...But It Often Rhymes

by Posh

First published 1st of September, 2017

For four years, Sunset Shimmer has carried a torch for Miss Cheerilee, and for four years, she's struggled to look at her without thinking of the one who got away.

For four years, Sunset Shimmer has carried a torch for Miss Cheerilee, and for four years, she's struggled to look at her without thinking of the one who got away.

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First place in the Changing Seasons Sunset Shipping Contest!

Pre-read by Majin Syeekoh, and edited by AndrewRogue

Art by LeekFish, used with permission

Dimples and Diamonds

Author's Notes:

“History doesn’t repeat itself, but it often rhymes.” -Various

The first time Sunset sees her is in an underground nightclub. Moon Tea's always trying to drag her to places like this, and, for once, Sunset doesn't have an excuse to beg out.

The atmosphere is dense and heavy, warmer than the balmy summer air above ground. Clouds of conjured fog roll across the dance floor as multicolored lights blink out of sequence from an overhang. Bass-heavy synth music whines throughout the room.

Sunset wants to leave, but Moon Tea drags her onto the dance floor. Moonie dances, and Sunset awkwardly tries to catch the rhythm.

Then the crowd around the middle of the dance floor parts. Sunset spots a curvy, magenta filly throwing herself around in time with the beat and tossing her frizzy pink mane as she loses herself in the music. Her braces catch the glow from the lights, sparkling like diamonds set in white stone.

Sunset stares – she can't help but stare, because this filly is the most magnificent thing she's ever glimpsed. She gulps when the filly notices and turns a diamond-studded grin on her. Sunset averts her eyes, and they find Moonie's; those big bushy orange caterpillars that she calls eyebrows are wiggling the way they do whenever there's mischief on her mind.

Moonie's rump collides with Sunset's, and she stumbles into the empty space on the dance floor, smacking into the filly with the gleaming grin. Sunset babbles an apology, and tries to stagger away—

A hoof catches hers and spins her around until they're face to face. "Stick around," the filly calls over the pounding music.

Sunset's eyes are wide. "I can't dance," she tries to say, but she can't form words, not while she's staring into those gorgeous green eyes. She won't let go, and Sunset realizes she doesn't want her to let go.

The filly's limbs pick up the beat again; her body begins to move. Her hoof never leaves Sunset's, and through that contact, Sunset finds the beat. Her movements are awkward and ungainly; she doesn't care. All that matters is the music, and that mouthful of diamonds, and those eyes, eyes she could lose herself in...

She gets the filly's name before the night is over, with Moonie smugly watching. Sunset says it to herself, over and over again, on her way back to the castle, and it rolls off her tongue with lyrical grace.

Cheerilee. Cheerilee. Cheerilee.

Sunset never tires of it.

Sunset finds Miss Cheerilee hunched over her desk, a pile of papers towering over her head. Her purple pen scratches vigorously upon a student essay in front of her, almost in harmony with the piano music from her old CD player. A taut frown pulls at the corners of her mouth, but at the the sound of Sunset's knuckles on the door and the sight of her waving from the hallway, she brightens. There's a glint in Miss Cheerilee's eye as her lips turn upward, pulling back to bare her radiant white teeth.

Sunset tries not to envision Miss Cheerilee with braces.

"Come on in!" Miss Cheerilee clicks her pen and beckons Sunset inside. "I wasn't expecting to see anyone from your class today. Don't you all have the day off?"

"Unofficially," Sunset says, hugging a thick sheaf of papers. "I think all the seniors cut class to prep for the prom tonight. Looks like most of the school followed suit."

Miss Cheerilee chuckles and shakes her head. "Where the seniors go, so goes the nation."

"I mean, we did turn fake pony ears and tails into a school-wide fashion trend, so it's not like there's no precedent." Sunset nods at the work on Miss Cheerilee's desk. "You look like you're busy, though. If I'm interrupting—"

Miss Cheerilee blows a raspberry and waves Sunset's question off. "I've been at this since eight, and I've barely made a dent. Trust me, you're a wonderful and welcome diversion."

"Heh. You're gonna make me blush." Sunset steps up to the desk, standing still while Miss Cheerilee examines the sheaf of papers in her arms.

"Is that what I think it is?" says Miss Cheerilee, her voice quavering with excitement.

"As promised!" Sunset can't stop herself from grinning back as Miss Cheerilee reaches out to her. She drops the papers in her teacher's arms; Miss Cheerilee sags under their weight, but wears that delighted look regardless.

"You absolute madwoman! And I thought you couldn't possibly be serious when you said you'd prepare a fully annotated bibliography for your final project!" The papers thud when Miss Cheerilee drops them on her desk. "Just how big is this?"

Sunset's grin widens. "Sixty pages."

Miss Cheerilee balks. "That must have taken weeks! When did you have time to actually work on the project? When did you have time to sleep?"

Sunset brushes her chest with her knuckles. "Who says I slept at all?"

Miss Cheerilee shakes her head, laughing incredulously. "You little overachiever, you."

"AP classes deserve AP effort. And a promise is a promise." If Sunset's being honest with herself, then that's not why she went to the lengths she did. It's that look on Miss Cheerilee's face, that dimpled grin that sets Sunset's heart fluttering. "Although I hate to give you more work to worry about, when you have so much on your plate."

"Oh, it's no bother. I've already submitted grades for your class. " Miss Cheerilee pats the tower of papers gently, taking care not to tip it over. "These are all from my freshmen and sophomores. All you've done is given me something to look forward to – a little pleasure reading, once the rest of my classes are squared away."

That Miss Cheerilee would consider sixty pages of a completely optional annotated bibliography for a college-level research project to be 'pleasure reading' comes as no surprise to Sunset. The complement, however, catches her off guard.

She swallows. "I guess you've got me there, Miss Cheerilee."

"'Miss Cheerilee,'" the teacher echoes. "You know you don't have to call me that, right? I officially stopped being your teacher... oh, about twenty-four hours ago, actually. Just my name is fine – no 'Miss.'"

A chill climbs Sunset's spine. "You don't think that's a little... familiar?"

"I don't mind if you don't."

"...Cheerilee, then." It's been such a long time since she's said that name without the title; it rolls off her tongue differently. Yet it feels right, and that realization troubles Sunset. "I don't know if I can get used to saying that."

"I don't know if I can get used to hearing it. I get called 'Miss Cheerilee' so often that, sometimes, I feel like that's my full name. But I'll make an effort if you do." Cheerilee rests her hand on Sunset's paperwork. "I'm glad you came by today, you know."

Sunset coughs and pulls a lock of hair over her cheek, trying to hide a blush. "You, um, must've really wanted to get your hands on that bibliography."

"I did, as a matter of fact. But I'd have been glad to see you regardless." There's a pause, underscored by the gentle tinkling of the piano from the CD player. "I wanted a chance to tell you how happy I am to have had you for your final year. You brought a... a very different dynamic to the classroom than you did as a freshman and a sophomore."

Sunset's grip tightens on her hair. "Is that a polite way of saying I'm not as big a pain in the ass as I used to be?"

Cheerilee reaches over to her CD player and stops the current track. "I mean to say that, up until this past year, you've always been different on paper than in person. You're witty and incisive in your writing; you have been since you were a freshman. But this is the first year I've ever seen you lend that wit and incisiveness to class time, too. You didn't just participate. You led, and you brought a lot to the table."

"If only you could zap every problem student with a magical rainbow, huh?" Sunset means it playfully, but it seems to cut Cheerilee – she smiles, but her eyes are sad.

"Please don't sell yourself short," says Cheerilee in a soft voice. "However they started, the changes you've made came from within you. This year has been an unusual one – albeit my best since I started teaching – and your whole class has been part of that. But you, especially, made the life of this old schoolmarm a little brighter just by being in it. I'll miss that brightness that you brought to class."

She pauses, and folds her hands on the papers. Pale green eyes stare levelly into Sunset's.

"No, that's not quite right. I'll miss you, Sunset Shimmer."

Sunset almost laughs at the old schoolmarm bit. Cheerilee can't be older than thirty – a year past Sunset, by Equestrian standards, and eleven by those of the human world. But the rest of the compliments fill Sunset with warmth, and there's no hiding her blush this time.

"I don't know how to respond to that, exactly," Sunset says, speaking past a lump in her throat. "But you're welcome. I'm happy we got to know each other a little bit this year."

Part of her wishes they could have gotten to know each other more.

