Chapter Text
The memory crosses her mind what felt like the thousandth time; it might have been from the previous day, but it still felt fresh to Twilight.
The morning sun filtered gently through the library’s windows, painting everything in golden stillness. The books were quiet. Spike was still asleep, snoring softly in his basket. And Twilight Sparkle lay awake, eyes open, staring at the ceiling above her bed.
She hadn’t slept, not really.
Her mind had been too loud.
Every time she shut her eyes, it came back. Not a nightmare. Not a spell gone wrong.
Just one moment — and how it changed everything.
Twilight looked up at him, cheeks still tinged pink. Something stirred inside her—an impulse, quiet and strong. She leaned in and gently kissed him on the cheek.
Mordecai blinked in surprise.
Twilight pulled back quickly, suddenly flustered. “I-I’m sorry, Mordecai. I don’t know what came over me. I know you're going through a breakup, and I shouldn’t be—mmph?!”
He didn’t let her finish. Mordecai leaned in and kissed her full on the lips, cutting off her apology.
Every time she closed her eyes, she felt his wings around her, how they encircled her as their lips met for the first time. She blushes as she remembers holding onto him as she kisses him back.
Many would argue that this was a spur-of-the-moment kind of thing, but for Twilight, it was real, passionate, and it meant something.
Then he pulled away.
Spike stepped inside with bags of supplies and froze mid-step.
“Oh boy,” he muttered, blinking. “Did I come back at a bad time?”
Mordecai and Twilight stared at Spike, faces red as tomatoes. Neither said a word as the tension in the room thickened.
Then Mordecai looked back at Twilight, panic creeping into his face. She opened her mouth to say something—to do something—but he was already scrambling to his feet.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” he blurted, rushing past the door and out into the street.
Twilight called after him. “Mordecai, wait—I—!”
But the door closed before she could finish.
“I didn’t stop you…” she whispered into the quiet. “Because I didn’t want to.”
Her magic idly flicked a quill across her desk. A blank scroll rolled out — her fourth attempt to write him something. Anything. Even just a note saying “I’m okay.” Or maybe “Are you okay?”
But everything sounded either too much… or not enough.
She’d even considered writing to Princess Cadance; love problems seemed like her wheelhouse. But how could she explain it? That her best friend had kissed her, days — maybe hours — after having his heart broken by someone else?
And she kissed him back.
No, worse… she kissed him first.
Spike hadn’t brought it up this morning either. Just gave her a knowing look when he handed her coffee and asked if she was okay.
She said yes.
She lied.
Now she sat, hugging a pillow as if it could hold her back, as if it could stop her from casting a locator spell and teleporting to the park. Just to see him, to talk.
Would he even want that?
She didn’t know.
The doubt was the worst part. Not the kiss, not even the awkwardness.
It was the not knowing.
Did he regret it? Did he mean it? Was it just an impulse?
The possibilities curled around her like fog, and none of them led to clarity.
What if I ruined everything? she thought, clutching the pillow tighter. What if he only kissed me because he was lonely? What if it was a mistake to ever think he could see me that way? Her heart ached at that thought.
She stopped herself, pressing her hooves to her forehead.
“No. No spiral today. Just… get through today,” she muttered aloud.
She sat up in bed, legs dangling slightly as she looked toward the window, where the sun continued rising. A brand-new day.
And yet…
Something still felt missing.
The kind of missing that doesn’t come from misplacing a book.
It was deeper.
Like something was supposed to be beside her.
Someone.
The space beside her.
Mordecai lay flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling of his room in the house he shared with Rigby. His earbuds were in, but the music had stopped playing over an hour ago.
He hadn’t noticed.
One of his wings hung slightly over the edge of the bed, the other tucked beneath him uncomfortably. He didn’t bother shifting. Didn’t care. His room was quiet, save for the occasional sound of Muscle Man yelling outside and the hum of the fridge downstairs.
He hadn’t moved much since returning from Ponyville.
Since he… ran.
“God…” he muttered, dragging a hand down his face. “I’m the worst.”
The memory replayed for the hundredth time — the way Twilight had looked at him, confused and wide-eyed after the kiss. Her hoof was still resting gently on his chest. The light from the library window was casting soft shadows on her face.
He kissed her.
He kissed his best friend.
And then — classic him — he bolted like a coward.
He squeezed his eyes shut. “Why did I do that?”
But he knew why.
It wasn’t just a “heat of the moment” kind of thing. It wasn’t just because she was there and he was feeling vulnerable.
It was because he wanted to.
Because he’d always wanted to.
Way before Margaret, before the crushes, before he even realized what it meant to want someone like that.
Twilight had been a constant — a safe place. He could talk to her about stuff he didn’t even tell Rigby. She listened. She actually understood him and didn’t judge him for his behavior.
