𝙛𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙣 𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙡 ✧ 𝙖 𝙧𝙖𝙧𝙞𝙟𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙛𝙞𝙘

.°⋆𝒔𝒊𝒙 ₊*

↳ rarity ༉‧₊˚✧

It happened again. It always happened to her.

Rarity ran into the bathroom and began to run the faucet to hide her tears.

It's a little trick she picked up when she still had a shiny rock on her finger. When she still had people who wouldn't hesitate to tell the papers that she cried.

Everyone cries. It was just different when someone sparkly did.

She hated being sparkly sometimes.

Her back slid down the wall as she fell to the floor, her palms hiding her contorted face as she sobbed into them. Quietly.

"Not again. Please not again."

One day, she just wanted to find somewhere to cry. She wanted to find somewhere with someone who'd hold her while she did.

She finally thought she had- until Apple Jack proved her wrong.

But with the way things were, it wouldn't happen. Just the way things were. The way she made things because she had a silly naive dream to make it that way. Her tears were her own fault- there was no reason for anyone else to hear them.

She fucked herself in the head. Two people have said so to her face.

When her house on the hill was finished, the apple trees and the birds couldn't tell anyone how much she cried. They'd have no pennies to make from every salty tear that rolled down her made-up cheek.

She didn't think Apple Jack would try to sell her sorrows and plant seeds of suspicion, but she didn't want Apple Bloom to know she was unhappy.

Rarity realized she was making excuses for wanting privacy to cry. She didn't need a reason to be alone anymore.

So she simply cried and muttered words of self-hatred as she hoped the water would drown them out and wash them away. But she'd need more than a rusty faucet to do that. A bottle of Dom Perignon would be better suited for times like this.

Every feeling swirled to a point. Idiocracy. Stupidity. How could she be so dumb to think that she would ever be friends with AppleJack?

She reached a new level of foolishness when she thought they could be more than friends.

But it wasn't entirely her own fault. Apple Jack acted like she liked her, and then turned around and told her she'd never like her.

A behavior too familiar.

The elegant parties were when her fiance would treat her the best. When everyone could see how beautiful and smart she was. That's when he'd open the car doors, rub his thumb on her hand while he held it, laugh at her jokes, tuck her hair behind her ears. Say I love you.

All the fanciest shit.

They had just returned from a glamorous party when he called her fucked in the head the first time.

She was back on the bathroom floor. She thought it was over. She thought she was free. But he was only replaced.

The worst part was that she loved him. The deepest pits of her soul and body ached to hold him every miserable day she spent begging him for his love back.

He shouldn't have been angry when he found out she was out and about with a guy who gave her what she wanted without her having to ask. A sugar pill for the real drug she craved.

And no one who'd seen the empty bottles of champagne scattered everywhere when she finally snapped.

After her eyes dried, she knew it was time to sleep. She was tired.