Instead of voicing that thought, Sunset takes a step back and glances toward the open door. "The morning's kinda getting away from me. I should probably—"

"Yes, I understand." Cheerilee gives Sunset another sad-eyed look. "I suppose this is goodbye, then."

"Doesn't have to be." Sunset links her hands behind her back. "You chaperoning the prom?"

"I am."

"Then we'll see each other there, won't we?"

Cheerilee makes a face. "I'd hate to distract you from your date..."

"Can't distract me if I don't have a date, can you?" Sunset pumps her arm and laughs weakly. "It's still socially acceptable to go to these things stag, right?"

Cheerilee's mouth opens, but whatever comment she's about to make dies on her lips. Instead, she clicks her pen open and, with some effort, pushes Sunset's annotated bibliography aside. "Then I'll see you tonight, Sunset."

"Right back at you, Miss—" Sunset pauses to clear her throat. "I mean... Cheerilee."

Cheerilee's expression is patient and understanding as she sets to work again. Sunset allows herself to stare, just for a moment, before leaving the classroom behind.

Tears and Autumn

Sunset isn't used to a place where the seasons don't change by unicorn magic. She adjusts to Ponyville quickly, though, for Cheerilee's sake. It's her hometown, and she's eager to share it with Sunset at autumn, to gallop alongside her in the Running of the Leaves.

They're off quickly, with a stampede of ponies, through the Whitetail Woods. Their thundering hooves knock the leaves from their trees. Fiery snowflakes drift from skeletal branches, carpeting the earth in red and gold, and lapping like tongues of flame at the legs of passing ponies.

Sunset and Cheerilee are left in the dust.

Sunset's no athlete; she's honed her mind at the expense of her body, and the effort of keeping pace with Cheerilee quickly exhausts her. Eventually she collapses on a pile of leaves off the road, apologizing, and urges Cheerilee to go on without her.

Then she notices how lathered with sweat Cheerilee, how heavily her body heaves with gasps of breath. For the first time, Sunset realizes that it's Cheerilee who's been struggling to keep pace with her.

Grinning, Sunset gathers a bundle of leaves in a glowing red sheath, and flings them at Cheerilee. Cheerilee responds with a predatory look, and leaps on top of Sunset. They roll about, grappling and laughing, the leaves cushioning their bodies and crunching with their motions. Dirt and leaf-bits cling to their sticky, sweaty coats.

Minutes pass, and they wear themselves out. Sunset lies on her back, catching her breath, and almost jumps as Cheerilee nuzzles her neck. Her cheek comes to rest below Sunset's throat; her mane tickles Sunset's chin.

"I'm glad you came out here with me," Cheerilee murmurs into Sunset's coat.

"I think someone spiked the punch," Twilight calls out over Vinyl Scratch's cacophonous dance mix.

Sunset sets her cup on the table in front of her, frowning, and almost challenges Twilight. But the punch does taste a little off. There's a subtle hint of something strong beneath the cloying sweetness of the brew.

Then she casts a look around the gym. As the night has progressed, the behavior of the seniors has grown wilder, their dance moves sloppier, and couples with hands already prone to roaming are allowing themselves to roam more freely. But it's been such a gradual change that Sunset hadn't even noticed until Twilight brought it up.

The thought makes her snicker.

"What?" Twilight calls, leaning closer to Sunset. "What are you laughing at?"

"Just thinking," Sunset says into Twilight's ear. "If you're right, then the difference between a drunken CHS dance and a sober one is razor-thin."

Twilight gigglesnorts. "It's pretty easy to tell, actually – you just gotta know who to look at."

She directs Sunset's attention to the far end of the room, where Applejack is sandwiched between Rainbow Dash and Rarity. Rainbow's grinding her butt against Applejack's hip, and Rarity's laughing as she squishes her bust against Applejack's shoulder, while Applejack stares at her drink in bemusement. At a table nearby, Pinkie's weaving confetti through Fluttershy's hair, and Fluttershy appears to be making a bird's nest out of the pieces that fall out.

Sunset almost laughs again, until she spots Flash and Muffins locked in an incongruously tranquil slow-dance against the beat of Vinyl Scratch's music. They rub their noses together and giggle as they lean in close for a chaste kiss.

She sighs inwardly when she feels Twilight's hand on hers. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I'm happy he found someone."

She means it wholeheartedly, too.

Then a green-haired boy in a dapper tuxedo approaches from the direction of the restrooms. Sunset points him out to Twilight with a grin.

Speaking of finding someone.

Twilight rises and tries to smooth out her dress, but Timber catches her hands and pecks her on the nose. "Hey, none of that," he says. "Wrinkles are in this season."

"Listen to him, Twilight," Sunset adds. "He clearly knows a thing or two about style. I mean, he had the sense to ditch the hat before showing up."

"You joke, but the school actually made me sign a form saying that I wouldn't wear my hat, per the dress code. That's on top of all the paperwork I had to do just to show up. Bunch of fascists." Timber snorts, then glances at Sunset's half-full solo cup. "You girls might want to avoid that punch. I think it's been spiked."

Twilight mouths "told you so" to Sunset before turning back to Timber. "We'll be alright. Sunset's got a pretty high tolerance—"

"All ex-hooligans do," Sunset adds, taking a sip.

"And I've barely touched the stuff! Even if I did indulge myself, it's like, pfft, I inhale stronger chemicals than this all the time." Twilight finishes with a firm nod.

Sunset feels a connection with Timber that she hadn't know was there as they both give Twilight the same incredulous look.

"In my lab, I mean." Twilight blushes. "When I'm, you know, doing science. And purely by accident!"

"Yeah, I totally feel you." Timber winks and backs toward the dance floor, pulling Twilight with him. "Sunset, you mind if I borrow Heisenberg here for a little while?"

Twilight punches Timber on the arm, her face halfway between annoyance and amusement, and Sunset laughs, waving them away. She watches as the happy couple slip into the throng of dancing teenagers. Twilight's herky-jerky moves make her princess doppelganger's pony-stomping look like the swan-like cavorting of a ballerina, but Timber stares at her adoringly, and tries his best to keep up.

Sunset sighs.

She doesn't particularly mind being single; there's a certain contentment that comes from it. Maybe it's the events of that morning, though, or the sight of Flash kissing his new girlfriend, or the old memories that keep resurfacing – it could also be the punch, come to think of it.

But it's hard to look at Twilight and Timber, and ignore how alone she is.

She drains the rest of her drink, wishing for once that she had a slightly weaker tolerance, and winces as a particularly heavy bass line drops.

If Vinyl cranks that any higher, she'll blow out every window in the building...

Sunset people-watches for a little while, letting her gaze wander around the crowd. Her classmates writhe and gyrate on the dance floor, or chat along the edges of the room; they grope, they cuddle, they nuzzle and kiss. Sunset wonders where the chaperones are, and a glance at her empty cup makes her wonder why the dance hasn't been shut down yet. Surely, someone's noticed the spiked punch besides Twilight and Timber.

She gets a partial answer to one of those questions when she spots a particular chaperone making her way toward the gym's back exit. Cheerilee's nice blue blouse and black skirt are downright extravagant, compared to what she usually wears to work, but they're easily outshone by the fancy dresses and tuxedos of Sunset's classmates. But now that she's seen her, Sunset only has eyes for her; the dancegoers are forgotten as Cheerilee slips out the back door, unnoticed by anyone else.

Compelled by a pang of worry, Sunset gathers her things – the green shawl that matches her shoulderless dress, and her purse – and rises from the table. She's dizzier than she thought she'd be; the punch hit her harder than Twilight would've guessed. But she manages to make it to the exit, keeping to the edges of the gym, and follows Cheerilee outside.

Freed from the cauldron of heat and hormones, the muffled music pounding from behind the heavy metal doors, Sunset takes a long, relieved breath. In front of her is Cheerilee; her back is to Sunset, her head is bowed, and her hand is pressed to her forehead. Sunset hears heavy sighs and sniffles.

She steals up on Cheerilee as stealthily as one can whilst tipsy and in stilettos, slips off the shawl, and drapes it over the older woman's shoulders. Cheerilee stirs, raising her head slightly and looking herself over. She spins and sees Sunset, and for a moment, excitement chases away her tears. Then she straightens, and her face shifts into a more neutral expression, offset by her sticky cheeks and reddened eyes.

"You should stay bundled up," Sunset says. "It's chilly out here."

"Don't you need this, though?" Even as she says it, Cheerilee's pulling the shawl tighter. "You're more exposed than me without it."

