Applied Mathemagics

by Riddlest

I don't know the other breeds of magic and at this point I'm too scared to ask. (Male SI unicorn.)

24. The Awkward Part

Knock knock knock.

I don't move.

I don't breathe.

If I stay perfectly still, maybe she'll think I'm not here. Maybe she'll go away.

I squeeze my eyes shut, willing the universe to give me this one mercy.

Another knock. "Kinetic." Twilight's voice is muffled through the door, but I can hear the stubborn edge in it. "I know you ran home. Open up."

I remain silent.

She sighs. "Okay, maybe you're not here. Maybe you ran off into the Everfree again, or maybe you're sulking in some alley. But just in case—"

She knocks again, firmer this time. "I'm not leaving."

I stare at the door like it personally betrayed me.

I don't move.

I will not move.

Seconds stretch into minutes. Maybe if I wait her out, she'll get bored.

Twilight never gets bored.

"You do realize I can teleport inside, right?"

I jerk upright. "You wouldn't dare."

Damn it.

The words are out before I can stop them.

I hear her smirk. "Oh, so you are in there."

I groan, dragging my hooves down my face. "Twilight, for the love of Celestia, go away."

"No."

I bang my head against the counter again. "Why are you like this?"

"Why are you like this?" she fires back, way too quick. "You ran off instead of talking like a normal pony."

"I don't do feelings, Twilight. You of all ponies should know this by now."

"Too bad." She knocks again. "I refuse to let you rot in there all night just because you embarrassed yourself."

"I am not embarrassed," I lie.

"Oh, you're completely embarrassed," she counters. "You said deep, personal things, had a massive identity crisis, let me hug you—"

"Don't bring up the hug."

"—and now you're hiding in your house like a foal."

"I am not hiding!" I absolutely am. "I am choosing to avoid unnecessary interaction."

"So hiding," she says flatly.

I scowl at the door. "What do you want, Twilight?"

"I want you to come outside and actually talk to me."

"Not happening."

"Then I'll just stay here."

I groan. "Twilight."

"Kinetic."

I rub my temples, letting out a slow breath. "You really have nothing better to do?"

"Not really."

I drag a hoof down my face.

She's serious.

She's really going to stand outside my house all night just to make a point.

I sigh dramatically, leaning back against the counter. "Twilight, you standing outside my house all night isn't going to change anything."

"Maybe not," she says, far too casual. "But it sure is inconvenient for you, isn't it?"

I grit my teeth. "Are you enjoying this?"

"Immensely."

"Of course you are."

She knocks again. "Hey, serious question."

"Doubtful."

"Your injuries—" she pauses, as if choosing her words carefully. "—when you were, uh, like that. Are they gone?"

I blink.

That actually makes me hesitate.

Because… I don't know.

I remember the fights, the claw marks, the bruises—back when I wasn't this. Back when I was human, twisted by Discord's corruption, wandering the Everfree with nothing but anger and pain.

When I changed back… I didn't check.

I glance down at myself, at my hooves, my coat, the familiar shape of me. It feels like it's all gone, but…

What if it's not?

"…I think so?" I say, hesitantly. "I haven't really looked."

Twilight hums. "You should probably check."

I frown. "I'll do it later."

"Or," she says, "you could open the door and let me check, just to be sure."

I scowl at the door. "Nice try, Sparkle."

"Oh, come on," she whines. "You wouldn't want to suddenly collapse from internal injuries, would you?"

"I'm fine."

"Kinetic, I saw what you looked like. You were practically dripping blood, and I don't know how that transformation works—maybe it didn't heal everything."

I hesitate.

Twilight is annoyingly thorough about things like this. And if there is some remnant of damage left behind…

"…Just for a second," I mutter, unlocking the door with my magic. "Then you leave me alone."

"Of course," she says sweetly.

The moment I crack the door open, I realize my mistake.

Because I see them.

All of them.

Applejack. Rainbow. Pinkie. Rarity. Fluttershy.

Standing just outside the door.

Waiting.

My eyes widen. "You—"

They pounce.

"Oh, son of a—!"

I hit the floor in a tangle of hooves and magic, Twilight's holding the door open, Applejack's rope already wrapping tight.

"GOTCHA!" Rainbow crows triumphantly.

"I trusted you!" I snarl, thrashing, but Applejack's already yanking the rope tight.

Twilight smirks, stepping over me. "I told you to open the door. You just didn't ask if I was alone."

I scream internally.

Pinkie grins, looming over me. "Now that we have you, mister, you're gonna talk."

"I refuse to participate in this interrogation!" I shout, struggling.

"Oh, hush," Rarity says, adjusting her mane. "We just want to help."

"Help me by letting me go!"

Fluttershy, ever the quiet one, tilts her head. "…No."

I groan, flopping dramatically against the floor, my hooves still tied. "I demand a lawyer."

Twilight rolls her eyes. "You're not on trial, Kinetic."

