continuation of last chapter, so after S9 E3, (Uprooted.)

His breath quickened at the sight of her, but he ignored it and smiled on the inside, rather fond of her feistiness. In terms of personality, she and Midnight were nothing alike.

“I certainly hope you weren’t about to swear in Princess Celestia’s home,” Soarin teased.

Dash rolled her eyes, but he could see a small smile on her features. “Like you haven’t,” she retorted.

Soarin shrugged. “So, whatcha doing out here?”

“Just came back from Rarity’s room.” She snorted a little. “Keeps trying to set me up with all these stuck up stallions,” she told him. “Pictures and everything.”

He felt the familiar clench of jealousy roll over him, but he did his best to ignore it. “Any of them catch your eye?”

“As if,” she scoffed.

“Ah, none can match your awesomeness?” he asked sarcastically, although he wore a grin as he spoke.

A sparkle lit her eyes as a cocky smirk spread over her lips. “Correct.” She lowered herself to the floor as Soarin did the same. “So, uh, how was your... date?”

Should he...? Nah, he couldn’t tell her it was a little awkward. He was trying to move on, and for that he had to really act like he was. Fake it ‘till you make it, he reminded himself. “It was nice, actually,” he said, smiling a little as he thought of his enjoyable last conversation with Midnight. “I like her, she’s very sweet.” He smiled fondly.

For a moment, he swore a flicker of hurt crossed Dash’s face, and he cursed himself, never ever wanting to be the one who put that look there.

“That’s good, Clipper,” Dash said. “She seemed nice. And you know, Rarity told me she owns a jewelry business? Apparently they get along...”

Soarin nodded a bit too vigorously. “Yeah! She does, you know, she’s all of those things you just listed there...” he chuckled nervously.

Dash raised her brow, but a glint in her eye and the way she casually flipped her mane had seemed cool and nonchalant and unbothered and all the things he didn’t want her to be. He wanted her to be jealous. Wanted her to show it. But he knew he wouldn’t get that, because that was not Dash. “So, I guess... all the stuff from before...”

“You mean the whole thing at the end of the season...” he trailed off.

“Yeah,” she whispered and peered into him. “That’s all done. All done. Officially. It was never really, uh, official before, guess that’s why we crawled back to each other so soon after our little... uh, break ups or whatever, heh.”

He shrugged his shoulders and coughed. “Yeah, it’s all done, we are all done.” He found himself speaking a little louder to put an emphasis on the fact. The fact that he still found not wanting to be true.

They stood in silence for a couple moments, both still unable to really accept that their entire romance— the late night talks, the cider, the giggling and pranking, the whispers and secret kisses, those tired, tender words that were only uttered at night... they were all gone. Finished.

Feeling the sadness and disappointment wash over him, Soarin yawned loudly and felt the urge to go to bed and forget this conversation happened for awhile. “I do like Midnight,” he insisted quietly to himself. I like her, I like her, I like her. He repeated this because the want to follow Dash into her room and feel the warmth of her body pressed against his was starting to take it’s toll.

“I know.”

Shit. He hadn’t realized she heard him. He looked into her magenta orbs, glowing softly in the light. He swallowed back his wanting, forcing himself to stay still.

“So, I guess you’re...” She shook her head and blinked a couple times, her soft look replaced with an eager smile that he knew wasn’t real. “Heh, I guess we’re moving on.”

We’re... yeah, we’re moving on.

Those were words he didn’t want to hear. He didn’t want them to be over. For a long time, they were them. Rainbow Dash and Soarin. She was his pony, his confidant, his lover. He never knew he could love somepony as much as he loved her. As Fleetfoot had told him the other day that had secretly pleased him, “You guys are kind of like an epic love story.”

He didn’t know how much he had loved those words until now.

But they were moving on, and he had to face reality. We’re moving on. We’re moving on. I’m moving on. And I have Midnight Star.

Then why did he still want Rainbow Dash?

“We’re moving on,” he confirmed with a shake of his head. We’re moving on. “Things can go back to the way they were before.”

She bit her lip. “The way they were before, huh?”

He nodded.

A slow smile made it’s way onto her face and she tilted her head, looking adorable. “So we’re moving on,” she repeated. “And you have Midnight and I got a lot of shit, and you know, for the good of the team...”

He raised his eyebrows. “What’s on your mind, Crash?”

She cleared her throat. “We should be friends.”

“Uh, friends?” he echoed.

“Uh huh. You know, work friends. Friends that... hang out with our other friends and laugh at lame jokes and help each other with the other’s problems. Not the super close, tell each other everything friends, because Celestia knows that wasn’t the best decision.”

He forced a laugh, making patterns in the floor with his pale hoof. “Definitely. Just a whole lotta pain.”

He expected her to scoff at the idea of her feeling pain, but she didn’t. “Exactly. So we’re work friends. Who make small talk and discuss the weather.”

He couldn’t help but scrunch up his face at that.

Dash giggled. “It’s not the most appealing, I know, but we’re moving on, so it’s okay.”

He realized what she was doing— trying to find a loophole so that they could still speak and have more than just ‘good morning’ to say to one another. He liked the idea way more than he should have. “Well, it’s for the good of the team.” He smiled.

“Absolutely.”

We’re moving on. Good for the team. Ha, what a bunch of bullshit. At least for me. Soarin stuck out his left wing. “Alright, Rainbow Dash. We’re friends.”

Her wing enclosed in his and gave it a brief shake. “Friends.”

They tore apart and Dash turned away. “Goodnight, Clipper,” she bid.

“Goodnight, Crash.”

Walking around the corner to his room, he noticed Blaze wandering. She sometimes had trouble sleeping.

“Oh, hey Soarin,” she greeted simply.

He managed a weak smile, feeling his heart sink in his chest. We’re moving on.

When he didn’t reply, she frowned. “You alright?”

He didn’t want to pretend anymore, so he sighed. “No.”

“Oh, well, what’s up?” she asked casually, keeping her tone light.

He let a single tear roll down his cheek as he opened the door to his room. “We’re moving on,” he said.

We’re moving on.