Rarity held three sewing pins between her teeth, her brow furrowed and damp from the job at hoof. Next to her head was a pair of hovering scissors stuck in the thick of her aura, poised to strike at the fabric on the table before her. It had been one of those mornings for the mare—one of those smooth mornings, when everything clicked right into place at just the right time.

The café around the corner hadn’t burnt her morning coffee like they sometimes did.

The rough sketches she’d created late into the evening last night still made sense even after a good night’s sleep.

All the fabrics and matching threads she needed for the new project she already had in stock and in fine supply.

So absorbed by her latest piece of work, Rarity didn’t even flinch as a large metallic bang rang clear across town—a dull thud when heard from the boutique’s second floor windows.

She did flinch, though, when her sister surprised her from the doorway.

“Hey, Rarity?” Sweetie Belle timidly asked her. “Can I talk to you for a bit? I don’t know how long I can stay, but I don’t think it’s for very long.”

Almost choking on one of the pins between her teeth, Rarity spat them out into the same aura that held her scissors and pushed her chair out from her work table.

Rarity loudly blew a curl of mane away from her eyes. “Sweetie Belle! You scared me half to death! I didn’t even hear you come inside just now.”

Sweetie Belle lightly rubbed her hoof along the floor, her head lowered. “I know I’m not supposed to be here.”

Rarity laughed lightly. “Oh, Sweetie Belle, you know you can come inside my work room anytime you like; I only prefer that when you do, I’m here too. You’d be surprised how many sharp little objects I use on my…”

Rarity lost her train of thought when she took a quick glance out the window to the side of her table—the sun’s rays still warm and bright against the thin building across the street. On the ground below and out of view, a few ponies hurriedly galloped in the direction of the noise heard only moments ago.

With a look of concern, Rarity asked her sister, “Why aren’t you at school, Sweetie Belle? You only left a few hours ago at most. Are you feeling all right?”

Rarity left her chair and approached her, noticing Sweetie Belle hadn’t moved a single inch from her position near the doorway.

Rarity lowered herself to try to meet her sister’s sight. “Did you come home early because you weren’t feeling good, Sweetie Belle? I must say, you do look a little paler than usual. Let me see how warm your forehead is.”

As Rarity took a step forward, Sweetie Belle took a step back.

“That’s all right… I… uh…” Sweetie Belle struggled to find the words, hitching in a small batch of air. “I’m… fine. I’m just fine. But that’s not what I came here to talk to you about, Rarity. School just… school got let out early. Everyone got to go home early.”

Rarity tilted her head. “Did something happen to Miss Cheerilee?”

“I… umm…” Sweetie Belle chewed on her bottom lip. “I can’t stay for long, okay? I just wanted to talk to you, before…” She finally glanced up at her sister, both of her large eyes on the verge of tears. “I just want to tell you some things. That’s it. That’s all I want to do.”

Rarity took a breath and sat on the floor in front of her, trying her best to display a warm—hopefully understanding—smile. This was something she was already quite accustomed to—something she’d experienced before and knew she’d experience again. What came to mind first was this: either one of those two bullies from Sweetie Belle’s school had said something hurtful to her or her friends again, or maybe one of the other students had told Sweetie Belle something she didn’t know how to react to.

With vivid clarity, Rarity could still remember the time a young colt had told her he liked her in that special way during recess at school, and how she then spent most of that same day’s afternoon talking with her mom about colts and stallions and just how impossible it was to understand them.

In Rarity’s mind, all it boiled down to was this:

Right now, her younger sister wanted to talk. And right now, that big sister had to listen.

Sweetie Belle, still huddled close to the door, blinked away a tear while her mouth worked away on words that never came to be.

In a hushed tone, Rarity tried to prod her along. “Did someone say something about cutie marks again?”

Sweetie Belle shook her head. “No… it’s nothing like that… really, it’s—”

“Was it another student in class? A colt, perhaps?”

“No.”

“Did you get in trouble for something? Did you forget about a test today, perhaps?”

“No. No! It’s nothing like that!”

Sweetie Belle took a tentative step towards her, stopping just out of leg’s reach. “It’s not about me, Rarity. Honestly. I don’t want to talk about me. It’s about you, and… I only… I just want you to know much I love you.”

Rarity smiled, a bit of heat behind both eyes. “Oh… that’s very nice to hear, Sweetie Belle. I love you, too. With all my heart.” She held a leg out to her side, motioning for her sister to come to her.

Sweetie Belle regarded the leg dismally and instead took a step away from her.

“Is that all you wanted to tell—” Rarity began.