"Feels like I am," I grumble.

Applejack sighs, tightening the rope slightly just to make a point. "We just wanna talk, sugarcube. You ain't exactly been honest with us."

I raise a brow. "Oh, the irony."

Rainbow crosses her hooves. "So? What even are you?"

I shift slightly, my ears flicking back. "You already saw what I was."

"Yeah, but what is it?" Rainbow presses. "You had—" she makes a vague motion with her hooves, "—those weird paws, that weird face, and no fur except for that scraggly mane. You looked naked!"

I grimace. "Great, thanks for that mental image."

"Rainbow," Twilight sighs. "Let's focus."

She turns back to me, serious now. "You said your name was John. That Kinetic Flux was just… what? A disguise?"

I glance away, ears twitching. "Something like that."

Pinkie tilts her head. "So, you weren't born pony?"

I exhale through my nose. "No."

Fluttershy frowns, her wings twitching. "But you've been a pony all this time?"

I nod. "Since I got here."

Rarity hums, studying me carefully. "And just where is 'here' to you?"

I don't answer immediately. Instead, I glance down at my hooves, flexing them slightly as if expecting them to change again.

I don't want to answer.

I don't want to talk about it.

Because talking means acknowledging, and acknowledging means dealing with it.

And I refuse to deal with it.

So I do what I do best. I redirect.

"Look, is this really important?" I say, shifting slightly against the ropes. "What I was doesn't change what I am now."

Twilight narrows her eyes. "What you are now is a pony who had a breakdown, ran into the Everfree, turned into a mystery creature, tried to pick a fight with us, and then immediately ran away when things got emotional."

I scowl. "Oh wow, what a neat little summary."

Applejack nudges the rope. "She ain't wrong."

I roll my eyes. "Look, I repeat, "why does it matter? What's done is done. We stopped Discord, everything's fine, and I'm back to normal."

Twilight steps forward, eyes sharp. "But are you?"

I freeze.

Just for a second.

Twilight sees it.

Her expression softens, just barely. "Kinetic," she says, quieter now, "are you really okay?"

I plaster on a grin. "Obviously."

"Yer lyin'," Applejack mutters.

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, ya are."

"No, I—"

Twilight sighs, rubbing her temples. "Kinetic, we're not just going to drop this. We care about you."

I scoff, looking away. "Truly, a tragedy."

"Enough with the jokes!" she snaps, suddenly frustrated. "You almost died! You turned into something else entirely! And now you're acting like it didn't even happen!"

I don't answer.

Because what am I supposed to say?

That she's right?

That every moment of it is burned into my skull? That I can still feel the weight of Discord's words crawling under my skin? That I hate how easily my mind twisted itself against me?

No.

Absolutely not.

So instead, I sigh loudly, tilting my head back. "Alright, fine, let's make this easy: what do you actually want from me?"

Twilight crosses her hooves. "I want to understand what happened to you."

"We all do," Rarity adds.

I shrug. "Got corrupted by Discord. Happens to the best of us."

Twilight's eye twitches. "Kinetic."

I huff. "Look, you saw the gray. The color-drain, the mood-ruining despair—classic chaos magic stuff. He got inside my head, flipped all the switches, and bam, instant identity crisis. Happens all the time, I assume."

Twilight narrows her eyes. "How did he do it?"

I blink. "Do what?"

"Get inside your head," she presses. "Discord's corruption doesn't just happen. He has to break you down first. He has to get you to doubt yourself."

I scoff. "Oh, so you're an expert on chaos magic now?"

Twilight doesn't flinch. "I know what it looks like."

The air feels heavier for a moment, like the conversation just took a step too far into dangerous territory. I feel my own muscles tense, my pulse quicken.

She's right, of course.

Discord doesn't just take you.

He gets in.

Hetalks.

And I let him talk.

I shake my head, forcing a smirk. "Oh, come on, Twilight, does it really matter? The important part is that you rainbow-blasted the problem away, and here I am, back to my usual, handsome self."

She doesn't buy it.

None of them do.

Twilight exhales sharply. "Kinetic—"

I grin sharply. "You really wanna play this game?"

Her eyes narrow slightly.

I push forward.

"Fine. Let's make it fair." I glance at all of them, taking my time. "How about you tell me what he did to you first?"

The shift in the room is immediate.

Rainbow stiffens. Applejack's jaw tightens. Pinkie's ears flick back, barely perceptible. Fluttershy looks down, and Rarity's expression wavers.

I watch it all, and I grin wider.

"Bingo."

Twilight flinches, just slightly, before she scowls. "That's not the same."

I laugh, shaking my head. "Oh, but it is the same, Sparkle. You think you can press me for details, but the second I turn it back on you, suddenly it's different? That's not how it works."

Twilight doesn't back down. "How did you know?" she demands. "How did you know he did that to us too?"

