Rainbow Dash. As gross as it is, I have to admit that Lightning loved her. I don’t know why, and I never will. Even after, I don’t think she ever stopped caring about that featherbrain. I always knew Rainbow would amount to nothing, but still Lightning put her faith in her.

It was stupid. Lightning was stupid.

But I still felt bad for her. I was always so mad at Rainbow but, for Lightning’s sake, I thought I could put up with her.

Guess I was stupid, too.

—Gulfstream Dust, Book of Shadows XLVIII,

May 31, 1007

Gulfstream stared out the window of his cloud home, eyes set upon a lone figure laying on a stray cloud. His lips set in a frown as he considered the situation, trying not to let his anger get the best of him this time. The sun was setting, casting the city of Cloudsdale in a fiery orange glow, but Lightning didn’t move from her cloud.

He didn’t like seeing her like this. It made him want to hit something, but Lightning said that attack wasn’t always the best course of action. Besides, what would he attack? The window? He wasn’t about to make her replace another one.

So instead he did the only thing he could think of: he grabbed his jacket and stepped out into the cold winter air. It took him only a moment to gather up a small cloud and bring it alongside hers. He sat down and observed his cousin.

Lightning lay flopped on her barrel, fringe hanging over her glassy eyes. She stared at nothing, her gaze lingering on some distant goal. Her posture was increasingly familiar to him; the slumped form, the limp wings, the subtle pout. Lightning Dust wasn’t supposed to pout. She was supposed to smile, always. He hadn’t seen her smile in so long…

“Lightning?”

The mare’s eyes drifted over to him, then back to the far away nothingness. “Hey, Gulfie.”

He followed her gaze for a moment, looked back at her. “I don’t think she’s coming today.”

Lightning merely grunted, her body as limp as ever.

He leaned over to nuzzle her shoulder. “You should come in. It’ll be dark soon.”

“There’s still some daylight left.”

“C’mon, Lightning. Please?”

Silence lingered between them for some time, Gulfstream staring at her and Lightning not moving an inch. He huffed and turned to glare at the city below. Maybe he should have stayed inside and hit something. At least the ruckus would have drawn her attention.

“Gulfie?”

He grunted.

“What’s it like to always be mad?”

He turned back to her, ears perked, but she continued to gaze at the dusk skyline. He thought on the question for a while, not at all certain why she would ask it in the first place. “I dunno. It’s like… like you’ve always got a fire and you’re dying to put out. No, that’s not right.” He rubbed the side of his head as he thought. “I’m trying to let it out?”

Lightning’s eyes shifted to him but, once again, it was only for an instant. “I wanna put the fires out, y’know? Why is that so hard?”

Gulfstream cocked his head. “Uh, I don’t think you can put mine out.”

No response. Lightning closed her eyes and shivered.

Gulfstream considered her, watching as the orange light of the sun tinted her body. Their shadows grew longer, his heart grew heavier, his anger simmered. At last he opened his wings and took off. He made his way east, fully expecting her to try to stop him.

She didn’t, and that only made him worry even more.

It didn’t take long to reach the edge of the city, and finding a rainbow-trailed pony performing stunts was foal’s play. Gulfstream landed on a cloud and watched Rainbow Dash in the faint light that remained. Just the thought of her left his blood boiling, and he was tempted to turn around and go home. Lightning would probably be worrying about him right now.

Or would she? She seemed so preoccupied lately…

And Gulfstream knew the cause of it. So, with the fire burning dimly in his gut, he set off to catch the ever-moving Rainbow. It wouldn’t be difficult; for all her turns and loops and corkscrews, she never moved very far in any one direction. Catching her attention wasn’t hard, either. All he had to do was predict what cloud she intended to bust in a few seconds, land on it, and wait for her to notice him.

Rainbow was nothing if not predictable.