And she was brilliant. And beautiful. And just… her.
But he didn’t deserve to kiss her, not after everything.
“I’m such an idiot…” he muttered, turning over onto his side.
He half-expected her to teleport into his room and yell at him. Or worse — to show up with that look on her face. The one that said, “She was trying really hard not to be hurtful.” That one always killed him.
But she didn’t come.
She hadn’t even sent a scroll.
Which made sense. She probably didn’t want to see him. He couldn’t blame her.
“I kissed her and ran out like a freakin’ sitcom cliché…” he groaned, flopping onto his stomach and muffling his next words into the pillow. “Way to go, dude.”
He stared at the small sketchbook on his nightstand — pages half-filled with random doodles he’d drawn over the last few days to keep his mind off everything.
A Timberwolf, a weird-looking squirrel, then, a page with what was clearly an early attempt at Twilight’s cutie mark. He flipped past it — fast — only to find another: a clumsy drawing of a pony-shaped silhouette reading a book.
And the next? A half-finished drawing of Twilight’s eyes, the same ones he saw after they kissed.
“Ugh,” Mordecai groaned under his breath, snapping the sketchbook shut.
He didn’t even remember drawing half of it. Maybe he just wanted something familiar, or maybe he was an idiot.
He tossed the sketchbook across the room. It bounced off the closet door with a dull thud and hit the floor — pages fanning open again.
But he didn’t go pick it up.
Everything felt stuck, like he was stuck.
He reached for his phone, opened his texts, and hovered over her name.
Typed. Deleted. Typed again.
Deleted again.
He let the phone drop on his chest and sighed.
There were so many things he wanted to say.
So many things he should’ve said.
But all he could think was:
I miss you.
And she probably didn’t want to hear that.
Not right now.
So he lay there in silence.
Just him.
And the space where she should be.
The sketchbook lay open-faced on the floor, incriminating pages exposed to no one… until the door creaked open.
“Hey, dude! You in here?” Rigby poked his head in without knocking, holding a bag of chips and somehow already chewing. “You’re not dead, right? ‘Cause Benson told me to check.”
Mordecai groaned and flopped back on the bed, arm over his eyes. “I’m fine, Rigby.”
“You sure?” Rigby stepped in, crunching louder now. “Because it sounded like you threw something and then muttered like a guy in a breakup montage.”
“That’s very specific.”
“Well, you did just break up with Margaret, soooo…” Rigby’s eyes scanned the room — and immediately spotted the sketchbook on the floor.
“Don’t—”
“Is that who I think it is?” Rigby bent down, lifting the book and flipping a page. “Dude. Is this Twilight?”
“Give it—!” Mordecai lunged, but Rigby danced back with a grin.
“Bro. Three different drawings. One with her cutie mark, one where she’s reading — classic Twilight — and one that’s basically Twilight’s face. That’s some detail you’re trying to go for.”
“I don’t— I didn’t mean to—” Mordecai groaned and faceplanted into a pillow.
Rigby plopped onto the edge of the bed. “You kissed her, didn’t you?”
Silence.
“...Shut up,” Mordecai mumbled into the pillow.
“Knew it.” Rigby stuffed another chip in his mouth, smirking. “And you ran after? Classic Mordecai.”
Mordecai muttered something incoherent.
“What was that?”
“I said it felt real, okay?” Mordecai sat up suddenly, face red. “But I screwed it up, and now I have no clue if she even wants to see me again. So, thanks for making it worse.”
Rigby blinked.
Then shrugged.
Twilight stirred her tea nervously, the clinking of the spoon against the porcelain far louder than it needed to be. The Mane 6 were gathered for their usual check-in — a little catch-up session now that things had died down. It was casual, light, comforting.
At least it was supposed to be.
Twilight hadn’t said a word since they all sat down.
“Darling, if you stir that tea any faster, it’ll tunnel right through the table,” Rarity quipped lightly, casting her a curious glance.
Twilight blinked, flustered. “Oh. Sorry. I’m just… distracted.”
Applejack tilted her head. “You okay, sugarcube?”
Twilight hesitated. This was it — the moment. She could either let it eat at her until Spike staged an intervention, or she could just come out with it.
“I… I kissed Mordecai,” she admitted in a rush.
There was a moment of stunned silence.
Pinkie Pie’s eyes went wide. “Like… kissed-kissed?”
“On the lips.”
Another beat of silence — and then Rainbow Dash let out a short laugh. “Finally.”
Twilight’s jaw dropped. “Wait — what do you mean finally?!”
“You seriously thought we didn’t notice?” Rainbow smirked, nudging Applejack.