I scoff, rolling my eyes. "Please. You all look shaken up—even Rainbow, who's usually too proud to let things show." I tilt my head mockingly. "And if I got hit with the classic mind games, it's not exactly a stretch to assume he did the same to you." I raise a brow. "What? You thought you were special? That he tailored his whole routine just for you?"

Twilight scowls. "You're deflecting."

I smirk. "And you're avoiding the question."

Applejack huffs. "We ain't the ones actin' like this conversation don't matter."

I shrug against my restraints. "Yeah, well, I prefer not to dwell on existential crises and personal breakdowns, unlike some ponies." I give Twilight a pointed look.

Her ears twitch. "We need to understand what happened, Kinetic."

"Why?" I ask, exasperated. "So you can analyze it? Write a friendship report on it?" I scoff. "News flash, Sparkle—it happened. It sucked. I got over it. End of story."

She doesn't back down. "If we don't talk about what happened, how do we know you're actually okay?"

I snort. "Wow, it's almost like you don't know, and that should be ok."

She glares. "Kinetic."

I glare right back. "Twilight."

We stare each other down.

The others are dead silent, watching like this is a tennis match of sheer stubbornness.

I sigh loudly, leaning my head back against the floor. "Look, let's just agree to disagree on how much self-reflection is actually necessary, and I'll go back to my very normal, well-adjusted life."

"You live in a house that doesn't follow Euclidean geometry and forget to buy soap."

"Details."

Twilight groans, rubbing her temples. "Kinetic, please."

I raise a brow. "Why do you care so much?"

That makes her pause.

Just for a second.

I smirk. "See? You don't even know, do you?"

Her jaw tightens. "That's not the point."

I shrug. "Feels like the point."

Applejack lets out a tired sigh. "So what, you're just gonna dodge us 'til we get tired and let ya go?"

"Yes," I say flatly.

Rainbow groans. "Ugh, he's so annoying."

"Finally, somepony understands my appeal." I grin, but it doesn't quite reach my eyes.

Twilight watches me carefully, expression unreadable.

She's thinking.

I don't like it when she thinks.

She exhales, slow and measured. "Fine," she finally says, stepping back.

I blink. "...What?"

She nods to Applejack, and suddenly the rope around me loosens.

I tense.

This feels like a trick.

Twilight just looks at me, something unreadable behind her eyes. "Go, then."

I hesitate.

Because that's not what I expected.

My hooves twitch, instinct screaming at me to run, but…

Why does this feel worse?

Why does it feel like she just let something go?

I don't like this.

I don't like this at all.

The others hesitate. Applejack's brow furrows, her grip still firm on the rope. "Twilight, what're ya doin'? We got 'im right here."

Rainbow flares her wings. "Yeah! If we let him go, he's just gonna keep dodging everything!"

Pinkie's ears droop. "Are we really just leaving?"

Twilight doesn't answer. She just looks at me for a moment longer, her expression unreadable, then turns on her hoof and starts walking away.

The others hesitate, but after a beat, they follow.

I scoff, watching them go. "Oh, so that's it? Just giving up?"

No answer.

"What happened to all that determination, Sparkle?" I taunt, but my voice feels off, like I'm not quite sure why I'm still talking. "You don't wanna analyze me anymore? No detailed report on my psychological state?"

Still, nothing.

I let out a sharp laugh, shifting where I sit. "Wow. Didn't think you were the type to quit."

Twilight keeps walking.

I can hear their hooves against the dirt, the way they slow, like maybe they want to turn back, but Twilight stays steady. And they follow her.

The knot in my chest tightens.

This isn't how this was supposed to go.

I was supposed to be the one walking away, the one shutting the door, the one deciding when the conversation ended.

Not her.

Not them.

I push myself up, my hooves still unsteady. "You're just gonna leave? Just like that?"

Nothing.

Twilight doesn't even glance back.

I feel something ugly rise in my throat, something sharp and too real. I shove it down, forcing a grin that no one's even looking at. "Fine. Great talk, everypony. Real productive!"

Still, no response.

They round the corner.

They're gone.

I exhale sharply, shoving the door open with more force than necessary and slamming it behind me.

The house is silent.

Too silent.

I pace, ears flicking, tail lashing. My thoughts are a jumbled mess of irritation and something I don't want to name.

I won.

Didn't I?

I didn't have to talk. I didn't have to explain. I didn't have to do anything.

So why does this feel like a loss?

I shake my head, stomping over to my bed and flopping down. The silence is wrong.I don't like it.

But I'm tired.

I shut my eyes.

It still bugs me.

It bugs me until I sleep.

---

I wake up groggy, the remnants of uneasy sleep clinging to me like cobwebs. My body still aches, not from injuries—I checked—but from something deeper. Something that sits under my ribs like a stone.

I shove it down. Again.

Breakfast is a simple affair. Something quick, something thoughtless. I don't feel like eating, but my body moves through the motions anyway, shoving food into my mouth as if sheer routine will force the unease out of me.