Sunet wraps her arms around herself as a breeze whispers past her bare shoulders. "I'm okay, honestly. Besides, it looks better on you."

It really doesn't. Cheerilee probably knows as well as Sunset how badly the shawl clashes with the rest of her outfit, but she keeps it at Sunset's insistence. "What brings you out here?" she asks, her fingers idly stroking the green fabric. "I thought you'd be inside, enjoying yourself. It's a big night for you all, isn't it?"

"It is." A dozen witty remarks flit through Sunset's mind. She decides to be genuine instead. "But I saw you walk out of the gym by yourself, and I was a little worried. Still am, by the way. Maybe more so."

Cheerilee sniffles, then chuckles darkly. "Caught the waterworks, huh? It's the stupid punch. The rest of the chaperones are all drunk, too, but they locked themselves in the teacher's lounge to sing karaoke. I just got all... weepy. Because alcohol makes me weepy. Or it makes me think about things I don't want to think about, and then I get weepy."

There's a beat before Cheerilee catches herself. Her eyes widen, and she cringes and curses. "I didn't mean to say that."

"Thinking about... what?" Sunset cocks her head. "Why are you crying?"

"It's nothing. Forget I said anything. This is stupid. It's selfish, and unbecoming." Cheerilee casts her gaze at the ground and tries to brush past Sunset, back into the gym. "I should just go home, and sleep this off, and—"

Sunset catches her elbow, and pulls her to a stop. Cheerilee turns her head slightly, and looks Sunset in the eye; their faces are inches apart. Sunset can smell the punch on Cheerilee's breath, the fruity scent tinged faintly with whatever got added to the bowl. She's positive her own breath smells the same.

Something compels her to lean closer.

Sunset fights the urge – she chalks it up to the punch – and takes a step back instead. But her hand doesn't leave Cheerilee's arm, and she can feel the teacher shaking as her eyes well with tears again.

"I take it back," says Sunset. "You don't have to tell me what's wrong if you don't want to. But I don't think you should be alone if you're this upset."

Cheerilee gapes at her, stammering. Then she scoffs and wipes at her eyes with the back of her wrist. "This is your night. You should be with your girls, having fun. Not outside, in the cold, with a weepy schoolteacher."

"What if I told you that this is where I want to be?" Sunset hesitates. "I feel like you need someone right now. And I can't leave a friend in need."

A guarded smile breaks across Cheerilee's face. "Friend in need?"

"Which part are you confused about? You're in need, and you're not my weepy schoolteacher anymore." Sunset pulls closer to Cheerilee, looping their arms together. "If you really wanna go home, I won't stop you. But maybe you should sober up a bit first, y'know?"

Cheerilee scowls. "I'm not that drunk."

"Err on the side of caution." Sunset chuckles. "Tell you what. You were worried we wouldn't see each other again after tonight, so how about I stay with you for a while, keep you company? We can go for a walk together. It's a nice enough night for one."

Cheerilee bites her lip, though her eyes say yes. "Your friends inside—"

"Will not miss me." Sunset winces. "That sounded kinda crappy, didn't it? I mean, they're all having so much fun that they won't— okay, that also sounds crappy."

Cheerilee's cheeks dimple as she laughs. Sunset's heart flutters, and it feels damn good.

Part of her wonders if this is too self-indulgent. The rest of her doesn't care. After four years of hiding her feelings, of fighting back old memories, she's earned a little self-indulgence. Even if it is just a tipsy, moonlit walk. Even if it isn't real.

Especially because it isn't real.

Moonlight and Peppermint

The sun's already been lowered, and the temperature is plummeting, but Sunset and Cheerilee keep the cold at bay with scarves and hats as they trot through the snowy streets of Canterlot.

They stop in a circular yard, with a central fountain, ringed by shops bedecked in holly and mistletoe. It's empty of other ponies, and the shops are shuttered for the night. Cheerilee leads Sunset over to the fountain, and they lean against it as most of Canterlot settles in for a cold winter's night. The voices of carolers spreading Hearth's Warming cheer drift to them upon a gentle breeze.

By and by, Sunset retrieves two candy canes from her saddlebag. They float in the grip of her magic, their crooks nudging together to form a heart.

Cheerilee's beside herself, and throws her forelegs around Sunset, in a motion so sudden and jarring that Sunset loses her grip on the candy. Cheerilee nabs one in her mouth, by the crook, but the other falls into the dirt before Sunset can grab it in an aura.

Sunset snorts at her misfortune.

But Cheerilee's eyes are half-lidded and smoky. She glances down at the cane between her teeth, then at Sunset's lips.

Sunset catches on. Smirking, she leans forward, and bites down on the other end of Cheerilee's candy canes, coming nose to nose with her. Cheerilee edges up the length of the cane, closer to Sunset.

Sunset snaps the cane in half. She suckles happily, but pauses at the look on Cheerilee's face. Her eyes are bright, but she's frowning.

Sunset floats the candy out of her mouth, and quirks her head in confusion.

Cheerilee rolls her eyes, and her frown curves upward into a smile that makes Sunset's face burn. With a slurp, a crunch, and a gulp, Cheerilee finishes her half of the candy cane.

Then she lunges, and kisses Sunset, and Sunset drops her candy a second time. She's appalled at her own clumsiness for just an instant before she stops caring, because Cheerilee tastes like peppermint anyway. Sunset tries to kiss back; it's wet, and sloppy, full of slobber and teeth knocking together...

And if Cheerilee cares, she doesn't let it show.

Their path leads to the football field. Sunset can't stop stealing glances at Cheerilee as they go – it's hard to tell from her perspective, walking side by side and arm in arm with her, but she swears there's an extra wide swing of her generously endowed hips that she can't recall ever seeing in class.

She's probably imagining things, she tells herself. She chalks that up to the punch, too. All the same, Sunset's tempted to walk behind Cheerilee for a while, just to be certain.

They're silent for most of the trip, simply enjoying each other's warmth and company. It's not until they arrive at the field that Cheerilee breaks that silence. "It's so different out here after dark. A change in light, and school's practically a different place altogether. You ever notice that?"

"I've never put much thought into it." Sunset glances around the field. "Usually, when I'm here at night, I've got some kind of magical crisis that needs resolving. Doesn't leave much time to consider the minutiae of lighting."

"Shame. I could have used a second opinion." Cheerilee shrugs, causing the shawl to slip down her shoulder. Sunset slides it back up for her, tucking it against her neck.

"...Thank you." Cheerilee pulls the folds of the shawl tighter around herself, holding them in place, as Sunset's hand retreats.

Sunset looks away. "Hey, I gotta keep you looking sharp somehow."

"Not for that. Although that was a thoughtful gesture." Cheerilee comes to a stop, slipping her arm from Sunset's. "I meant to thank you for insisting on staying with me. You were right; I needed the company. I've had something on my mind for a while, and the punch..."

Sunset's curious, but she recalls saying that she wouldn't press for details. "You don't have to talk about it."

"I know. But I want to." Cheerilee sighs and walks past Sunset, taking a few steps downfield. Sunset watches... and can't help letting her gaze drift low.

She blushes – she hadn't imagined the hip sway.

"I told you today that this year's been my best since I started teaching." Cheerilee looks over her shoulder, giving her hair a quick toss. "Do you know why?"

Sunset swallows. "Because of... me?"

"Well, now you're getting ahead of me." Cheerilee smiles patiently as she turns her body toward Sunset. "It's because I've never had a year like it before."

"...Oh." Sunset can't help a pang of disappointment. "Well, yeah... I guess you didn't get a lot of chaos demons and pony princess singalongs in class up until recently."

Cheerilee laughs, stepping closer to Sunset again. "I don't just mean the magic, Sunset. The year felt different. I have never, never seen the student body come together like it did this year. You all accomplished so much together, did so many wonderful things, brought harmony to our school for the first time ever – or, at least, in my recollection. And all along..."

She stops when she's in arm's length of Sunset – she reaches out, and Sunset instinctively grasps her hand, only asking herself why after the fact.

"...All along, there you were, at the heart of things. A changed woman, leading by example and inspiring everyone around her. Even her crybaby English teacher." Cheerilee's mirthful expression wanes, growing more wistful. "Now you're leaving. And once you're gone..."

"I think I'm starting to understand," Sunset says. "You think the school will go back to the way it was. All cliquey and stratified."