“Sugarcube, I’ve seen the way you two look at each other,” Applejack added gently. “And let’s not forget how your ears perk up every time his name gets brought up.”
“I—I don’t—” Twilight stammered, blushing harder at the revelation.
Rarity gave her a sympathetic smile. “You’re not exactly subtle, darling. It’s sweet, really. Though it’s crazy that Mordecai misses those obvious signs.”
Fluttershy sipped her tea and nodded. “We all kind of figured something would happen eventually.”
“But it wasn’t supposed to happen like that,” Twilight said quickly, her voice shrinking with each word. “He was still dealing with his breakup. He was hurting. I—I kissed him on the cheek, and then he kissed me, and then he ran off as if he regretted it, and now I don’t know what to think and—”
Pinkie gently placed a hoof on her shoulder. “Do you regret it?”
Twilight swallowed. “...No.”
“Then talk to him,” Applejack said simply. “Don’t let a good thing slip by just ‘cause you’re overthinking it.”
Twilight stared into her teacup. “I just… I don’t want to ruin our friendship.”
“Maybe it’s not ruining anything,” Fluttershy said softly. “Maybe it’s just changing. Growing.”
Twilight looked up at her friends, warmth swelling in her chest — and maybe a little bit of hope.
Then Pinkie leaned in with a mischievous grin. “Soooo… was it a good kiss?”
Twilight’s entire face flushed. “Pinkie!”
The familiar buzz of sports games, sizzling fryers, and the smell of buffalo sauce filled the air. Wing Kingdom was its usual chaotic self — but Mordecai was unusually quiet, poking at his lemon pepper wings with the enthusiasm of a soggy napkin.
Rigby was on his third wing and halfway through a “Most Wing Sauce Consumed in 5 Minutes” challenge when he noticed.
“Yo, dude. You good?”
Mordecai didn’t look up. “...Sorta.”
Benson narrowed his eyes. “You’ve been staring into that wing basket for twenty minutes.”
“I’m just tired.”
Muscle Man grinned. “Tired from making out with Twilight, am I right?!”
Mordecai’s head snapped up so fast he nearly knocked over his soda. “What?!”
“Wait, WHAT?!” Rigby dropped his wing.
Benson choked on his drink. High Five Ghost did a double-take.
Skips raised an eyebrow. “...You kissed Twilight?”
The table went dead silent.
Mordecai sighed. “Yeah.”
Rigby blinked. “Dude, what?! Since when?! You didn’t say anything!”
“You guessed it earlier!”
“I was only messing around! I didn’t think you actually did kiss her!”
“I didn’t tell anyone,” Mordecai muttered, his feathers ruffled — literally. “It just… happened. We were at the library. She was helping me work through the breakup. One second we were talking, then she kissed me on the cheek, and then I— I kissed her.”
Benson nearly dropped his wing. “Wait, Twilight Sparkle kissed you?”
Muscle Man let out a loud “OOOHHHHH!”
High Five Ghost floated back slowly. “Okay… but like… what happened after?”
Mordecai groaned and dragged his wings through his feathers. “I ran out of there.”
“YOU WHAT?!” Rigby slapped both hands on the table.
“Dude! She kissed you, you kissed her, and then you just— left?!”
“I panicked!”
Skips, ever the anchor, leaned forward. “What did she do? Did she say anything?”
“She held onto me… but then Spike came in, and I freaked out. She probably thinks I hated it or something.”
Muscle Man snorted. “Bro, if she didn’t want it, you’d know. Sounds like she was into it.”
Rigby was still reeling. “You’ve been sitting on this all week?! What, were you just gonna take this to your grave?!”
“I didn’t know what to say!” Mordecai groaned. “I’ve been trying not to overthink it, but it keeps coming back. That moment felt… real.”
Skips nodded. “Then you owe it to her — and to yourself — to find out what it really meant.”
Mordecai looked down at his wings again. “I just… don’t wanna mess things up.”
Rigby finally leaned back, folding his arms. “Then stop pulling a Mordecai, bro. Talk to her.”
Muscle Man elbowed him. “Yeah, unless you want to be that guy who kissed a unicorn and dipped like a chicken.”
“I get it!” Mordecai muttered, but a reluctant smile tugged at the corner of his beak. “Okay. Okay, I’ll talk to her.”
Skips smiled faintly. “Good. Now eat your wings. They’re getting cold.”
The Park had gone quiet. The stars outside glimmered faintly through Mordecai’s window, but he wasn’t sleeping.
His sketchbook was shut this time, tightly, and set aside on the nightstand. He sat on the edge of his bed, phone in hand, scrolling, stopping, locking it, unlocking it, rinse, repeat.
A soft knock came at the door.
“...Yeah?”
The door creaked open, and Pops poked his head in, wearing a cozy night robe and his ever-present gentle smile. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”
“No, come in.”