It doesn't.

The silence in my house is unbearable.

I need to move.

So, I do.

I wander.

Hooves against dirt, against cobblestone. Through the market, past chatter and laughter and the sounds of a town moving on.

Like nothing happened.

Like I wasn't a monster in these very streets just yesterday.

Ponies glance my way, some more cautious than usual, others blissfully ignorant. I see Lyra and Bon Bon, Roseluck arranging flowers, Davenport advertising his sofas and quills. Everything is normal.

And I hate it.

I keep walking.

Not thinking.

Not planning.

Just walking.

Then I stop.

I blink.

Oh.

I'm standing in front of Golden Oaks Library.

I scowl.

Why?

Why am I here?

I know why, but I don't want to acknowledge it.

I could turn around.

I should turn around.

I don't.

I just stand there, tail flicking, ears twitching, staring at the door like it's somehow going to change anything.

But the problem isn't the door.

It's the fact that I can't stop thinking about yesterday.

About Twilight turning her back on me.

About the way she walked away without a word.

About the silence.

I grit my teeth, exhaling sharply.

This is stupid.

This is so stupid.

I don't care.

I shouldn't care.

And yet, my legs won't move.

The knot in my chest tightens.

I scowl at the door for a long moment, debating with myself.

Then, against all logic, I push it open and step inside.

The library is as it always is—quiet, filled with the faint scent of parchment and ink. The shelves are meticulously organized, books tucked neatly into their places, scrolls stacked with an almost obsessive precision.

And at the center of it all, sitting at her usual desk, quill in hoof, eyes scanning a thick tome, is Twilight Sparkle.

She doesn't look up.

I pause.

This is fine.

I can work with this.

I clear my throat dramatically, striding in like I own the place. "Ah, my favorite overly studious unicorn! Fancy seeing you here in your own home!"

No reaction.

My grin falters for half a second before I push on. "No greeting? No eye twitch? No exasperated sigh?" I click my tongue. "Twilight, are you sick? Should I check for a fever? Call a doctor? Maybe an exorcist?"

Nothing.

I frown slightly, tilting my head. "Twilight?"

She turns a page, completely unbothered, as if I'm not even there.

The knot in my chest tightens.

Oh.

I… don't like this.

I don't like this at all.

I saunter closer, keeping my tone light. "Come on, Sparkle, ignoring me? That's just petty." I lean on the desk. "I mean, I know I have a deeply punchable face, but usually, you at least grace me with a sigh before telling me to shut up."

Still nothing.

Not a flicker of acknowledgment.

My ears twitch. I force a smirk. "Ooooh,I get it. You're trying to play my game. Giving me the silent treatment, huh? Classic move. Almost impressive." I straighten. "Buuut I hate to break it to you, Sparkle, you're really bad at this. See, I thrive in silence. I live in it. I bathe in it." I pause, then shudder. "Okay, bad phrasing, but you get the point."

No response.

My chest tightens further.

I frown, ears flicking. "Twilight."

Nothing.

I take a step back, something uncomfortable curling in my stomach.

This isn't how this works.

I push. She pushes back. I taunt. She snaps. I frustrate her. She fumes. That's the game.

But this?

This is worse.

This is nothing.

I shift on my hooves. "Alright, fine. You win this round." I turn sharply. "I'll just go."

Nothing.

I walk to the door, but… I hesitate.

Just for a second.

She doesn't stop me.

And that stings far more than I expected.

step out of the library, the door clicking shut behind me. The air feels heavier now, pressing against my coat like a weight I can't shake.

This is fine.

Twilight's being stubborn. That's all.

I can handle this.

I roll my shoulders, force my usual smirk back into place, and start walking toward the market. The sounds of Ponyville life carry on as usual—ponies chatting, carts rolling, the occasional foal laughing in the distance.

Normal.

I need normal.

And who better to provide some good, honest, down-to-earth annoyance than Applejack?

I spot her stand easily enough, stacked with apples in neat little pyramids, a bright sign boasting fresh produce. Applejack stands behind it, doing what she does best—selling apples and looking like she just stepped out of a country song.

Perfect.

I saunter up, smirk in place. "Ah, the hardest-working mare in Ponyville. A true vision of agricultural excellence. A real—" I tap the wooden stall with a hoof. "—pillar of the community."

Nothing.

She doesn't even look at me.

I blink.

Oh.

Oh no.

Not her too.

I clear my throat, leaning against the stand. "You know, it's real rude to ignore customers. What if I wanted to buy an apple?"

She adjusts the display, completely unfazed.

The knot in my chest tightens.

Okay. Fine.

"Applejack."

She grabs a few apples and bags them for another customer.

I narrow my eyes. "Oh, so that's how it is?" I scoff. "What, did you all have a meeting about this? 'Operation: Be As Infuriating As Kinetic'?"

No response.

I bristle. "Alright, fine. I don't even like apples, you know. Too sweet. Makes my teeth hurt."