"Not quite." Cheerilee keeps smiling through her nascent tears. "That harmony will be your legacy – I believe that, deep down. I'm not worried about the school going back to the way it was. I'm worried that I..."

Her mouth hangs on that word. Sunset's free hand travels up Cheerilee's arm, sliding beneath the shawl to grip her shoulder, and Cheerilee's eyes shut. Droplets bead on her eyelashes and trickle down her cheeks.

"...I've gotten very used to you, I'm afraid," she whispers hoarsely. "The sight of you, the thought of you, the sound of your voice. Whenever I was worn out this year, whenever I felt like staying in bed because the thought of standing in front of that chalkboard for another long day was too much to bear, I'd think of you. I'd think of the woman you've become. And that's been my strength for all these long months. When you're gone from my life..."

She trails off a second time, shaking, and all Sunset can do is draw her close. Cheerilee clings to Sunset desperately; Sunset's heart thunders in her chest as her cheek brushes against Cheerilee's hair.

"I didn't know," Sunset says lamely. She doesn't know what else to say – what else she can say. It's all she can do to just hold Cheerilee, brushing her hand through her thick curtain of hair.

They don't feel the same. She's smooth, and silky, not frizzy and wiry. She breathes deeply to calm herself, inhaling the fresh, clean scent of Cheerilee's shampoo and lotion. They don't even smell the same. Not a trace of hairspray, or sweat...

Because they're not the same, a part of Sunset whispers back. And that's becoming harder and harder to ignore.

Four years, she's carried a torch for this woman. Four years of stolen glances and fantasies of what might have been and what could be. Four years of warring with herself every time she looked her teacher in the eye, trying to have her cake and eat it too – enjoying her silly little infatuation, all while pretending that this witty, curvy, clean-smelling woman, with the gorgeous eyes and the downy hair, was not the spitting image of somepony she'd left behind long ago.

And it was easy, so easy, to pretend. With their ages so far apart, and that title, that Miss, keeping her at arm's length, she could enjoy her feelings and her fantasies from a distance.

But she's not at arm's length anymore, Sunset thinks. In any sense of the word.

The fantasy is rapidly becoming reality.

...Is that really so bad?

Her thoughts are interrupted by a frustrated growl from Cheerilee. "I can't believe I'm falling apart like this again. That stupid punch..."

Sunset gets a mischievous smirk. "If you'd like, I could walk you up to the teacher's lounge, and you could trade out crying with karaoke for a while. Or mix the two – crying karaoke. Crazier things have happened."

Cheerilee laughs through her tears. "God, no. You've never heard Ms. Harshwhinney sing. If you had, you'd know just how apt that name of hers is."

A snide comment springs to mind, and Sunset opens her mouth to give it voice.

From the gym comes a sudden shriek of shattering glass, and a thundering reverb, silencing her before she can speak.

Sunset whirls, staggering a bit and cursing herself for underestimating the punch's potency. Her arm extends, pressing protectively across her former teacher's torso, and Cheerilee grips it tightly as they await whatever force has conspired to attack CHS.

Nothing happens, and nothing emerges from the gym, save an extra wubby bass line, strong enough for Sunset to feel it shaking in her bones.

"...I'll be damned. She actually did it." Gradually, Sunset's arm lowers. Her thumb climbs up to her teeth, and she bites down on it gently.

Cheerilee peeks out from behind Sunset. "Who did what?"

"Vinyl. She actually..." Sunset starts to giggle. "She actually blew out all the windows in the gym."

And then she's roaring with laughter, and Cheerilee joins in, as they stare out across the field at the not-so-distant gym. Cheerilee's arms encircle Sunset's elbow, and she draws closer, leaning her head on Sunset's shoulder. As their laughter fades, Cheerilee pulls off the shawl, and drapes it across both their bodies; they huddle close beneath it, sharing warmth.

"How do you feel?" Sunset asks. "A laugh like that must do wonders, right?"

"...It helped. But the company has helped more." Cheerilee's cheek nuzzles Sunset's neck. Sunset's heart beats faster, and she trembles beneath the shawl, but she inhales, and steels herself, and keeps her calm.

This is fine, Sunset thinks, even as the caress of Cheerilee's breath on her skin brings old memories and sensations to mind. Red and gold, sap and sweat, snowy streets, and the taste of peppermint...

She exhales slowly, and pushes those memories aside.

This is real enough for me.

The frantic dance music slowly fades, and another track comes on – slower-paced, with a softer beat, and a calm, soothing melody. A perfect slow-dance song. Sunset wonders if someone wrested the DJ seat away from Vinyl.

Then Cheerilee's tugging on her arm, pulling away, and pulling Sunset with her. Cheerilee slips out of the shawl, leaving it on Sunset alone, as her hands link together around the back of Sunset's neck. Sunset stiffens.

"What are you—"

"Prom, remember?" Cheerilee begins to rock, slowly, side to side. "You deserve at least one dance, Sunset."

Sunset gulps. Anxiety needles its way up her spine. "I can't—"

"Neither can I." Cheerilee smiles shyly. "As I see it, we're the perfect pair."

Her hair has a silvery sheen from the moonlight overhead; her cheeks, dimpled from her smile, are dusted with the faintest kiss of a blush, and those eyes... even red and puffy from crying, they shine with the same green luster.

Sunset surprises herself by taking hold of Cheerilee's waist with her left hand. She grips hesitantly; Cheerilee bites her lip.

"...You can go a little lower." Her voice quavers. "And you can hold a little tighter."

Sunset nods. Her left hand slides down to Cheerilee's hip, her right reaching up her back. She can feel Cheerilee shaking beneath her touch... or perhaps that's her own hands. It's hard for her to say. They move, not quite in time with the music.

Yet Sunset loses herself to the motion.

Her hands explore her partner, roaming across her back, up her hip to her waist, and down again. Cheerilee's hands leave Sunset's neck; one travels down to her upper arm, the other to the top of her chest. Her hands are soft, softer than the shawl, yet cool and smooth like stone. Sunset almost shudders at how her fingertips feel against her skin.

Cheerilee leans in closer. "Doing alright?"

"Yeah... think I'm getting the hang of it." Sunset meets Cheerilee's eyes for an instant before she glances away. "Funny. Back at the gym, I really didn't think that this was how our walk would turn out."

"Hmm." Cheerilee's nose bumps Sunset's, and Sunset's not sure if it was deliberate. "But you kinda hoped it would, right?"

Sunset blinks. "What do you—"

"Please. You think I never noticed how you looked at me?" Cheerilee nuzzles along Sunset's jawline, and Sunset stiffens again. "I never wanted to embarrass you, and nothing could've come of it, so I never said anything. But things are different now, aren't they?"

The prickling feeling on her spine is back, worse than before, as Cheerilee's hand cups the back of Sunset's head. Fingers lace through Sunset's hair, and Sunset's heart jackhammers. Cheerilee is a vision of beauty, bathed in moonlight and leaning her face closer to Sunset's. Sunset wants to meet her halfway.

And at the same time, Sunset wants to tear herself free from this embrace and run, put another world between herself and this Cheerilee.

"What do you mean 'different?'" she whispers in a tiny voice. It's all she can do; she's paralyzed with indecision as Cheerilee angles their lips together.

"You're not my student anymore, Sunset." Cheerilee is close enough that Sunset can taste the punch on her breath. "So I think it's okay to let you know that... lately... I've started looking back."

Their lips brush for an instant.

Sunset pushes her away.

Cheerilee staggers, her eyes shooting open, shock and pain playing across her face. She stares at Sunset, pleading.

Sunset breaks her with a look.

Cold fingers close around her heart as Cheerilee backs away; she turns, and flees, stumbling in her heels back toward the CHS gym.

Alone with her thoughts, Sunset presses her palm to her forehead and sighs.

Knots and Regrets

Cheerilee's bedroom is a morass of unfolded laundry and disorganized bookshelves. The only thing she bothers to hang up in her closet is her cheerleader's uniform, which she's currently stripping off of her body. She's rambling to Sunset as she undresses, something about spring tryouts, while obnoxious dance music blares from a phonograph in the corner.

Sunset's not paying attention to any of it.

Her chin rests on her folded forelegs as she lies on the end of Cheerilee's bed, scanning through notes and scribbling thaumic formulae on a notepad in front of her. A knot of resentment coils in the pit of Sunset's stomach as she works – these spells she's been assigned are entry-level, basic magic. Fillies and colts in magic kindergarten would scoff at them. She's the Princess's personal protege, yet she's saddled with tracing spell matrices she fully mastered years ago!