Pops stepped inside and sat beside him. “You looked awfully troubled at dinner.”
Mordecai hesitated. Then, “I told them about the kiss.”
“Good show! What was their response?”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Well… they all freaked out. Can’t blame them, I guess.”
Pops tilted his head. “And how do you feel?”
Mordecai ran a hand through his feathers. “I’m… confused. Still.”
“But not about the kiss itself?”
Mordecai looked up, eyes tired but sincere. “No. The kiss felt… right. It was everything after that that messed me up. I was fresh off a breakup. I didn’t want Twilight thinking I was using her or something.”
Pops nodded thoughtfully. “That’s very mature of you to consider.”
“I didn’t want to lose her, but I also didn’t want to drag her into something messy.”
“And now?”
Mordecai breathed out. “Now I miss her every day. I can’t stop thinking about her. About how she held onto me, how she looked at me like… like I wasn’t broken, and I ran.”
Pops’ eyes softened. “Oh, Mordecai…”
“She deserves better than some confused guy who can’t get his act together.”
Pops placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “She deserves someone who chooses her. And from what you’re saying, that’s what you want to do. But you’re afraid.”
“Yeah. I’m scared she moved on, or maybe she thinks I didn’t mean it.”
Pops paused. “May I ask… where do you stand with Margaret?”
Mordecai’s feathers ruffled slightly. He thought about it, long and hard.
“I’m… done. I loved her once, but I think I was clinging to an idea, not the real thing. Twilight? That’s real. It scared me because it caught me off guard, but… It’s real.”
Pops gave a proud, fatherly smile. “Thank you for sharing that. I think… there’s someone else who needs to hear it, too.”
Mordecai looked at him.
“I’ll be in Ponyville tomorrow, a delivery to Princess Celestia, and some tea time. Would you mind if I… gave Twilight an update while I’m there?”
Mordecai paused… then slowly nodded.
“Yeah. Tell her… tell her I’m doing okay.”
Pops patted his back. “Very well.”
And with that, he stood and left, quietly closing the door behind him.
Mordecai lay back on his bed, staring at the ceiling. For the first time in days, his chest felt a little lighter.
Twilight was halfway through re-cataloging her nonfiction section, but her focus was miles away. Her magic hovered a book in the air for nearly a full minute before she realized she hadn’t moved it.
Spike sat on the stairs behind her, kicking his feet idly. “You okay, Twilight?”
She didn’t answer.
A knock at the door broke the silence.
“I got it,” Spike said, hopping down and opening the door.
“Pops?” he blinked.
“Good afternoon, young sir!” Pops beamed, tipping his hat with polite enthusiasm. “And to you as well, Miss Sparkle!”
Twilight blinked in surprise. “Pops? I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“I happened to be passing through after delivering some correspondence to Princess Celestia and having some tea with her,” he said, stepping in. “And I thought it would only be right to check in on you.”
Twilight closed the book she was holding with her magic and set it aside. “That’s... thoughtful of you.”
Pops folded his hands behind his back, his usual lightheartedness giving way to something gentler. “I thought you might appreciate an update about Mordecai.”
Twilight’s ears twitched. “Oh?”
Pops nodded. “He’s… doing better now. His spirits have lifted.”
Twilight hesitated. “Better?”
Pops nodded again, his tone quieting. “He’s been carrying something heavy for quite some time. You know about Margaret.”
Twilight gave a small nod.
“Well,” Pops said, “that burden… It’s no longer weighing him down. He’s let go of it. Not all at once, of course. But enough that the color’s returning to him again.”
Twilight looked down at the floor. “That’s… good. I was worried about him.”
“I know you were,” Pops said softly. “Sometimes… we carry worry for others longer than we admit. Even when we don’t quite understand why.”
Twilight’s eyes flicked up to him, but he didn’t push further. Instead, he pulled a small envelope from his coat pocket.
“What’s this?”
“A small card. Nothing important — he sketched it and forgot to send it. I thought you might want it.”
Twilight took it in her magic and unfolded it. Inside was a simple line sketch: a cluster of stars — her cutie mark — floating beside a tiny crescent moon.
She smiled faintly, tracing the image with her eyes.
Pops continued, “He didn’t say much. Just that he’s sorry for being distant. And that he hoped you were doing okay.”
Twilight’s breath caught in her throat. She folded the paper and tucked it gently into her saddlebag.
“Thanks, Pops.”
He smiled wider. “My pleasure, Miss Sparkle.”
As he walked to the door, he paused for just a moment and looked back at her, his voice soft and certain.
“I think… he cares just as much.”
And with that, he stepped out, letting the door close gently behind him.
Twilight stood in the silence; a hoof pressed softly to her chest.