“And that I think you’re the best sister in the world!” Sweetie Belle exclaimed overtop of her, almost as if the words had to be screamed aloud before they got stuck in her throat. “And… and I wanted to thank you for… for all the things you taught me… and for looking out for me… and for telling me that cutie marks weren’t everything in the world, because they aren’t.” She hitched in a tiny breath. “And I need to tell you that you’re going to be okay and that now it’s my turn to look out for you and that everything will work out fine. And if anyone asks, you can tell them that I love them just as much as I love you.”

Rarity got to her legs as she felt something tighten in her chest.

She licked her suddenly dry lips. “What in Equestria is going on, Sweetie Belle? Why are you talking this way? If something’s happened, you can tell me and whatever it is I promise I’ll try and help fix it. If you did something bad, I promise I won’t get mad.”

Sweetie Belle sniffled and stared at her hooves. “I don’t think I’m supposed to be here.”

“Rarity! Are you in here?” Twilight Sparkle called from somewhere by the bottom of the stairs.

Rarity turned to the source of the noise, speaking more to herself, “Twilight? She never said she’d be stopping by today.” She then explained to Sweetie Belle, “Let me quickly see what she wants and then you and I will talk some more.”

When she went to open up the door, Sweetie Belle left a wide gap between her sister and her, almost colliding with the wall. Now she stood by the back of Rarity’s work room, in the center of the sun’s rays that still shined in through the window.

“I’m upstairs, Twilight!” Rarity shouted from the doorway.

“I told you I couldn’t stay for long…” Sweetie Belle started delicately.

Rarity took a second to look away from the door and to her sister sitting on the floor, staring back at her.

Sweetie Belle gave her one of her usual big smiles—the large, leaking eyes above it giving off a completely different message.

She eventually said, “… but I really have to go. I love you, Rarity.”

Rarity held up a leg. “Sweetie… I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but everything’s fine, everything’s—”

“Rarity…”

Rarity whirled around and found Twilight standing in the hall, her ears pressed flat against her skull. By her side stood Applejack, her hat pinned to her chest by one of her legs.

Twilight’s eyes were glossy; her voice quivering and barely above a whisper. “Rarity… something’s happened near the school. There was an accident during recess… some construction was being done on a house near the playground and Sweetie Belle and her friends had gone over there to watch and a cable snapped and… and…”

Applejack took a heavy step towards her. “Sweetie Belle’s been taken to the hospital—we’re supposed to get you there as soon as we can, but… I’m so, so sorry, Rarity.”

Rarity looked from one friend to the next—that same tightness in her chest traveling down towards her stomach, where it began twisting her guts into a knot.

“Sweetie Belle?” she mumbled, a hint of faintness to her voice, almost as though it weren’t even her that had actually spoken the words to begin with. “But she’s right here. She came home early. Only a few minutes ago.”

Rarity went back into her room and found no sister on the floor.

Her eyes darted from one corner of the room to the next.

“Sweetie Belle? Where’d you go? It’s only Twilight and Applejack here.”

First searching underneath her cluttered work table, Rarity then went to her closet and began empting it of its half-finished works and spools of old threads. When she managed to touch all four corners of the closet and floor, she exited from it to stand in the very center of the room and breath.

Cautiously, Applejack approached. “Sweetie Belle couldn’t have been here. She’s at the hospital right now and we’re supposed to get you—”

Twilight stopped her friend with a hoof to the shoulder.

She hesitated, before asking, “Rarity, what did Sweetie Belle do while she was here?”

Through blurry vision, Rarity glimpsed the first of many tears fall to the floor next to her hoof.

“She told me that she couldn’t stay for long.”

Author's Notes:

This story exists for a couple of reasons. Firsty, due to eLLen's "I Think I Died Today" story which I actually haven't read yet. What I did read, though, were the comments surrounding it and how people were bummed that the title wasn't more literal about what the story contained within.

The idea of someone dying and being able to talk with someone before they left sounded like a great idea to me. So I waited for someone to do just that. Thus far, I haven't seen it. Maybe someone did. Maybe I just didn't notice. Moving on...

I left what Sweetie Belle says as rather rushed and vague for a couple of reasons too. First: she's still a filly. Second: if you had just two minutes to tell someone goodbye, you'd probably have trouble finding the right words or even keeping composure without freaking them out completely. Also, there's a time crunch and you yourself have no real good idea why you'd been given a chance to say a few final words to someone in the first place. (Sadly, real life is a lot different from movies where beautifully written monologues just wait to be read aloud.)

Another reason for this story: you've all had too much comedy from me lately. About time for something feelsy.

Anywho, thanks for reading. See you next story.