She’d also apparently forgotten how to stop mid-air, because when she saw she was about to plow into him she chose to divert her course and barely miss him rather than slow down. Gulfstream ducked, the wind of her passing flowing through his mane and feathers, and turned in time to see her spiral directly into a large cumulonimbus below. Taking a moment to still his heart, he flew down to land just as her head popped out of the fluffy substance.

“Gulfstream!” she snapped, extracting herself from the cloud. “Are you crazy? We could have both been seriously hurt. What the hay are you doing out here?”

“Looking for you.” He sat on the cloud and shivered in the chill air.

She followed his example, flapping a few times and settling a stern look his direction. “You don’t even like me. Hay, you hate me. Why would you come all the way out here just to find me?”

He snarled, wings snapping open, but the image of Lightning came to mind and he forced himself to calm down. It took a few seconds to get his wings back to his sides. “Lightning was waiting for you.”

Rainbow recoiled, her wide-eyed gaze turning west. “Sh-she didn’t follow you out here, did she?”

“Hmm?” He followed her example, then examined her posture. “Don’t think so.”

With a relaxing sigh, Rainbow nodded and turned back to him. She fidgeted, worked her lips and shuffled her wings. “Look, Gulfstream, you shouldn’t be out here. LD’s gonna be worried.”

This time there was no containing it; he jumped to his hooves, wings spread wide and teeth bared. “Do you even like Lightning anymore?”

Once more, she pulled back. It only served to anger him even more. He snorted and waited for an answer.

It seemed to take ages to come. “Of course I do. I just… I’m not…”

“What?” he demanded. “Not what?”

At last she gained some of her old fire back, stomping and leaning over him. “This isn’t something a nine-year-old needs to be thinking about! Go home.”

He met her glare for glare. “No, not without you.”

“Gulfie—”

“Don’t call me that!”

He leaped into the air, hoof pulled back, but caught himself. Hovering before her startled face, he ground his teeth together and imagined the sheer pleasure he’d feel if he could hit her once, just once. He couldn’t think of any pony he’d rather do it to.

But Lightning wouldn’t want that. So, though it took every ounce of willpower he had, he backed away and landed, planting his hoof firmly on the cloud. “Don’t call me that,” he growled. “Only Lightning can call me that.”

Rainbow observed him, her anger faded to a grim sadness that shined in her eyes. It reminded him of the sadness he saw in Lightning, so he turned away.

“You really do hate me, don’t you?”

He hunched forward with a pout. “Uh-huh.”

“And yet you still want me to be with Lightning?”

“Mm-mm.” He huffed and refused to look at her. “But I don’t want her to be sad, either.”

The shadows stretched as he waited for her to respond. The only sound was the wind in his ears, ruffling his feathers and making his mane wave into his eyes.

“You’re rough around the edges, Gulfstream,” Rainbow whispered, “but you’re not a bad kid, y’know that?”

He gritted his teeth and said nothing, absolutely refusing to look up when she sat next to him.

“Alright, you win. I’ll go. But… I don’t think you’ll be any happier.”

With a sigh, Gulfstream began to hover, turning west. “I don’t care. It’s LD I’m worried about.”

The flight back was made in silence, neither Gulfstream nor Rainbow interested in discussing things. Despite his desire not to, he kept glancing back at Rainbow, half-expecting her to have something to say. She never looked back, though. Instead she kept her eyes forward and hard. He didn’t like that expression on her face. He’d seen it in her and Lightning enough times, and sometimes in the mirror. It meant she was determined to do something, and nothing would stand in her way.

Second thoughts nagged at him the whole way home. He wished he and Lightning still lived with her parents. They were a bit too nice for his tastes, but at least they were good at calming ponies down. Why he thought that would be necessary, he couldn’t say. He just knew that he was very uncomfortable right now.

Maybe going to fetch Rainbow had been a bad idea after all.

