Author's Notes:

I had some fun with the joke about Sour Sweet thinking Santa intentionally threw a candy cane at her head in the last story, but decided to try to be more realistic and dramatic with her occasional blurred reality with this one.

As always, when Sour Sweet’s dialogue is presented in italics she’s sweet, in bold she’s sour, and in plain type she’s normal.

To be able to attend the exclusive Crystal Prep Academy, a small amount of money is involved. Okay, a LOT of money. One must be of at least an upper middle class family, which is where both you and your girlfriend, Sour Sweet hail from. Sunny Flare’s family, on the other hand, is L-O-A-D-E-D, and with ridiculous monetary privilege comes extraordinary toga parties.

You and Sour Sweet present your invitations to the butler standing at the door and are allowed in. DJ Lemon Zest’s music welcomes you both to the festivities where virtually all of the Shadowbolts are gathered in the mansion’s grand ballroom. If it wasn’t for the modern tunes, you would almost swear you just went back in time to ancient Athens. White fabric, sandals, and laurel leaves are as far as the eye can see.

Of course, you and Sour Sweet are no exceptions. Back at your house, when the two of you posed in front of the mirror to see how you looked, Sour Sweet commented,

“It’s like we’re a Philosopher and an Amazon Princess! While you’re overthinking life, I’m plotting your castration!”

Surrounding the ballroom are numerous paintings on display on tripod stands. They all portray scenes of ancient Greek life, deities, and even mythological creatures. You admire the monsters in particular and wonder if Equestria has any centaurs or manticores roaming around. Oh, how the imagination boggles when you find out that there’s a whole magical world just a portal open away…

“All we need now is an authentic, ancient Olympics going on here,” you remark.

Sugarcoat suddenly pops out of nowhere right beside you. “An authentic, ancient Olympics would be really awkward considering that they were only played by male athletes who were completely naked.”

“Yeah, honey, drop that toga and give us girls a good game,” Sour Sweet teases you, adding a bit of sultriness to her sweetness.

You blush and laugh. You and Sour Sweet may tease each other a lot, but the truth is that there hasn’t been any actual sex in your relationship yet. She has never brought it up and you would never want to be one of those boyfriends who would put the pressure on for it. In fact, one of the first things you did when you began dating Sour Sweet was to do research online about having relationships with those afflicted with schizophrenia. The most common advice listed was patience, which you’ve tried your best to uphold in all circumstances with her.

According to your reading, many with schizophrenia don’t even pursue romantic relationships, among the reasons being high anxiety. Perhaps that’s Sour Sweet’s obstacle when it comes to sex. Even with healthy minds, revealing one’s physique to another, much less the sexual contact can be a nightmare to the nerves. After all, you remember how hard it was to convince her that just her face was pretty. How long would it take you to convince her that her whole bare body was beautiful?

The blare of a horn captures everyone’s attention towards the staircase, where a butler with the instrument is positioned at the bottom of.

“Ladies and gentlemen, presenting Miss Sunny Flare!” the butler announces, holding his hand up.

Down the steps, Sunny Flare descends with her body graced with a flowing white dress, overlaid by a golden breastplate with helmet to match, a spear in one hand and a shield in the other, all of which are obviously designed to be more lightweight and stylish than battle-functional. With the dignified expression and poise she’s putting on, she certainly resembles a real life goddess Athena.

She reaches the bottom and is immediately mobbed by admirers wanting a better look at her costume attire.

“Figures the attention whore would make a grand entrance,” a slurred voice is suddenly overheard by you, Sour Sweet, and Sugarcoat.

The three of you immediately look back at the source of that insult: Gilda. She’s unmistakably intoxicated, a beer bottle in her hand, and her body swaying slightly side-to-side in place. She also happens to be right beside one of the paintings depicting a gryphon, which for some reason to you looks only fitting.

“Excuse you, Gilda, but that’s our friend you’re talking about!” Sour Sweet growls.

“Where did you get that beer?” Sugarcoat inquires.

“Ha, got it in right past the stupid butlers!” Gilda happily answered, waving the bottle around triumphantly. Considering how drunk she is, it’s more than likely that she already had several besides the one she has now before even coming to the party.

“Sunny Flare’s parents are going to be very mad that you sneaked alcohol into their home if they find out,” Sugarcoat points out.

“Queen Lame-o’s fuddy duddy parents can get their panties in a twist if they want,” Gilda says. She throws her head back to laugh, but almost loses her balance in the process. She then looks straight at you. “You don’t think I give a damn, do you, cutie?”