Still nothing.

I hate this.

Applejack always has something to say. She's blunt, straightforward, and annoyingly honest. But right now?

She's acting like I don't exist.

I scowl, shoving off the stand and turning sharply. "You know what? Forget it."

She doesn't stop me.

She doesn't even glance my way.

I storm off, my tail flicking in frustration.

This is getting really annoying.

I stomp through the marketplace, irritation burning under my skin like a slow, simmering fire.

Fine. Fine. Twilight wants to play silent treatment? Whatever. Applejack's doing it too? Annoying, but manageable.

But somepony has to crack eventually.

And then, I see her.

Sweetie Belle.

She's walking near a fabric stand, looking at something with wide, interested eyes.

My chest loosens, just a little.

Sweetie Belle. My student.

If there's one pony in this entire town who won't ignore me, it's her.

I approach, putting on my usual smirk. "Hey, kid. What's up?"

She turns, ears perking up—her face lights up the second she sees me, her eyes bright and eager, like she's about to rush over.

But then—

Rarity clears her throat.

Sweetie Belle freezes.

I see it happen, in real time.

That split-second shift in her eyes, the way her hooves stop mid-step. The conflict, the hesitation. The way she wants to answer me, but she—

She doesn't.

She looks away.

Like I'm not there.

Like she was told wasn't there.

My stomach twists.

"Sweetie?" I say, my voice coming out far quieter than I meant.

She stiffens.

I look to Rarity, and she's watching me carefully—expression unreadable, chin lifted, like she's daring me to push.

I clench my jaw.

I look back to Sweetie Belle.

She's avoiding my gaze.

She won't look at me.

And it hurts.

It really hurts.

Because Sweetie has always been excited to see me. She's always run up to me, always wanted to learn, always looked at me like I was some brilliant, amazing mage who could teach her all the secrets of the world.

And now?

Now she won't even meet my eyes.

I swallow, my throat tight.

I force a smirk, but it feels like glass in my mouth. "Alright, kid. Be that way."

No answer.

I nod stiffly, turning away, my steps heavier than before.

Fine.

They really want to do this?

They really want to shut me out?

Then fine.

I can take a hint.

I walk without thinking, my hooves carrying me through Ponyville like a ghost drifting through its old haunts.

I don't know where I'm going.

Not home.

Not back to Golden Oaks.

I just move.

And somehow, I end up at Sugarcube Corner.

The bright pinks and yellows of the bakery stand out against the town, a beacon of warmth, of life. The scent of sugar and fresh pastries drifts through the air, teasing at something familiar, something comforting.

Pinkie Pie.

Pinkiehasto break first.

She's Pinkie Pie. She's never quiet. She's never still. She can't ignore anybody to save her life.

I push open the door. The little bell above jingles cheerfully.

Ponies chat at tables, sipping milkshakes, biting into muffins. Mr. and Mrs. Cake bustle behind the counter, moving with practiced ease.

And then I see her.

Pinkie stands behind the counter, wiping it down with practiced movements.

I grin, forcing energy into my voice. "Pinkie Pie! There you are! What, did you miss me? I know, I know, I'm very missable. It's been agonizing for you, hasn't it?"

She freezes.

I see it in her face—she wants to answer.

Her ears twitch, her hooves fidget, her tail flicks erratically, like she's physically holding back from bouncing over.

Her mouth even starts to form words.

But then…

She catches herself.

And stops.

Her expression twists into something tight, something wrong.

And she doesn't respond.

I stare.

I step forward, my hooves heavy. "Oh, come on, not you too."

She squeezes her eyes shut, turning her back to me, her shoulders tense.

"Pinkie," I snap, more desperate than I want to admit. "You literally can't ignore ponies, that's, like, your whole thing! Come on, laugh, say something weird, throw a cupcake at me—"

Nothing.

Not a word.

Not a giggle.

Not even a look.

The bakery suddenly feels too bright. Too warm, too fake. Like a stage, like a backdrop, like a carefully painted world that doesn't need me in it.

My stomach twists.

I step back, my legs suddenly weak.

I don't know what I expected.

I should've known.

But standing here, talking to nothing, trying to perform without an audience, trying to pull off a trick no one is watching—

I feel it.

That emptiness.

That nothing.

Just like before.

Just like when Discord twisted me into something hollow.

I thought I got away. I thought I clawed my way back.

But maybe…

Maybe he was right.

Maybe I was just noise.

Maybe I never mattered.

---

I don't know how long I stand there, staring at nothing, feeling the weight of silence press in on all sides.

Pinkie doesn't turn back.

She doesn't speak.

She just grips the counter like it's the only thing keeping her still.

And I feel something inside me crack.

I exhale slowly, my posture sagging, my ears flattening against my head.

Fine.

They win.

I turn, walking out of Sugarcube Corner with heavy, dragging steps. I don't even try to put on a show anymore. No smirk. No quip. No final jab at their ridiculous little stunt.