She can hear her mentor's calming platitudes as clearly as if she's standing right in front of her.

Sunset growls to herself. The Princess restrains her out of cowardice and calls it patience! What is she afraid of? What does she think there is in the big, scary world that Sunset Shimmer can't handle?

A hoof strokes Sunset's withers. A nose nuzzles along Sunset's ear.

Sunset sighs, and scoots to the side, as Cheerilee closes the notebook and snuggles against her back. Forehooves lock across her chest, and Sunset shuts her eyes.

The knot in her gut tightens.

Sunset takes a cab home, turns off her phone, and leaves it off.

She spends the next two days in her pajamas. Twilight shows up, eventually, with burritos and gossip – such a Rarity thing to do, but it's all that rescues Sunset from a slow death by starvation.

"So, yeah, I wanted to take things further, obviously," she says, concluding the story of her prom night, only two bites into her food. "But Timber, the chivalrous lug, was like, 'no, you've been drinking the punch, it wouldn't be right.'"

Sunset grunts through a mouthful of burrito.

"Speaking of the punch, we're pretty sure it was Crystal Prep who spiked it," Twilight adds. "Cinch denies involvement, of course, but it could've been an unsanctioned act by an independent actor. Maybe by someone who wasn't thrilled with how the Friendship Games wrapped up."

Sunset grunts again, and shoves the remnants of her meal into her mouth.

"Um... yeah, same." Twilight peers closely at Sunset. "You know, I think you might want to pick a different outfit for commencement tomorrow. That one's kinda..."

"Wo'?" Sunset says through a mouthful.

"Er... stainy. And smelly." Twilight wrinkles her nose. "You might also want to do something with your hair. Like... wash it. Bare minimum, brush it."

Sunset gnashes the rest of her food to paste and swallows. "No need. Not going. Thanks for dinner. You can see yourself out."

"It's noon. This is lunch." Twilight's eyes narrow. "And I'm not going anywhere until you talk to me."

Sunset snorts. "Talk. Sure. What do we talk about, huh?"

"For starters," says Twilight, setting her burrito onto the coffee table. "You could tell me what happened at the prom."

"Nothing happened at the—"

"Don't lie to me," Twilight says, firm and patient at the same time. "You vanished after I went to dance with Timber, and you've been ignoring your phone ever since that night. Something must've happened."

Sunset folds her arms and looks away. She almost shrugs off Twilight's hand when it grips her shoulder, but it's the first bit of physical comfort she's had since driving Cheerilee away. Part of her wants to just throw herself in Twilight's lap and be cuddled forever.

I think the smell might put her off, though.

"Did someone..." Twilight fumbles for words. "Were you... hurt?"

"Hurt?" The implication dawns on Sunset; she shakes her head rapidly. "No. Not like that."

Twilight heaves a relieved sigh – but there's still a hint of worry in her voice. "But you were hurt?"

"No," Sunset repeats. She draws in a long, hissing breath. "I hurt someone, Twilight. I screwed up."

She shifts on the couch, rotating to face Twilight, whose head is cocked inquisitively. Sunset's hands fold in her lap, and she twiddles her thumbs.

"...Someone came on to me at the prom." It's an effort just to say the words, but once they're out, the rest come more easily. "Someone I wasn't expecting. Someone I've kinda been... how to put it..."

"Crushing on?"

"...Admiring from afar. For a while." Sunset sticks her tongue out. "Crushing on. What are we, twelve?"

Twilight gathers her legs onto the couch, letting her feet dangle to the side. "So what happened?"

"She tried to kiss me." Sunset chases off the memory of that moment, the instant where those silky lips were against her own. "I freaked out and pushed her away. She left."

"Why'd you react that way?" Twilight asks. "If it were me, I think I'd be elated. I was elated when it happened to me, come to think of it."

"Because... I mean, it's like..." Sunset presses her fingertips to her eyelids and massages gently, sighing. "Like, okay, you have a little infatuation with someone, that's one thing. That's cool – that's private. You don't have to share it with anyone, and that's good, because maybe the idea of it becoming real, of them... reciprocating... maybe that's a little scary. And maybe you're not ready for that – and besides, there's no way they'd ever be into you too, right? So you just enjoy it from a nice, safe distance. You're content with it. And you're not prepared when it turns out that they... they, um..."

"Reciprocate?"

Sunset points a finger-gun at Twilight. "You know what I'm talking about, right?"

Twilight screws up her mouth and taps her chin, then shrugs. "Nope. First crush turned out to be a winner."

"Ugh." Sunset tucks a greasy lock of hair behind her ear. "Rarity would've gotten it."

"Probably. She wanted to come along, but I convinced her to let me talk to you alone. She paid for these burritos, though." Twilight takes Sunset's hand, cradling it gently. "Let me get this straight. She made a move on you, you weren't ready, you freaked out, she went off upset. Right?"

Sunset nods.

"So you weren't ready in that moment, and you didn't handle it so well. That's okay." Twilight squeezes. "How do you feel now?"

"...I don't know. I want to talk to her. I need to talk to her, at least to clear the air." Sunset sighs. "But at the same time, I want to hide, and hope she just forgets about me."

"You probably don't need me to point out that hiding isn't a viable option, right?"

Sunset snorts – but it tapers into a raspy laugh. She bunches up her body and lies sideways on the couch, her head in Twilight's lap.

"I don't know what to do, Twi," she whispers, shutting her eyes.

"I wish I could say that I do, but I'm probably not the most qualified to advise someone on their love life. Like I said, one crush, one boyfriend... I got lucky, but the upshot is I don't have a lot of perspective." Twilight sighs. "It might be a good idea to get out of your apartment for a little while, just as a start, though. Maybe you could show up to commencement tomorrow?"

Sunset bunches up even more. "She'll be there."

"In all likelihood. And you'll figure that out when you get to it, too." Twilight strokes her hair, only wincing a little at the oily texture. "Like I said – not a lot of experience here. But I still think you can fix this. I have faith in you, Sunset."

Sunset knows. She smiles when she hears it anyway. Then she rolls, and looks up at Twilight. "You're not gonna ask me who it is? You must be curious."

Twilight just smiles enigmatically.

Ends and Beginnings

"Would you lay off already?" Sunset snaps, pounding her hoof against the sun-baked pavement. "I forgot, okay? I told you I was sorry!"

"It's not about the date, Sunset," Cheerilee says. Around them, other ponies stop their business to stare at the feuding couple. "It's about you. You're like a different pony, and it's not just me who's noticed. Moonie told me—"

"I don't care what Moonie told you," Sunset growls, cutting her off. "What does she know?"

"She knows that this isn't you!" Cheerilee cries, her composure failing. "Your friends are—"

Sunset silences her with a harsh laugh. "To hell with friends. I don't need friends!"

Cheerilee's voice drops to a whisper. "Do you need me?"

Sunset's eyes widen. Temptation stirs inside of her, almost strong enough to make her relent.

Not strong enough.

"I don't need anypony. Not the Princess, not Moonie." Sunset glares, furious and cold. "Certainly not you."

Cheerilee doesn't say anything back – she just breaks. She flees, in tears, to the pitying glances of passersby.

Sunset watches her flee, then tosses her head and storms away. The pitying glances turn to scornful glares as passersby regard her, and the world seems colder, and dimmer, for Cheerilee's absence. Sunset doesn't care. To break somepony, and so easily – the thought makes her swell, makes her feel powerful.

It's a feeling she could get used to.

Judging by the students in gowns milling about in the CHS courtyard, papers in hand, Sunset's missed the commencement ceremony. There are only a handful left, though, Twilight being one of them. She's leaning her back against the central statue – thankfully, not the side with the portal – and thumbing away on her cell phone.

She looks up, spots Sunset by chance, and grins. Tucking her phone away, and doffing her graduation cap, Twilight bounds over, and wraps Sunset in a hug.

Sunset hugs back. "Sorry I missed the ceremony."

Deliberately, she adds to herself.

"Knew you would." Twilight pulls away. "But I knew you'd show up all the same."

"And I knew you'd wait for me. We just know one another so well." Sunset snickers, disengages from Twilight, and casts a quick look around the courtyard. "I was expecting the girls to be here, too, though."

"There's a post-graduation party at Pinkie's house." Twilight lifts the phone to show off the group selfie of Pinkie with their friends, each one holding a plate with a sizable slice of cake. "They didn't want to start without you, but I persuaded them to go on ahead while I waited here for you."

