It was a good day for spring cleaning, and that meant a good day for Fluttershy. Humming a high-noted and singsong tune, she flitted about her woodland cottage dusting and wiping and smiling. In truth she had far fewer bad days than most ponies would’ve thought. Certainly there was the occasional call from Twilight to save the world, which usually involved dark and terrifying things she didn’t care to think about. Since the new librarian arrived in Ponyville there had been lots of these little surprises but Fluttershy was quite adept at forgetting and repressing and mis-remembering. On balance she had more good days than bad, and this was another of the good days.

There had been more of the good days, lots of them, since she found Rainbow Dash in her garden, perched on a stump like a beautiful parti-colored scarecrow. They had been fast friends in flight school, and she owed Rainbow far too many favors to count. There were bad days back then but Dash made them go away, shooing away bullies and silencing name-callers and helping her remember to laugh. Fluttershy giggled as she cleaned, old giggles and private flying lessons and cool autumn nights spent under a blanket of blue wings leaping to mind. Yes, those were the good days, the ones worth remembering.

When Rainbow came back a few months ago, the good days started again. She had been nervous, unsure, halting, and Fluttershy invited her inside because that’s what old friends do. Rainbow needed some giggles and some private time and some warm spring nights spent under a blanket of yellow wings, and Fluttershy owed her that much at least. Rainbow Dash never stayed, visiting just long enough to hold tight and cry into a pink mane and sweat and bite and taste. Those were good days, too, even when Dash left. She always left but that didn’t change the fact that no matter what else happened, that had definitely been a good day.

Good days didn’t come as often now that Dash had been accepted into the Wonderbolts Academy. She needed her practice time and her workout time and her study time and lots of other times that weren’t time with Fluttershy. That was okay, though. Sometimes Dash took a weekend off and came to visit like she used to. Fluttershy snatched the sheets off her bed, the sudden rip of stained and damp cloth sending a cloud of blue and yellow feathers into the air. They wafted through the bedroom like slow-motion butterflies, brilliant cerulean and pale canary and sometimes a darker burnt yellow. Sometimes there were orange hairs in Dash’s mane at night and on Fluttershy’s pillow in the morning that weren’t Dash’s orange. Those were harder to forget and made the good days rarer.

Fluttershy carefully packed away her extra place settings and spare china. She usually ate alone now and didn’t need to be ready to fix a midnight meal for wayward pegasi. The last few weeks Rainbow barely came by at all; when she did she was distant and cold and rough. That was fine too – as long as Dash left happy, then Shy could count it as a good day. When happy wasn’t an option, she could settle for happier, at least. If that didn’t work then what was a good friend to do except offer a little distraction and comfort? It shouldn’t matter to her that Rainbow smelled like fire and her kisses tasted like somepony else – it was Rainbow Dash, and that alone made it a good day.

She sat at her kitchen table, now dusted and spotless. Behind her a clock ticked while creatures of all descriptions slept in their nests and holes and burrows. There was still time for it to be a good day today. Despite the lack of blue wings entwined with hers and the absence of rainbow mane in her bed, despite the stack of letters telling her how Dash had turned to Spitfire for things Shy could never do and couldn’t provide, and how they’d become serious and she wouldn’t be coming by any more, today could still turn out to be a good day. Just like yesterday and the day before and all the others, Fluttershy sat alone, hoping that this would be a good day, and hope was enough. It had to be enough.

The clock ticked and midnight rolled past. She sighed and promised herself she’d dream about flying and laughing and warmth again as she slipped into bed. Yes, tomorrow would be a good day. There were lots and lots of tomorrows and surely one of them would be a good day again.

Author's Notes:

TMP Prompt # . The Prompt: One pony turning away from another pony.

Some structural inspiration (not plotwise, obviously) from this story.

This story was originally meant to be a chapter of If the Flight Suit Fits, but I decided to write Fluttershy out of it. I may eventually change my mind, depending on how angsty I want that story to end up.