Because this isn't a game.

Not to them.

And if it was a game to me, I just lost.

I just walk.

Back home.

The streets feel emptier than before. The marketplace is winding down, the warm hues of late afternoon stretching over Ponyville in golden slants. I barely register any of it.

I just keep moving.

But the second my house comes into view, I stop.

Because Twilight is there.

Waiting.

She stands just outside my door, looking as patient and stubborn as ever, her hooves planted firm on the ground, her expression unreadable.

I hesitate.

I could turn around.

I could walk away.

Pretend I don't see her. Pretend this isn't happening. Pretend I don't care.

But I do.

And the thought of walking into that house—alone—sitting in that quiet, silent space with nothing but my own thoughts?

No.

No, I can't.

So I do the only thing I can do.

I step forward.

Twilight watches me carefully, not moving, not saying anything until I'm right in front of her.

Then, she tilts her head slightly. "Are you ready to talk yet?"

Her voice is calm, firm, but not soft.

She's not giving me an easy way out.

I glance at the door, then back at her.

I don't answer immediately.

Then, with a tired sigh, I lower my head.

"...Fine."

I don't want to be alone.

So I chose this instead.

I push open the door to my house, stepping aside as Twilight follows me in. The familiar glow of the floating orbs lights up the space. It's quiet.

I move toward the center of the room, my hooves heavy against the floor. Twilight closes the door behind her, standing firm, her expression unreadable.

I already regret this.

She watches me carefully before speaking. "Tell me what he did to you."

I exhale sharply, dragging a hoof down my face. "You really want to hear this?"

She doesn't flinch. "Yes."

I huff, turning away from her, staring at nothing in particular. "He didn't do anything."

Twilight frowns. "Kinetic—"

I cut her off, my voice flat. "I mean it. He didn't need to. He just talked."

I hear Twilight shift slightly, her tail flicking. "Talked?"

I nod slowly. "Said things. True things. Things I'd already thought about. He just… put them in order." My voice feels detached, like it belongs to someone else. "He didn't break me. He just let me break myself."

I let out a humorless chuckle, shaking my head.

Twilight is quiet for a moment. Then, carefully, she steps closer. "What did he say?"

I turn, looking her dead in the eye. "That I don't belong here."

She opens her mouth, but I cut her off. "That I never mattered. That every problem, every disaster, every major event? Would've played out exactly the same without me."

Twilight's ears twitch, her eyes narrowing slightly.

"That nothing I've done has changed a thing." My voice tightens, bitterness bleeding through. "That I could disappear tomorrow, and everything would go on like normal."

Twilight takes a slow breath, and I can seethe thoughts racing behind her eyes.

Twilight doesn't hesitate. "He was wrong."

I scoff. "Oh yeah? Prove it."

She lifts her chin, eyes burning with something fierce. "You helped stop Nightmare Moon."

I shake my head. "You would've figured it out anyway. You would've found the Elements, blasted her, and—bam—Luna's back. You didn't need me."

"But maybe wedid!" Twilight insists, stepping forward. "Maybe we wouldn't have found them in time! Maybe Nightmare Moon would've won without the extra time you bought us!"

I laugh, sharp and hollow. "That's a maybe, Twilight. Not proof."

She doesn't back down. "The parasprites—"

"Pinkie solved that."

"You got rid of them!" she snaps. "You exterminated most of them before Pinkie even had a chance! Without you, Ponyville could've been completely overrun! That wasn't part of some grand plan, Kinetic—that was you!"

I grit my teeth. "Yeah? And what about Discord? You had the Elements the whole time! You didn't need me for that!"

Twilight's expression darkens. "You think it all would've played out the same, but you don't know that. You can't know that!"

I hold back the bitter laugh clawing at my throat. Because I do know. I do know how it was supposed to go. The story had a script, and I wasn't in it. I was never meant to be in it.

But I can't tell her that.

So instead, I look away, voice tight. "I just think it would've happened anyway."

Twilight shakes her head, frustrated. "You're not some piece of background scenery, Kinetic. You didn't just watch things happen—you were there. You did things. You helped us."

I don't respond.

Twilight exhales sharply, eyes searching my face for something—anything. I don't know what she expects to find.

I don't move. I don't react.

She watches me for a long moment before her expression softens, frustration giving way to something quieter. "Forget all of that for a second."

I blink, wary. "What?"

She takes another step forward, steady and sure. "Forget the big things. Forget Nightmare Moon, forget Discord, forget everything that made you think you don't matter." She tilts her head. "What about us?"

I go still.

I don't like where this is going.

Twilight stares at me, unflinching. "We want you here."

I swallow, my throat suddenly dry. The same thing that stopped me before.

She doesn't stop. "Maybe the world doesn't need you to keep turning, but we want you here anyway."

Something inside me twists.

I can't stop the words before they leave my mouth. "Yeah… but I still feel useless."

