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To Whom It May Concern
Rarity’s hoofsteps echoed in the vast, dark, entrance hall of Twilight’s castle until she noiselessly pushed open the door to the only room illuminated at this hour. She blinked into the library’s brightness.
“Twilight?”
A head popped up from a table near the back. “Rarity! Thank you for coming.”
“Of course, dear. Now, what was it that you needed?” Rarity strolled across the room, hefted her saddlebags onto the table, and took the other seat. She’d scarcely seen Twilight so… flustered before. Scared, even. Poor thing.
“I-I think I’ve finally come to a decision,” Twilight said, wearing a tight-lipped smile. “I’m writing a letter.”
Rarity touched her lightly on the shoulder. “Oh? To whom?”
After a deep breath, Twilight said, “I need to tell somepony how I feel. Finally. I’d appreciate your eye.”
“Ah.” Twilight had been out of sorts lately. Preoccupied, jumpy, moping. “Well, show me what you have so far.”
Twilight slid the sheet of paper over, and Rarity squinted down—too bad she didn’t have her sewing glasses. As she read, she whispered the words to herself.
“I’m sorry if this makes you uncomfortable, but I couldn’t hold it in forever. I’ve felt this way about you almost since the first day we met, but I couldn’t ever get myself to act on it. Even if nothing ever comes of it, I decided that you should know. That way, you’ll realize why I behave the way I do toward you at times, why I sometimes get tongue-tied around you, why I can’t always talk to you as easily as everypony else.
“In fact, I’ve gotten the impression that you don’t feel the same way back, that you couldn’t feel the same way. And that’s okay. I don’t intend to let any of this change our friendship. I hope you won’t, either. It can burn out of sight, like the sun at dusk. I’ll still cherish every moment we spend together, and it won’t be awkward. I promise.
“You’re my friend first—how can I call myself a friend if I continue lying? One of omission, but still a lie. You’ve probably noticed me acting funny. That will stop. I just wanted you to know that I love you, but I won’t pursue anything without a clear sign that it’s welcome.”
Rarity wrinkled her nose. “I must say, this sounds awfully generic. You could’ve written it to anypony.”
“What would you suggest?” Twilight asked. “I’m kind of new at this.”
With a sigh, Rarity hugged her. At least Twilight’s smile looked more genuine now, but… did she feel the dear trembling?
“You should personalize this. Let him—or her?—know that they’ve had an impact on your life. Like here—” she ran a hoof along one of the printed lines “—you mention times you acted a certain way. Tell them which times, how they made you feel.”
“Like—like when you came over for my first sleepover? I hadn’t made any friends long before, and it meant a lot to me.” A small smile cracked Twilight’s face.
“Yes, good example. Something like that,” Rarity replied, tapping a hoof on the page. “And where you say you can’t talk to them easily, instead say why you’d want to. Let them know it’s important, not just… because they mumble or something.”
Twilight grinned even bigger. “You know me so well.”
“Rainbow Dash is waiting to walk me to the train station; I’m heading home to Canterlot tonight. Do you want me to read a revision later?”
“Oh. Um, actually, no. It was enough to write it. I-I don’t think I’ll send it. Thanks.” Twilight smiled so warmly for something so final.
“Please don’t give up,” Rarity said.
She hated to leave her friend like that, but… schedules and all. She bid Twilight adieu, and out in the street, Rainbow Dash trotted up by her side. “What’d she want?”
“To help her pen a love letter.” Rarity gave a wan smile. “To an unspecified recipient.”
“How’d it go?”
“I gave her what help I could. She decided not to send it, though. More therapeutic than practical, I suppose.”
Rainbow looked her over, then slumped her shoulders. “Going back home to Blueblood, then, huh? Where is he tonight?”
“The lout is gambling with his friends. Again,” Rarity said, her jaw set. “I really thought he’d changed.”
“Poor Twi,” Dash whispered.
“Pardon?” Rarity asked, perking an ear.