Night had fallen by the time they made it home, but the cloud patio of Lightning’s place glowed with magical night lights. Gulfstream was glad she always kept them on. It reminded him of a lighthouse bringing him back to salvation. Even so, he hesitated at the door, and it was Rainbow who knocked.

Lightning’s voice pierced the door. “Gulfstream, that better be you, or so help me—” The door opened, and her mouth paused mid-word. “Rainbow?”

Rainbow’s expression hadn’t lost an ounce of its hardness. “Hey, LD. I—” Her words were muffled when Lightning abruptly embraced her. Her eyes went wide and her cheeks turned red. Gulfstream thought he’d be sick, so he promptly marched inside.

But he didn’t go away. He just hid himself behind the corner of the hall. He wasn’t sure Lightning even noticed him.

“Where have you been?” Lightning asked. “You said you’d come by after work today.”

Rainbow’s response came slowly, like she was thinking carefully on her words. “I decided to train. Can I come in?”

“ ‘Can I come in?’ RD, you know you don’t have to ask.” A few seconds of silence, followed by the door closing. When Lightning spoke again, it was with trepidation. “Rainbow, what’s going on?” There was a long pause. “Wait, did you see Gulfstream?”

“Look, I’ve got a problem.”

Gulfstream peeked around the corner. Rainbow was sitting before Lightning, her expression as determined as ever, her posture as stiff as rocks. Lightning, on the other hoof, was fluid in her anxiety, and looked as if she might start panicking at any moment. The sight brought that fire back in his gut, but he held back; this was between them.

“Okay.” Lightning’s voice was so quiet he barely heard it. “You’ve got a problem. I… I’ll listen, Rainbow.”

Rainbow opened her mouth, paused, closed it again. Her stony manner cracked at last, with her eyes shifting away from her marefriend. “It’s funny, I spent all that time thinking about how to say it on the way over here, but…” She sucked in a long breath. “I need to be the best.”

Lightning blinked. She cocked her head. “I don’t follow.”

“I know,” Rainbow grumbled. “Give me a sec.” She turned her grimace away, only to meet eyes with Gulfstream. They stared at one another for several seconds, and Rainbow didn’t lose that angry expression. For once, Gulfstream had no idea how to react, so he just stared right back.

She turned back to Lightning, head held high. “This has to stop.”

The change in Lightning was subtle on the outside; a catch in her breath, the slightest widening of the eyes, a sudden tenseness in the wings. Subtle, but to Gulfstream she might as well be screaming.

“W-what do you mean?”

“I mean… I’m not gonna be hanging around anymore.” Rainbow closed her eyes. The stiffness in her stance did nothing to hide the tremble of her lips. “I’ve gotta be the best, and I… can’t. Not at this. Not with you.”

Lightning leaned forward, a plea in her eyes. “The best at what? Rainbow—”

“I don’t like it either,” Rainbow snarled, pulling away when Lightning tried to move closer. “I’m supposed to be the best. I want to be the best. I should be the best. But next to you, what am I? Not even a second place. I’m a bucking sixth!”

“Sixth?” Lightning’s concern shifted to confusion. “The contest was almost two years ago now. What does it have to do with anything?”

“Everything!” Rainbow turned away, and Gulfstream backed into the hallway. “Ever since that day, I understood the difference between us. You’re better, LD. In every conceivable way, you’re better.”

Lightning at last found some energy; her next question was laced with irritation. “Is that why you’re trying to break up with me? Because I just so happen to be a slightly better athlete?”

Rainbow’s answer came quickly. “No! A-and… and yes. I have to be the best I can be just to keep up with you. Don’t get me wrong, it’s great that you’re so good, but… but I need to be better.”

A snort revealed Lightning’s growing frustration. “That’s a really stupid reason to break up with somepony.”

“I know,” Rainbow whispered. “I know it’s arrogant and… and dumb. I’m being a featherbrain. B-but, Lightning, I—”

“We’ve had one another’s backs for three years, Rainbow. Three. You think I didn’t know you were an attention hound? Do you know how hard I worked to feed that?”