Sunset raises an eyebrow. "Why?"

Sunlight glints off of Twilight's glasses. "Because there's something I need to show you."

She guides Sunset around the school's perimeter, and they walk in silence as streaks of orange paint the sky overhead. Eventually, Twilight stops Sunset and steps in front of her.

"I know it's none of my business, but..." Twilight's hands clap together. "Have you talked to her yet?

There's an icy feeling in Sunset's stomach. "No."

"I didn't think so." Twilight bites her lip. "You should."

"I know. I just—"

"Sunset..." Twilight grips Sunset's shoulder and turns her, gently, until she faces the school building. Through the window in front of her, she sees Cheerilee in her classroom, hunched over her desk.

"I did a lot of pacing while I was waiting for you. Saw her in there during my third circuit of the school." Twilight pauses. "You should talk to her now."

Sunset's mouth droops open; she stares at Twilight.

"Come on. You think I never noticed the way you look at her?" Twilight smirks. "Gotta say, I admire your gall."

A blush creeps onto Sunset's face. "You perceptive little..."

"Hey, all I did was follow the breadcrumbs," Twilight says smugly. "She was the only chaperone in the gym after the rest of them vanished, and you both disappeared at about the same time. After what you told me yesterday, the connections all just seemed obvious."

Sunset doesn't answer; she stares through that window uncertainly. She reaches her thumb toward her mouth.

"What are you afraid of?" Twilight says softly.

Sunset bites down on her thumb. "You got an hour to kill, Twi?"

"It was a rhetorical question. Although I'd love to hear all about it." Twilight smiles sadly. "But maybe you should tell her before you tell me."

Sunset's heart is a jackhammer; her teeth are a few pounds of pressure away from breaking the skin on her thumb. "I..."

"I know." Twilight takes Sunset's hand and gives her an encouraging squeeze. "But I have faith in you. Remember that, okay?"

The reminder doesn't chase Sunset's fears away, but it helps her master herself. She breathes deeply, slowly, until her heart steadies and she approaches something resembling tranquility.

"Thanks, Twilight." Sunset gives her friend a serene smile. "Give the girls my best. Tell 'em I'll be there when I can."

Twilight nods. Then, as an afterthought, she doffs her cap, and slides it over Sunset's head; a curl of red pokes out from the elastic. The tassel dangles over the cap's left side. Twilight flips it to the right.

"Congratulations, Sunset Shimmer."

Sunset's knuckles rap on the window pane, and Cheerilee starts, bolting up from the desk. When she glances out the window, her jaw drops with an unheard gasp, and her hand clutches her chest.

Sunset raises her own hand and waggles her fingers in a nervous wave.

Cheerilee almost smiles, but her expression quickly sobers. She crosses the room and slides open the window, and looks blearily at Sunset.

"I didn't see you at commencement," says Cheerilee. Her voice is thick, and rasps a little. "I assumed you decided not to come."

"Last-minute decision." Sunset folds her arms tightly across her chest. "I was too late for the ceremony."

Cheerilee glances at the cap on her head, half-frowning.

"It's Twilight's," Sunset says. She notices the purple pen in Cheerilee's hand. "You working on something?"

Cheerilee stiffens. She takes a breath. "Yes. My, um..."

The rest of her sentence is mumbled, incoherent.

Sunset leans forward. "Didn't catch that – say again?"

"...Resignation letter."

"In purple ink? That's kind of a weird—" Then the weight of Cheerilee's words crashes into Sunset. "Wait, you're resigning? Why?"

Cheerilee looks away. "You know why."

Sunset's insides go cold. "Oh, Cheerilee, no. You don't have to—"

"Yes I do," says Cheerilee sharply. "I have no place at this school after prom. I was drunk, I conducted myself unprofessionally, and I tried to take advantage of—"

Sunset's hand darts out. Two fingertips press against Cheerilee's soft, glossy lips.

"The punch might've played a part in... what happened... but I was there because I wanted to be. And you didn't take advantage of me." Sunset pulls her hand away, tucking it in her jacket pocket. "I know I freaked out a little; I know I hurt your feelings. And I'm sorry. I couldn't really handle it right then... but you were right about how I look at you."

Cheerilee stands there, silent, as if in a daze.

Sunset fidgets, clasping her hands behind her back. "Do, um... do you really look at me the same way?

Cheerilee gives a tiny, tiny nod. Then she sways, catching herself on the window sill.

Sunset reaches through the window to steady Cheerilee. "Need to sit down?"

"What I need is a drink," Cheerilee mumbles to the floor.

Sunset leans into her field of vision, smirking impishly. "Wanna see if they have some of that punch left?"

"...Kinda." Cheerilee returns that smirk in full. "But I'm pretty sure Ms. Harshwhinney absconded with it after the prom shut down."

They laugh, the previous tension flowing away with every breath. When it's over, they straighten, and look one another in the eye.

"So," Cheerilee says. "What does this mean for you and I?"

Sunset rubs her elbow, hesitating. "I don't know. It's... complicated on my end. There are things you don't know, that I haven't told anpon— anyone about. None of my friends, not even Princess Twilight. And I don't know what that means for us, if the two of us can be..."

She twines two fingers and raises them.

Cheerilee purses her lips. She nods with resignation.

"But you deserve to know why," Sunset continues. "To know the truth – all of it. And I'm gonna give that to you, I promise." She extends her hand to Cheerilee, palm up, with a hopeful smile. "So, please, if nothing else... tear up that resignation letter."

Cheerilee regards her hand stonily. Then her eyes gleam, and she takes Sunset's hand in her own, flipping it palm-down. There's a click, and she raises her pen.

Sunset looks warily at her. "What are you—"

"You said you'd tell me the truth. I assume you didn't mean tonight. So... whenever you're ready..."

The pen tickles as Cheerilee writes deft, neat purple digits on the back of Sunset's hand.

"...You'll know how to reach me." She finishes with a flourish, and clicks her pen closed.

Sunset looks down at the phone number – from her perspective, it's upside down. "Couldn't you have just put this into my cellphone contacts?"

She gets a dimpled grin in reply. "Where's the romance in that?"

One Door Closes...

"You're Sunset Shimmer?" It's a dagger through Sunset's heart to hear that voice, to see those pale green eyes again. "I'm Miss Cheerilee. We're so glad to have you."

From the front of the classroom, Sunset stares across the rows of desks – the students look wary, skeptical, even confused. Only the teacher looks happy to see her.

The teacher. Celestia was bad enough, but this – Sunset isn't prepared for this. There is no preparing for this.

"Thanks," Sunset grumbles. She hugs her textbook tightly.

The teacher gestures to an empty desk, beside a girl with springy, purple hair, and shrewd blue eyes. "Why don't you take the seat next to Rarity?"

"Thanks," Sunset repeats mechanically. Her knobby knees and clumsy feet carry her to the desk; she sits, and greets the other girl with a glare.

'Rarity' eventually looks away.

The teacher turns to the chalkboard. "We're starting The Odyssey today – page one-eighty-four in your textbooks. Sunset Shimmer, would you care to read first?"

"No."

The teacher turns and blinks, clearly caught off guard by Sunset's rejection. The knife twists, compelling Sunset to soften her answer.

"No, thank you."

The blue-eyed girl beside Sunset raises her hand. "May I?"

The teacher nods at her, smiling blandly. Her eyes linger on Sunset, before she sits at her desk and looks down at her textbook. "Thank you, Rarity."

The girl begins, but Sunset's eyes are on the teacher, her jaw working in silence as she ruminates on her moment of weakness. Old memories, regrets she thought herself beyond, resurface. For a moment, Sunset indulges in them...

Then Sunset throws that door closed. She refuses to open it again.

Late one night, Sunset Shimmer places a phone call.

Directions are given, promises exchanged, and Cheerilee arrives on her doorstep in minutes. Sunset invites her inside, and guides her to the couch in the living room. The desk lamp on the coffee table chases some of the darkness away, but the rest of Sunset's living room is shrouded in black.

"Okay." Sunset takes a deep breath. "You know about... uh, the place where I come from. How there's other versions of everybody from school there."

She pauses long enough for Cheerilee to venture the obvious question. "There's another me, isn't there?"

"Yeah. There is." Sunset slowly meets Cheerilee's gaze. "She was my first love."

Cheerilee's face, cast in pale lamplight, plainly shows her shock. But she says nothing, doesn't interrupt, for which Sunset is grateful.