The second they're out, I want to take them back.

Twilight's expression doesn't change. If anything, she looks like she expected that answer.

"Why?" she asks simply.

I clench my jaw. I don't answer.

Because if I do… then what?

What changes?

What happens if I let this conversation keep going?

Twilight waits, but I keep my mouth shut, my ears flicking back.

Then, slowly, she exhales. "You really believe that, don't you?"

I shrug, forcing an empty smirk. "Belief's a strong word."

She doesn't rise to the bait. "You think that if you disappeared, nothing would change."

I roll my eyes. "We've been over this, Sparkle."

She steps even closer. "And if we disappeared?"

I freeze.

My chest tightens.

Twilight watches me carefully. "If we were gone. If I was gone. Would it be the same?"

The answer is obvious.

No.

Of course not.

But I can't say it.

She steps back, nodding slightly, as if she's already seen the answer written all over my face.

"That's how we feel about you."

I feel sick.

I take a slow, steady breath, but it doesn't help. The weight in my chest doesn't lift. Twilight is still looking at me, expecting something—some answer, some reaction—but I don't know what she wants me to say.

I shift my weight. "That's different."

She frowns. "How?"

I scoff, waving a hoof. "Because you're you. You're Twilight Sparkle. You've got the Elements, the whole 'friendship is magic' thing, the fate of Equestria probably resting on your shoulders at all times. Of course it'd be different if you weren't here."

Her frown deepens. "And what about you?"

I hesitate.

"You've been with us this whole time," she says, firm. "You live in Ponyville. You're part of this group."

I let out a weak laugh. "Yeah, sure. The seventh wheel, hanging around the edges of the friendship super squad."

Twilight shakes her head, looking frustrated. "That's not true."

I sigh, rubbing a hoof down my face. "It is, though."

Twilight steps forward, stubborn as ever. "You were with us from the beginning."

"Was I?" I snap, sharper than I meant to. "Because that's not how I remember it."

She flinches, but she doesn't back down. "What do you mean?"

I let out a slow breath, trying to rein myself in, but something ugly and bitter is bubbling up inside me. I don't know why I say it—I've buried it for so long—but once the words start, I can't stop them.

"First day," I mutter. "First day I met you. We're going through the Everfree, following the trail to the Castle of the Two Sisters, and then the cliff gives out."

Twilight nods slowly, watching me carefully, like she's walking on unstable ground. "I remember."

I let out a dry, humorless chuckle. "Yeah? I do too." My voice tightens, my chest constricting. "I remember how the cliff broke away, how everypony else got saved."

I don't look at her when I say it. I can't.

"Applejack caught you," I continue, voice distant. "Rainbow and Fluttershy caught Pinkie. Fluttershy caught Rarity." I swallow thickly. "And I—I was just falling."

Twilight's breath catches, but she doesn't say anything.

"I wasn't fast enough," I murmur. "Didn't have wings. Didn't have magic I could actually use. I had seconds—seconds to think, to act. No safety net, no heroic rescue. Just me, alone, falling, with nothing but air." I inhale sharply, the memory clawing at my mind, fresh despite the weeks that have passed. "I had to cast a spell I'd never even tried before just to survive."

I glance at her, watching as realization dawns on her face. "The air cushion spell," she whispers.

I nod. "Didn't even know if it'd work." I scoff, shaking my head. "But it had to. Because there was no other choice."

Twilight looks like she wants to argue, wants to say something to change the narrative I've wrapped myself in, but she doesn't.

She can't.

Because it's true.

I wasn't saved. I saved myself.

I keep going before she can find the words to stop me. "And after that, my leg was shot. Couldn't run. Could barely walk. So when we ran into the manticore, I couldn't scatter like the rest of you."

Twilight looks stricken.

"Rainbow flew off. Applejack jumped back. Pinkie bounced away. Fluttershy hesitated—but even she left." I let out a hollow chuckle. "And me? I had to stand there. Had to face it. Because running wasn't an option."

"Kinetic, we—" Twilight starts, but I cut her off.

"I had to trick it," I say, voice colder than I mean it to be. "Had to make myself bigger, had to be something it wouldn't want to mess with. Used the Doppler Illusion spell in a way I never had before—mimicked the manticore right back at it." I close my eyes, letting the memory wash over me. "And it worked. It scared it, just long enough for the rest of you to do your thing."

Twilight stares, horror creeping into her expression. "We left you."

I let out a shaky breath. "You didn't do it on purpose."

"But we still did," she whispers.

I glance away. "Yeah."

The room falls into silence, heavy and suffocating.

Twilight looks like she's just been hit in the gut, her ears pinned back, her tail flicking anxiously. "I—I thought you were fine," she mutters, almost to herself. "You acted fine."

"Of course I did," I say, forcing a laugh that doesn't feel right. "Had to be fine. What else was I supposed to do? Cry about it?"

She flinches again.

For a long moment, neither of us speaks.