“Nothing. Why do you stay with him?”
“I still love him,” Rarity breathed out through her sigh. “I still love him.”
“Twilight?”
A head popped up from a table near the back. “Rarity! Thank you for coming.”
“Of course, dear. Now, what was it that you needed?” Rarity strolled across the room, hefted her saddlebags onto the table, and took the other seat. She’d scarcely seen Twilight so… flustered before. Scared, even. Poor thing.
“I-I think I’ve finally come to a decision,” Twilight said, wearing a tight-lipped smile. “I’m writing a letter.”
Rarity touched her lightly on the shoulder. “Oh? To whom?”
After a deep breath, Twilight said, “I need to tell somepony how I feel. Finally. I’d appreciate your eye.”
“Ah.” Twilight had been out of sorts lately. Preoccupied, jumpy, moping. “Well, show me what you have so far.”
Twilight slid the sheet of paper over, and Rarity squinted down—too bad she didn’t have her sewing glasses. As she read, she whispered the words to herself.
“I’m sorry if this makes you uncomfortable, but I couldn’t hold it in forever. I’ve felt this way about you almost since the first day we met, but I couldn’t ever get myself to act on it. Even if nothing ever comes of it, I decided that you should know. That way, you’ll realize why I behave the way I do toward you at times, why I sometimes get tongue-tied around you, why I can’t always talk to you as easily as everypony else.
“In fact, I’ve gotten the impression that you don’t feel the same way back, that you couldn’t feel the same way. And that’s okay. I don’t intend to let any of this change our friendship. I hope you won’t, either. It can burn out of sight, like the sun at dusk. I’ll still cherish every moment we spend together, and it won’t be awkward. I promise.
“You’re my friend first—how can I call myself a friend if I continue lying? One of omission, but still a lie. You’ve probably noticed me acting funny. That will stop. I just wanted you to know that I love you, but I won’t pursue anything without a clear sign that it’s welcome.”
Rarity wrinkled her nose. “I must say, this sounds awfully generic. You could’ve written it to anypony.”
“What would you suggest?” Twilight asked. “I’m kind of new at this.”
With a sigh, Rarity hugged her. At least Twilight’s smile looked more genuine now, but… did she feel the dear trembling?
“You should personalize this. Let him—or her?—know that they’ve had an impact on your life. Like here—” she ran a hoof along one of the printed lines “—you mention times you acted a certain way. Tell them which times, how they made you feel.”
“Like—like when you came over for my first sleepover? I hadn’t made any friends long before, and it meant a lot to me.” A small smile cracked Twilight’s face.
“Yes, good example. Something like that,” Rarity replied, tapping a hoof on the page. “And where you say you can’t talk to them easily, instead say why you’d want to. Let them know it’s important, not just… because they mumble or something.”
Twilight grinned even bigger. “You know me so well.”
“Rainbow Dash is waiting to walk me to the train station; I’m heading home to Canterlot tonight. Do you want me to read a revision later?”
“Oh. Um, actually, no. It was enough to write it. I-I don’t think I’ll send it. Thanks.” Twilight smiled so warmly for something so final.
“Please don’t give up,” Rarity said.
She hated to leave her friend like that, but… schedules and all. She bid Twilight adieu, and out in the street, Rainbow Dash trotted up by her side. “What’d she want?”
“To help her pen a love letter.” Rarity gave a wan smile. “To an unspecified recipient.”
“How’d it go?”
“I gave her what help I could. She decided not to send it, though. More therapeutic than practical, I suppose.”
Rainbow looked her over, then slumped her shoulders. “Going back home to Blueblood, then, huh? Where is he tonight?”
“The lout is gambling with his friends. Again,” Rarity said, her jaw set. “I really thought he’d changed.”
“Poor Twi,” Dash whispered.
“Pardon?” Rarity asked, perking an ear.
“Nothing. Why do you stay with him?”
“I still love him,” Rarity breathed out through her sigh. “I still love him.”