“It’s not about being an attention hound!”

Gulfstream winced at his cousin’s shout. “Then what is it about, huh?”

“It’s about… I mean…”

“And do you really think I wouldn’t notice if something was wrong?” Lightning’s voice only grew louder. “The way you’ve been avoiding me? How you don’t show up when you say you will? Yet every time I try to talk about it, you dodge and stutter and go do something else. By the Sun in the sky, Rainbow, I bought this space thinking we’d be living together, and where have you been, huh?”

The doubts returned to Gulfstream’s mind as he listened to her heavy breathing. Maybe bringing Rainbow here had been a bad idea. As much as he liked to think of her squirming… Lightning had to have been holding that in for a while. If this went the wrong way… or the right way? Or…

What did he even want to happen?

He couldn’t be sure anymore.

Rainbow’s growl pulled him from his thoughts. “I know that’s what you hoped. It’s what I wanted too. But dang it, Lightning, I can’t compete with you.”

“Why is everything a competition for you? Can’t you look past it for this one thing? It’s not like this could be the most important decision of your life, y’know.”

Gulfstream peeked. He shouldn’t have, he didn't want to, but at the same time, he had to. What he saw was two full grown mares, standing apart, wings spread aggressively, and both on the verge of tears.

He really wished he hadn’t brought Rainbow home.

“You wanna know w-why I can’t look past it?” Rainbow’s voice was quiet, but the fire in her glare told of a barely-contained explosion. “You wanna know why, everytime I look at you, I feel a twist in my gut?”

Lightning snorted, steam rising from her nostrils.

Rainbow took a long breath. And another. With the third, she managed to speak. “It’s because every time I do, I realize how incredible you are. Then I realize I can’t match you. And then…” Her shoulders set, her wings stiffened. “Then I realize that I’m not good enough for you.”

Though her dark expression didn’t fade, Lightning blinked. “Good enough… for me. Is that what’s got your tail all in a knot?”

“And I’m not saddling you with a substandard marefriend.” Rainbow made for the door. “S-so that’s it. It’s done.”

But Lightning stepping into her path. “Oh, no. We aren’t done. We’re not even close to done! Don’t you think it’s up to me whether you’re good enough or not?”

“Get out of my way, LD.”

Lightning puffed out her chest and stood firm before Rainbow, her eyes offering steadfast resistance. “No. I love you, Rainbow, and I’m not letting you make this mistake.”

“No, you put up with me.” Rainbow advanced another step, lips pulled back. “Get out of my way, or I’ll make you.”

“I think we’ve already established who the stronger of us is, RD.”

Gulfstream watched, his body low and his wings wide open. He wanted to be angry; anger would be so much easier than dealing with this tension. If he could pull away from the corner and run to his room… even that cowardice would be better than watching this. His hoof came up and he began to chew on it, eyes wide and heart pounding.

The two mares just stared at one another, one puffed up and making an insurmountable obstacle, the other poised for attack. The standoff seemed to take an eternity. Gulfstream could almost feel time passing, immeasurable but grinding. He didn’t know whether to scream at them or start crying.

“I hate you.”

He gave a small gasp as Rainbow at last broke the silence.

“I love you so much I hate you,” she hissed. “You stand there and tell me what I’m gonna do, and why? Because you’re stronger than me? Well guess what, Miss Holier-Than-Thou, you just proved my point.”

Lightning said nothing, but there was a shift in her eyes. It was as clear to Gulfstream as a lighthouse in the night; uncertainty.

“You’ve gotta constantly hold my hoof,” Rainbow pressed. “’Cause I’m the ‘lesser’ of the two of us. You think you know what’s best for me. For everypony. It’s so easy when you’re on top of the gene pool, ain’t it?”