“Watch who you’re calling ‘cutie’, DRUNKARD!” Sour Sweet snaps.

Gilda smirks and holds her hands up innocently. “Hey, I’m not trying to steal anybody away from anybody. I’m sure I couldn’t compete with the amount of action you must be giving him to stick around, anyway.”

Sour Sweet’s teeth grit. “And what do you mean by THAT?”

“Oh please, Sour Sweet, with your illness, the only possible reason that any guy would be with you would be the promise of plentiful pussy.”

You look over to see Sour Sweet’s furious face slowly dropping as those words seem to sink in.

Enraged, you find yourself yelling at Gilda, “THAT’S NOT TRUE!”

Gilda’s momentarily surprised by that type of outburst coming from a normally shy guy such as you, but then smirks once again. “Come on, dweeb, and tell us how much you’re getting off schizo slut right there!”

“Don’t you dare call her a slut, Gilda,” you warn, glaring at her with pure rage.

Gilda’s eyebrow lifts with sudden suspicion. “Wait a minute… you’re seriously not getting ANY, are you?!” Gilda bursts out laughing. “Oh Sour Sweet, at least suck your own boyfriend off every once in a while, sheesh! I bet he’s ready to dump you anytime now for someone who WILL give up the ass! Jeez, you’re totally going to die alone in a mental hospital at this rate!”

Your fists clench, but hearing the short, sudden breath of a sob makes your head shoot over. Green mascara runs down Sour Sweet’s moist cheeks as her lips tremble.

If all the yelling didn’t catch everyone’s attention in the ballroom, the unexpected sound of Sour Sweet crying sure does now. Sunny Flare rips herself away from her admirers, the music stops as Lemon Zest abandons her DJ booth, and Indigo Zap runs over from her sports teammates who she had been hanging out with. The three girls join Sugarcoat at Sour Sweet’s side to comfort her.

“What happened?” Sunny Flare asks.

You point. “Gilda happened.”

Sunny Flare angrily stomps over and gets right into Gilda’s face. “You are NOT welcome in my home anymore! Leave.”

Gilda shrugs and rolls her eyes. “Whatever. I’ve had enough of this dweeb-fest anyway.”

She turns to go, but staggers right into the gryphon painting and knocks it off its stand and onto the floor.

“Dumb bird thing,” Gilda mutters before making her exit.

With Gilda gone, every eye in the entire ballroom is then on Sour Sweet in your arms, her head buried into your shoulder while you lightly stroke her hair in a futile effort to settle her down.

****************

It’s lunchtime at Crystal Prep Academy, however the events of the previous night hasn’t lifted from anyone’s memory. Sour Sweet sits silently, staring down at and fiddling with her food with her fork, as you and the girls watch with sympathy.

You certainly feel like a failure. Nothing you said or did last night could make her stop crying. You took her home where she eventually tired herself out and fell asleep. You tucked her into bed and gave her a good night kiss on the forehead. When the sun came up, you sent her a “good morning” text but she never answered it, neither by phone or in person when she showed up for school.

A frustrated groan from Indigo Zap finally breaks the depressing mood.

“Sour Sweet, get it together, girl!” she demands. “You’re not going to let someone like Gilda bother you, are you?”

“Yeah, dude, you got it way better than her,” Lemon Zest chimes in. “She can’t say she has four amazing best friends like us, can she?”

“Not to mention a devoted and handsome boyfriend,” Sunny Flare adds, giving you a teasing nudge.

Sour Sweet’s eyes lift up at that last comment. Taking notice, Sunny Flare waves her hands upwards to the others as a “keep this going” signal.

“Uh, oh yeah, you got the cream of the crop of boyfriends as far as I’m concerned!” Indigo Zap states, giving Sour Sweet a wink.

“Out of all the guys here at Crystal Prep, he’s certainly among the least detestable,” Sugarcoat dryly notes.

“I wish I could find a dude half as good as you got, Sour Sweet!” Lemon Zest declares.

The sound of Sour Sweet’s hands slamming onto the table startles the whole cafeteria.

“IF THE FOUR OF YOU LOVE HIM SO MUCH, THEN YOU CAN HAVE HIM!!!” Sour Sweet screams before storming off.

“Sour Sweet, wait, we were just trying to make you feel better!” Sunny Flare calls after her, but to no avail.