"I use that word loosely, you know. 'Love,' I mean." Sunset's fingers curl and flex nervously. "We were kids when we met. A couple of teenagers without the perspective to know what love really meant. But... it felt real to us. Real enough for it to hurt her when I..."

She almost breaks. Cheerilee reaches over and takes her hand, running her thumb across her knuckles tenderly.

"...I ran out on her." Sunset's voice drops to a raspy croak. "I looked her in the eye, and I broke her heart, and it felt good. The rush I used to get from pushing people around? The first time I felt it was when I hurt her."

Sunset tries to continue, to think of something more to say. Nothing comes to mind. There's silence, a long silence, before Cheerilee speaks.

"You know, I've always wondered if there was another me in that other world. What she might be like, if she existed. I never imagined you knew her, though... let alone that you two were involved." She scoots closer on the couch. "Is that why you're interested in me?"

"I wish I knew, one way or the other. I wish I could say no. I wish I could say yes, because even that would be an answer." Sunset's heart starts racing, but the gentle motion of her thumb across her skin keeps her grounded. "I mean, you look like her. You sound like her. You have her voice, her eyes..."

She didn't have dimples, though.

"Do I act like her?" says Cheerilee.

Sunset bites her lip and shakes her head. "But that's what gets me. Because you're not her, no matter how much you remind me of her. You're your own person. And I wanna say that I like you for you, y'know? But I don't know if I'd even... if I'd ever have looked at you if you weren't... if you didn't look like..."

She feels dizzy, like she's going to swoon. Cheerilee moves closer still, close enough for Sunset to lean on her. She doesn't break, doesn't cry, but she lets herself rest against Cheerilee as the older woman holds her close.

"When you were my teacher, that was one thing." Sunset buries her face in the crook of Cheerilee's neck – she still smells like shampoo and lotion, smooth and clean. "I didn't have to think about it, because one way or another, it didn't matter. You were my teacher, and nothing was ever gonna happen. But now, not only are you not my teacher, but you... you like me back."

"I really do," Cheerilee whispers.

Sunset's heart gives a tiny jolt.

They stay together a moment longer before Sunset pulls away and looks down at her lap. "So... yeah. That's... that's why I didn't kiss you the other night. Not that I don't— didn't want to; I just, it wasn't the right— and I'm sorry for pushing you away—"

In her peripheral vision, she sees Cheerilee moving, and knows she's angling toward her lips. She telegraphs it well enough that Sunset knows she can back out before it happens.

Instead, she melts into the kiss.

It lasts a few seconds – it's slow, and sweet, and oh so gentle – and then Cheerilee pulls back with a little smack. Their foreheads touch, the tips of their noses nuzzling.

"I'm not the girl you knew back there, any more than you are the girl who knew her," Cheerilee whispers. "You're a different woman – a different person – and if we have something together, it'll be different from what those girls had. It'll be ours. So, if you'll have me... I think I'll take my chances with you."

Their second kiss lasts longer, and steadily grows deeper, more passionate. Sunset moans into Cheerilee's mouth and leans into her, letting their tongues slide together. She hugs Cheerilee close and leans back, and they tumble onto the couch.

Cheerilee's legs straddle Sunset's hips, and she presses their bodies together. They kiss, and they gasp, and their hands explore one another. Then Sunset's hand slips boldly beneath Cheerilee's top, and Cheerilee breaks the kiss.

"What's the matter?" Sunset asks, her hand poised just below Cheerilee's ribs.

"I'm not..." Cheerilee glances aside. "I mean, we just... and this is all happening so quickly that I don't know... how far do you want to...?"

Sunset braces herself on her elbows and leans up. "Do you not want to?"

"I mean, I do – very much so, in fact." Cheerilee smiles sheepishly; her cheeks dimple, and Sunset's heart flutters. "It's just... been a little while for me, that's all. I'm afraid I'm a bit rusty at, well... everything."

"I wouldn't be able to tell." Sunset blushes. "I've never been with a girl before. Not a human one, I mean."

"Is that a fact?" Cheerilee's smile turns devious. "I guess that makes me the experienced one by default."

"Guess so." Sunset pecks Cheerilee on the nose, and steals a long, deep kiss from her lips while she's up there. "But you're out of practice, and I have no practice. So, as I see it..."

"...We're the perfect pair," Cheerilee finishes.

Sunset grins. Her hand travels higher, and Cheerilee groans delightedly.

The Long Summer

Sunset pulls the bedsheets over their bodies, snuggling into Cheerilee's arms and relishing the skin-to-skin contact. She sighs. There's a certain contentment that comes from being single. It's nothing compared to this.

"So," Sunset says. She circles a fingertip in the valley between Cheerilee's breasts. "How long have you...?"

Cheerilee lifts her head and glances down at Sunset. "How long have I what?"

"Been into me." Sunset smirks.

"Ah." Cheerilee's head flops back against the pillow. "Honestly, nothing I say will sound impressive, compared to what you told me."

Sunset leans up and kisses her on the cheek. "You don't need to impress me. I just need assurance that you weren't hot for me back in 9th grade."

Cheerilee bolts upright and glares at Sunset; the covers slip down to her waist. "What do you take me for, Sunset?"

"Well, you are in bed with the former school bully," Sunset teases.

Cheerilee's face goes scarlet. She flops back down, and pulls the sheets up to her chin. "Oh goodness, you're right. I'm the worst. I'm literally the worst person in the world."

"I'm only teasing." Sunset aligns her body with Cheerilee's, draping one of her legs over both of hers. "And I'm not jailbait, either. Relax."

The sheets lower, and Cheerilee turns a half-smile onto Sunset. "Well, that much I pieced together a while ago. The other Twilight, the pony one – your friends tell me she's an adult where she comes from. I figure, the two of you are at least the same age..."

Sunset blushes. "I'm a little older than her, actually."

"Older?" Cheerilee blinks. "By how much?"

"Uh..." Sunset scratches her cheek sheepishly. "We're talking about you, not me, remember?"

The older woman gives Sunset a familiar, smoky look.

Sunset feels a brief pang – a hollow echo of what she used to feel, but it's felt nevertheless. Then Cheerilee inhales, slowly and deeply, and the comforting sound of her breathing fills Sunset with warmth. She's drawn back into the moment, her cares forgotten and her pangs dashed away.

"...Since the fall formal. Or not long after it." Cheerilee pushes away from Sunset and rolls onto her side, and Sunset rolls to face her. "That night changed a lot of things, but it changed you most of all. You shed your old persona, and became kind, and compassionate... but when I saw the things you and your friends were capable of, that's when I really knew."

Sunset grins. "I think you gave me this speech already."

Smirking, Cheerilee reaches over and smacks Sunset's bare bottom lightly. Sunset yelps, then giggles.

"Accuse me of unoriginality, will you," Cheerilee grouses. Then there's a weighty pause as she fixes Sunset with a stare, her face growing more serious. "How about this, then? I fell for you because you became someone worth falling for."

Sunset's eyes sting. She kisses Cheerilee's cheek, and snuggles against her again.

Lying there, pillowed by her new lover's breast, Sunset finds herself fulfilled. Yet a disquiet, a kernel of doubt, lingers. Images of a frizzy-maned filly with a gleaming grin and peppermint breath play through Sunset's mind. She does her best to sweep them away, to focus on the beautiful woman holding her, but they're still there, at the fringes of her memory.

In every meaningful way, Cheerilee is not the same as her reflection. Sunset knows that now more than ever. But when she hears her voice, when sees those green eyes gazing at her, part of her thinks back to diamonds and autumn leaves and peppermint. Sunset wonders if that will always be the case – if the filly from behind the mirror will forever stand between them.

"Where do we go from here?" Sunset whispers, half to herself.

Cheerilee answers. "I'm not sure. Your own past notwithstanding, it's been a long time since I've had a partner, and I never had many before now. A boyfriend in high school, a girlfriend in college... an 'arrangement' in graduate school... I'm not the most experienced when it comes to things like this."

"Me neither." Sunset strokes Cheerilee's bare stomach, before finding her hand and clasping it. "I know that I want this, though. I know that I want you."

"And I, you." Cheerilee nuzzles Sunset's cheek.

Sunset catches her head as she pulls away, and looks into Cheerilee's eyes. Her mind recalls moonlight and cool air on bare shoulders, and the taste of punch on her lips.

They kiss, deeply, as the long summer stretches out before them.

