing," Pinkie replied, rolling her glass on its base.

She didn't try to hide the grin. "I don't even like the word. 'Kiss'. It's too squeaky and hissy."

"Hm? What?"

"The word. It's weird to say."

Pinkie leaned back as well. "Huh. Kiss. Kissss. I guess I can see where you're going with that," she responded, readjusting her hooves and pulling Twilight closer.

She looked over at Pinkie, who was staring back, her irises even larger than normal in the fluorescent lights. The words found their way out before she'd measured them. "You said you wanted to marry me."

Pinkie sputtered on air, and shook her head. "I'm sorry -?"

"That was the thing I was talking about. This morning, you were out of it, and you said that."

"W - Twi - I don't - it - you can't expect - I was -" she stuttered, tripping over each syllable.

She giggled. "No, I know. I just think that, if you came up with that when you weren't quite right in the head, you - well, it's sweet," she finished concisely.

Pinkie simply stared. Twilight could feel it on the side of her head, but didn't return it, and let the words sink in. Don't worry I love you. It took a few seconds before she giggled again, more real this time, and pushed her face away jokingly. "Don't."

"I..." She trailed off. "I can't - I can't say anything, Twi."

Her giggle fell to a grin, and she shook her head at the corniness. "Do you want me to stay over tonight?"

Pinkie returned with a giggle of her own, infectious as it was. "I don't know. Not tonight, I don't think. I'll probably cry and it'll just be awkward."

"You cried the first time, and I didn't think it was awkward."

"Well, trust me," Pinkie replied simply, and folded her forelegs across her chest. "Where's the waiter?"

"Come on. I'm asking."

Pinkie's smile grew back to normal proportions for the first time in an hour. "... I mean, if you insist," she said, and accepted her quick kiss. But a sudden hoof on her cheek kept her from pulling too far away, and they remained face-to-face for a good few seconds, the blue in Pinkie's eyes stunning her a bit. "... I want you to know how sorry I am."

"I understand, Pinkie," Twilight replied gently. In a moment, finally, her brain found what it thought was a good solution to the conversation. "I forgive you."

It worked. Pinkie smiled again, and spent the rest of the evening rubbing every once in a while at her eyes.

It was magic.

The sounds of the room and the world outside of the room had died to nothing. All she could feel was the lips, like fire, on her own, and the breath against her face. It was visceral, electric. And to her great surprise, she didn't seem to be pulling away.

She felt herself move away, and back, each touch building another wall between her and reality. But, of course, reality came crashing back like a wrecking ball, crushing the dream she'd been weaving. She felt forceful hooves on her shoulders, pushing her backwards, away. Her eyes snapped open, and she looked up at Pinkie, whose breath was short and who was backed up against the arm of the couch, her mouth open noiselessly.

She couldn't find anything to say. There wasn't anything to say, except what was on her mind, and eventually its filter to her mouth broke. "... Just say you don't love me."

Pinkie's mouth moved, finally, but her eyes were growing more anxious by the second.

She gritted her teeth, a frustration she'd never felt before welling up inside her. What could have possibly prevented this whole thing from happening? It was her luck, her awful luck. The words spilled out. "Just tell me you don't love me so I don't have to hope."

Pinkie looked down, and back up at her, shaking. "I - I don't. I can't."

The words hurt. They impacted her one at a time, cannonball after cannonball. She doesn't, and she couldn't. She felt the tears in her eyes, pushing against her skull. But she refused to let them out.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know," Pinkie said quietly, still kind even in such a circumstance. "Y-you know I'm with Twilight." She paused, relaxing a little bit as Trixie tensed more. "I may always be."

"I..." She began, language failing her. Memory of the kiss returned, followed by the ghost of the hooves on her shoulders. "I - l-love you." The words were odd, sweet and sudden, flowery and curtain-call dramatic. And she thought it may have been true, if she hoped it wasn't.

Pinkie slid off the couch and stood. "Thanks for the hot chocolate," she said gently, and dragged a hoof along the ground for a moment, apparently at as much of a loss for words as Trixie was. "W - we can talk about it later."

Trixie let her leave, so she could break a mug (just for the noise) and think. The tears had escaped her.

They had returned, a shell of the original feeling, as Trixie stood in the cold outside of the library. One or two, nothing important. She blinked them away, keeping an eye down each path. After everything they'd done, Pinkie meant something to her. Something real, something personal. Something Trixie hadn't really experienced before. And, even though she wasn't over-the-top attracted to her, she felt maddeningly close in the worst possible way.

So she and Twilight were going to have a good heart-to-heart.

Author's Notes:

Yes, Part 2 is planned out. No, there won't be a Part 3, but this arc will be part of the rest of the story, to some extent.