“Rainbow—”

“No.” Rainbow raised herself up to her full height, the aggression having fled from her pose… but not her eyes. “You condescending jerk. That’s how it’s always been, hasn’t it? The Best Young Fliers Competition just clarified things. Admit it, Lightning; when I failed the rainboom, you flew after me because poor, weak, feeble Dash would never get over that failure without you. You had to show up and shove your stupid face in it, just to remind me who my superior was.”

“You… I…” Lightning’s lips worked, strange sounds rising from between them. She looked so angry… but confused too.

Rainbow pressed her attack. “That’s why I hate you, you and your righteousness. For all your skills and bravado, inside you’re nothing but a snob, staring down your muzzle at us ‘lesser’ ponies and wondering whether you should deign to mingle with us today. And me? You keep me around as a joke, so that everypony who sees us will be able to recognize just how much better you are compared to them. After all, only a truly good pony would lower her standards like that, right?”

“Sh-shut up…”

“A truly superior pony, one that everypony else has no choice but to look up to. That’s what I am to you, Lightning. Well I’m sick of it. I’m sick of being the lowly sixth place you parade around for the sake of your ego. I’m done, and you can rot in Tartarus.”

Rainbow stepped around Lightning… who did nothing to stop her. Even as she walked outside and closed the door, Lightning did nothing. She stared at the empty space before her, still puffed up, anger shining from her moist eyes. Gulfstream couldn’t keep staring; he retreated back into the hallway and tried to control his panicked breaths.

There was a quiet poomph sound, like something falling on the soft cloud floor.

Then came the sobbing.

It was quiet that morning. Gulfstream hadn’t slept much at all, and when he did it he kept dreaming of Lightning and her sobs. He wished he could be mad. He should be angry. Rainbow was the one who’d been a jerk, he should be thinking about kicking her teeth out. Yet no matter how hard he tried, the frustration wouldn’t come. It made him feel weak.

So now he stood outside Lightning’s room, staring at the half-closed door and the bed he could just see at this angle. If he turned his head a little, he could see the lump under the covers. It offered not a sound; if it weren’t for the steady rise and fall of her breathing, Gulfstream might have thought her dead. He glanced at the window and the shadows that it conjured. It would be noon soon.

As hard as he fought it, he knew he would have to do something. Something hadn’t done much of anything the first time… but he still had to try, didn’t he? So, with a heavy heart, he slipped through the open door and crept up on the bed. Carefully, he reared up and looked over the side.

Lightning’s face lay on its cheek, surrounded by sheets like a turtle barely poking its head out of its shell. Her bloodshot eyes were wide open, and they fell upon him instantly. That was the only sign she’d noticed him, for her gaze remained vacant, her expression lost. The sight twisted his heart and he nearly fled the room then and there.

But he didn’t. He stared at her, wondering what she was thinking. Wondering if she was alright.

His mouth felt parched, but he still managed to squeak out, “Lightning?”

Gradually, her far off gaze shifted to something more… direct. Now she really was looking at him. Her lips gradually opened, then closed again. He saw her swallow. She spoke in a scratchy voice. “Gulfie?”

He set his chin to the cloud mattress. “Mm-hmm.”

It took time for her to speak again. “Aren’t you supposed to b-be at school?”

“Mm-hmm. Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”

Lightning didn’t answer. She merely stared… then closed her eyes. Tears fell down her cheeks.

A shudder ran through Gulfstream’s small body, and he promptly climbed onto the bed to nuzzle her. “I’m sorry, Lightning. It’s my fault and I’m sorry.”

Her legs flew out from under the covers. Before he knew it, he was held against her chest in a breath-stealing grip.

“She left me, Gulfie. Sh-she left me!”

He wanted to respond, but didn’t know how. Besides, he could barely breathe, much less talk.

Lightning set her chin atop his head as she quietly wept. “I sh-should have seen it coming. Three years, Gulfie. H-how did I miss it? Why didn’t I know how she felt?”