****************

Of all the places Sour Sweet could have gone, you know her well enough to be at the archery range behind Crystal Prep. There she is, of course, firing arrows at a circular target as she regularly does for practice or just to simply pass some time.

She notices your approach and flashes you a bright smile. Wait… a smile? She couldn’t have actually gotten over everything this fast, could she?

You then abruptly freeze for a moment as you notice that the target has dozens of arrows sticking up from the ground all around it. Not a single one is embedded within the circle. An expert archer such as Sour Sweet firing that much and not hitting her target even once? If this isn’t a bad sign, you have no idea what is.

“Hey, Sour, are you alright?”

“I’m just as peachy keen as always!” Sour Sweet spouts cheerfully.

She takes another shot. Yet again, she misses.

“Okay, um, that’s good to hear,” you say, still not convinced.

“So, what about you? Have you picked one out yet?”

“Uh, what do you mean, Sour? Pick what out?”

“One of my friends. Which one are you going to start dating?”

Your mouth drops. “Sour Sweet, what are you talking about?!”

“They’re all fine choices. Sunny Flare’s so fashionable and elegant she would make you great arm candy everywhere you go. Indigo Zap has that toned athletic body of hers that I’m sure you wouldn’t mind rubbing your hands all over. Lemon Zest is such a party animal who you wouldn’t ever have a dull moment with. And, Sugarcoat. Oh, Sugarcoat! You know, she always makes it seem as if she’s all about brains and coldness, but I bet you anything she has a DIRTY FREAK buried somewhere deep inside that she can’t wait to unleash upon you!”

“Sour Sweet, I don’t want to date one of your friends.”

She rolls her eyes. “So, going the HAREM route, I see?”

“NO! I don’t want to date ANY of them, Sour Sweet!”

“WELL, THEY CERTAINLY WANT TO TAKE YOU AWAY FROM ME!!!”

She furiously takes a shot. Yet another arrow stabs the ground. You suddenly realize how much this is a reflection of her situation right now. Her mind is definitely not on target.

You gently put your hand on her shoulder. “Sour Sweet, look at me. No, they don’t. Your head is making things up. Remember how much they care about you.”

Sour Sweet stares at you until reality finally sets back in for her.

Her head lowers. “You should date my friends. None of them need lithium pills for mood swings and delusions.”

“Sour Sweet, I love you and I’ve told you a million times the reasons why I do. Don’t you believe them?”

“Yes, I believe them,” she sighs. “I guess that I just don’t understand them.”

“You don’t have to understand them, just please accept the fact that I love you.”

“But… Gilda –”

“You shouldn’t take anything Gilda said seriously! She was drunk and even if she wasn’t it still would have been stupid!”

Sour Sweet stares at the ground. “So I’m not going to die alone in a mental hospital?”

“Of course not.”

“And you won’t leave me because I haven’t been fooling around with you?”

“I won’t leave you for any reason.”

There is a long silence before Sour Sweet finally looks back up at you. “But you would want to have sex with me, right?”

You blush. “Well, uh…” you manage before giving an awkward, but honest nod.

Sour Sweet scowls and crosses her arms. “Well, you ARE just a dumb, hormonal BOY after all…” A blush then permeates her face as she adds with a soft, “… but maybe I could be a little more considerate of your needs, though.”

You give her a serious and earnest look. “Sour Sweet, I don’t want to force you into any –”

You suddenly pause as you see her arms uncross and her shaking hands lower. Her fingers reach the hem of the plaid skirt of her uniform and pinch it. You stare captivated as she slowly and nervously lifts the cloth up to reveal her pure white panties to you.

After a moment of shock and arousal, you glace back up to Sour Sweet’s face. It’s a hotbed of that heart-melting Sour Sweet bashfulness you've come to adore. She then grows a smile, clearly proud of herself for overcoming enough anxiety to accomplish this one, simple gesture for you. You smile back. You are proud of her, too.

She forces her skirt back down.

“That’s all you’re going to get…” she declares before softly adding, “… for now.”

You pull her into a loving hug. “That was good enough for me, Sour Sweet. Thank you.”

“I guess I should apologize to everyone for being such a downer.”

“Sour Sweet, you have absolutely nothing to apologize for.”

You two break the hug and stare deeply into each other’s eyes.

Suddenly, Sour Sweet gives you a naughty smirk. “You know, it’s only fair that you show me your underpants now. Come on and show mama the GOODS!”

THE END