Author's Notes:

Special thanks to:

-Majin Syeekoh, who, in addition to pre-reading, came up with the title
-AndrewRogue, for editing, and for inspiring/guiding a significant rewrite of the story's plot
-Soufriere, who has drastically influenced the way I write and characterize Sunset Shimmer (burritos and stained pajamas when she's depressed are just a thing now)
-The Writeoff Association, for all their help and encouragement over the course of the writing process

...and, of course, all my readers and followers.

Coda: World Enough and Time

The book bag's strap digs painfully into Cheerilee's shoulder, chafing her skin through her blouse as she walks. She's carrying thirty-six essays, prepared by students with a tendency to overwrite everything, none of whom did her the courtesy of printing on both sides of the page.

She hefts the bag and grunts from the effort – it's as if they want her to develop back problems.

It's Friday evening, and the school is all but deserted. None of the students have lingered as late as Cheerilee, who's bogged down by the never-ending duties of grading and prep work. Only a few other faculty, and custodial staff, remain. The parking lot, too, is mostly empty: one or two cars are scattered here and there, besides Cheerilee's own beloved sedan, which sits alone at the back of the lot.

She's surprised – not unpleasantly so – to find that it's gained a hood ornament. Sunset Shimmer's seated on the front of the car, slender legs dangling past its front bumper. Behind her, the sun dips lower in the sky, and her body casts a long, murky shadow.

Cheerilee pauses, a few paces away from her car. She squints at the setting sun, then levels a knowing look at her girlfriend posing in front of it. "You're too much sometimes."

Sunset Shimmer folds her legs at the knee, rests her elbows on her thigh, and plants her chin in her upturned palms, a smug look on her face.

Cheerilee shakes her head, though she can't stop grinning like a lovesick schoolgirl. "I don't see your bike in the parking lot. Did you walk?"

"Gotta stave off that freshman fifteen somehow. Not that I burned too many calories on my way here." Sunset reaches behind herself, and produces a brown paper bag. "Probably won't make much of a difference after this."

"You brought me lunch?" Cheerilee's grin widens. "It's not burritos, is it?"

"Cheers, we've been over this. Burritos are depression food; sandwiches are for days where we enjoy life. Also, it's sundown. This is dinner."

Cheerilee breaks into giddy laughter. "I have papers to grade, you know!" she manages to gasp out.

"Yeah, and I have papers to write. I don't mind procrastinating if you don't. Call it chronic senioritis." Sunset gives the bag a shake, rustling its contents. "C'mon. It's salami and mozzareee-llaaa..."

Cheerilee catches herself licking her chops.

There's just no saying "no" to her, is there?

She stops to drop her bag into the backseat, and joins Sunset on the car hood, settling down and kissing her cheek. "You're a terrible influence. You know that, right?"

"Maybe. Or maybe senioritis is contagious."

"Ought to get yourself tested."

Sunset makes a sour face. "Too much work. I got papers to write after this, y'know."

Cheerilee snickers, and leans in again for another kiss – on the lips this time, deeper and sweeter. They part with a wet smack, a smile passing between the two lovers.

"You already ate your sandwich," Cheerilee says softly. "I can still taste the chipotle mayo."

Sunset pouts. "I was hungry."

Cheerilee snorts, accepting her own sandwich when Sunset offers it. She unwraps it, and raises it to her mouth. Sunset is talking about her day, about her classes, about how easy it is to excel in a community college environment, about the funny meme Rainbow Dash sent her while they were sitting in chem... the trivia, and minutiae, of her life.

She's saying something gossippy, in a faux-scandalized tone, about Timber spending the night in Twilight's dorm, when Cheerilee stops listening. Not because it's uninteresting – okay, it is, but Sunset could make even the phonebook worth listening to.

But because Vice Principal Luna is standing at the high school building's exit, looking at Cheerilee through the glass doors, fixing her with a cold, knife-like stare. Her disapproval, her disgust, is clear, even from across the parking lot.

Icewater crashes through Cheerilee. Her smile fades – her appetite is gone.

A warm hand grips her shoulder. "Hey. What's the matter?"

Cheerilee blinks and looks at Sunset, into her warm, concerned gaze. "Nothing. Nothing, I'm just..."

She glances back at the door. Luna's gone.

"...I'm just not all that hungry right now, I suppose."

"Are you sure?" Sunset's brow furrows. "You were ready to go to town on that thing a second ago. Did I get the wrong bread? Is there too much dijon? Not enough dijon? Can you tell how much dijon there is just by looking at it?"

"It's perfect. I promise." Cheerilee nods emphatically.

Sunset takes a deep breath. "Is it... 'cuz I came to see you at school?"

Cheerilee starts to answer, but Sunset interrupts.

"I know, I know. It's only a big deal if I make it one." Sunset hugs herself, rubbing her arms through her jacket. "Still feels weird, though. Intrusive. And... I don't like making things hard for you."

Cheerilee's voice catches for an instant. "If you're worried about making things hard for me, then why show up at all?"

Sunset looks shockingly uncertain, with her slumped shoulders and her teeth gnawing her lower lip – not at all the confident woman she's been, for all the time that Cheerilee's known her.

"'Cuz we don't see each other as much as we did over the summer. That's normal, I know, but going from 'every day' to 'a few times a week' to 'every weekend' is like... tapering off your meds too fast. It's hard to adjust, even after a couple months." Sunset runs a hand through her red-gold tresses, tossing them over her shoulder. "And I know we're supposed to have dinner tomorrow, but that wasn't coming fast enough... so I thought I'd get a head-start on things."

A bit of that forgotten smile creeps back onto Cheerilee's face. "You broke your cardinal rule just because you missed me?"

"Well... yeah." Sunset's own confident smirk returns. "That, and I'm pretty sure you'd starve to death if I didn't feed you. I know how you get when you're on the job, Cheers."

They share a laugh – but when it's over, there's still some uncertainty in Sunset's eyes.

Cheerilee's quick to assuage it. "I'm happy you came to see me. It's..."

Her hand finds Sunset's thigh, giving it a squeeze.

"It's the best thing to happen all day."

Relief seems to pour through Sunset; she straightens, smiles more broadly. "So what's up then? You can tell me." More earnestly, she adds, "You can tell me anything."

And Cheerilee wants to. At that moment, there's nothing in the world she wants more than to bare her soul to this woman she's fallen inescapably in love with. Because Sunset's not the only one of them guilty of carrying a secret – just the only one of them with the courage to let hers out.

Sunset doesn't know that Luna was livid at her relationship with Cheerilee, that Luna demanded Cheerilee's resignation. That it was only by Celestia's intervention that Cheerilee kept her job, and only with the understanding that Sunset was closer to Cheerilee's age than she was with any of her peers – and, even then, only after Cheerilee swore that nothing happened when Sunset Shimmer was her pupil.

And even that was purely a matter of perspective, when one considered the prom.

There's more, too – so much more. Sunset might still think, on some level, that their relationship is just a dream, built on her memories of a lost love from behind the mirror, but that's not the truth of the matter at all. The truth is, Sunset is an angel. Literally, from what Cheerilee has seen. And Cheerilee knows she has done nothing to deserve the love of an angel.

So, one day, Sunset will simply realize that she's outgrown Cheerilee. She'll spread those fiery, seraphic wings, and soar away, in search of someone worthy.

Sunset doesn't know that she is going to leave Cheerilee.

And Sunset doesn't know that Cheerilee has accepted this inevitability.

In that moment, Cheerilee almost tells her.

Instead, she smiles adoringly.

"I promise, I'll eat it later. I'm not about to let your hard work go to waste."

And that's enough for Sunset.

She holds the bag open for Cheerilee to drop the sandwich inside, and moves the bag behind herself. Cheerilee gathers her legs onto the hood of the car, and cuddles against Sunset.

"I'm gonna hold you to that, you know," Sunset says. She plants a kiss on Cheerilee's head. "I'm gonna follow you home and watch you eat every single bite of that thing."

Cheerilee lifts her head long enough to pull Sunset into a slow, deep kiss. Her hand strokes Sunset's cheek; her thumb flicks a curl of hair out of Sunset's eyes.

"We can go in a few minutes," Cheerilee whispers, after they part. "Just give me a little more time like this."

Then she settles her head against Sunset's shoulder, smiling, and shuts her eyes.

Author's Notes:

Commissioned art by SciSetDaily

Edited/preread by Dubs Rewatcher