Gulfstream began squirming against her tightening hold. His face had probably turned blue by the time she noticed. As if his plight were a trigger, her manner went from distraught to worried. She released, and he sucked a few gasps of wonderful oxygen.

“S-sorry, Gulfie.” She sat up, rubbing her eyes. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah…” He choked and rubbed his chest. “Just… gotta… breathe for a bit.”

“Good.” And then she deflated, her head drooping and her eyes on her hooves. “M-maybe… Nevermind.”

The air finally returning to his lungs, Gulfstream leaned forward, trying to look her in the eye. “I’ll listen.”

She avoided eye contact. “You didn’t even like her.”

He wanted to deny it, just for her sake, but couldn’t. He turned away to stare at the window. The guilt wouldn’t go away. This was his fault, so he should try to fix it, right? But he never could fix things. All Gulfstream ever did was… hurt things.

“Lightning, am I a bad pony?”

“W-what? Why would you ask something like that?”

He looked up to discover that she was finally looking at him, but her alarmed, near-panicked expression didn’t help the feeling in his gut.

It was his turn to stare at his hooves. “You looked so sad yesterday. I thought, if I could bring Rainbow home, you’d be happy again. But… but you weren’t.”

“Oh…” Her words were just a whisper. “So that’s where you went.”

Was that all she had to say? Gulfstream felt moisture in his eyes. “I wanted to help. Why couldn’t I help? Why do I break everything? I’m always angry and… and mean to the other foals. I’m bad, right?”

“No…” But Lightning hesitated, and the first tear trickled down his cheek. She caught him in another tight hug. “You’re not bad, Gulfie! You’re not bad at all.”

“B-but if I hadn’t gone to get Rainbow—”

“You’re not bad!” She buried her muzzle in his mane. “I promise, Gulfie. Y-you only wanted to help. That’s the sign of a good pony. You’re good.”

“I want to be,” he whispered. “I really do. I didn’t mean for Rainbow to break up with you. I j-just wanted you to smile again, honest.”

“I know.” She kissed his forehead and rocked. “I know, Gulfie. It’s okay.”

“Is not.” He rubbed his face in her chest, his tears staining her fur. “You’re not okay. Nothing is okay.”

She chewed her lip, her chin resting on his forehead once more. “Maybe you’re right, but it’ll get b-better. I promise. We’ll get through this together, you and me.”

They remained like that for some time. Every time Gulfstream thought he would say something, his tongue would fail to work or his lips would feel strangely heavy. So he said nothing and let his dear cousin rock him back and forth. He liked it when she held him. Whether he was angry or sad, being held by her made him feel better.

For the first time in nearly a year, he thought of his mother. He remembered how she would hold him at night sometimes, like when he had bad dreams. Lightning looked nothing like her, but… but she was good like her.

“L-Lightning?”

She sniffed, her hold loosening a touch. “Mm-hmm?”

“Do you think you could… teach me? To be good?”

Lightning leaned back to study him. The fact that her tears had stopped lifted his spirits, but only a little. She examined him with a sad, soft expression, and he kept his head bowed so his wet cheeks wouldn’t be obvious.

“You’re already good, kiddo.” Then, somehow, she managed to chuckle. Patting him on the head, she added with a wry smile, “But I suppose a little improvement never hurts.”

“I don’t think I need a ‘little’ improvement,” he murmured.

Her smile became frail. After a second’s consideration, she leaned down to nuzzle him. “Alright, that’ll be our new project. We’ll work at it every day. I’m really gonna drill you, and by the time we’re done the Royal Guard’s gonna be looking up to you. Alright, soldier?”

He returned her smile, then pressed his cheek against her chest again.

“I love you, Lightning. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, I know.” She rubbed his back and leaned down to whisper in his ear. “I love you too, Gulfie. Nothing’s coming between us, you got that?

“Nothing in the world.”

Author's Notes:

I was operating under some tight deadlines with other things when I wrote this chapter. Honestly? I think it could have been better.