Then, softly, Twilight says, "Is that why you always keep your distance?"

I look at her, really look at her, and I see it—the regret, the guilt, the realization that maybe I've never truly been part of the group the way she thought I was.

I swallow, my throat tight.

I exhale sharply, looking away. "Six is a nice, even number," I mutter. "Neat. Symmetrical. Balanced."

Twilight's ears twitch. "What?"

I gesture vaguely. "Six friends. Six Elements. You each have each other. It just… works."

She frowns. "Kinetic—"

"I was never part of that," I continue, cutting her off before she can say whatever comforting thing she's trying to find. "You six? You belong together. I was just there." I wave a hoof dismissively, forcing a lopsided grin. "An extra piece in a puzzle that was already finished."

Twilight looks like she wants to argue, but she doesn't—not right away. She watches me, her expression unreadable. Then, carefully, she says, "You're wrong."

I snort. "Figures you'd say that."

Her eyes narrow slightly. "Because it's true."

I shake my head. "It doesn't matter, Twilight. It's not a bad thing. You don't need a seventh wheel clunking up the harmony."

Twilight takes a slow, measured breath. "You're not some extra piece."

I force a laugh. "Sure feels like it."

She steps closer, her gaze sharp. "Then why did we come after you?"

I raise an eyebrow.

She doesn't stop. "If you were just 'extra,' if you didn't matter, why did we try to help? Why did I sit outside your house and yell at you? Why did it hurt when you pushed us away?"

My mouth opens, but nothing comes out.

Twilight takes another step forward. "Why does it hurt now?"

I look away, my throat dry.

She exhales, quieter this time. "You think we don't care, but we do. We always have."

I let out a hollow chuckle, still not looking at her. "You have a funny way of showing it."

Twilight flinches, but she doesn't back down. "We made mistakes," she admits. "We should have seen it sooner. I should have seen it sooner." She swallows, voice firm. "But that doesn't mean you don't belong with us."

I clench my jaw, my shoulders tight.

She watches me for a moment, waiting, but I don't say anything.

So she sighs, shaking her head. "Six is a nice, even number," she says quietly. "But seven's always felt lucky to me."

I scoff, the sound weak. "Lucky. Right."

Twilight doesn't react to my dismissal. She just studies me, like she's trying to piece something together. Then, carefully, she asks, "What were you? Before."

The words land heavier than I expect.

I freeze.

She watches me, expectant. "When Discord corrupted you, you changed. That form—you weren't a pony." She hesitates. "What… was that?"

I let out a slow breath. I could lie. I should lie.

"A human."

Twilight blinks. "A… what?"

"A human," I repeat, trying not to let the word weigh too much in my mouth.

Her brows furrow, her mind already dissecting the information. "That doesn't sound like anything from Equestria."

"It's not."

She blinks again, her tail flicking as the pieces start to form in her head. "...You're saying you're not from Equestria."

I nod. "Not originally, no."

Her breath catches, but she doesn't interrupt.

I rub my temple, trying to find the right words. "The Princesses already know."

And that gets a reaction.

Twilight's ears flatten, and her eyes narrow slightly. "You told the Princesses," she says, a sharp edge to her voice, "but not me?"

I shift uncomfortably. "It wasn't exactly something I could keep from them forever."

She steps forward, her tail flicking. "And yet, you did keep it from me."

I frown. "It's not like it came up naturally in conversation, Twilight."

Her nostrils flare, but she reins it in. "When?"

I blink. "What?"

"When did you tell them?" she clarifies, her tone more controlled now, but no less irritated. "How long have they known?"

I hesitate, but there's no point in dodging it. "...After the Archmage Examination."

Twilight exhales sharply through her nose. "So, what? You just… decided I didn't need to know?"

I shrug. "They sort of figured it out. Once they caught on that I was lying."

Her eyes sharpen immediately. "Lying about what?"

Damn it.

I freeze, just for a second.

It's enough.

Twilight steps closer. "Lying about what, Kinetic?"

I swallow, shifting slightly. "It's not—"

"Not what?" She doesn't back down, her frustration mounting. "Not important? Not relevant? Because it sounds relevant!"

I glance away, ears flattening. "Just… things."

"Like?" she presses.

I grit my teeth. "Like things, Twilight."

She narrows her eyes. "Kinetic."

I sigh, rubbing my face. "Look, it's nothing that changes anything, okay? It's just—"

"—another thing you didn't tell us," she finishes, voice tight.

I huff. "Oh, come on, Twilight, don't act like—"

"Like what?" She glares at me. "Like I thought we were friends?"

The words hit harder than I expect.

I don't say anything.

Twilight shakes her head, her frustration boiling over. "Do you even trust me?"

I open my mouth. Pause.

I don't know how to answer that.

Her ears flick back, hurt bleeding into her expression. "...Do you?"

I sigh heavily, dragging a hoof down my face. Every fiber of my being screams at me not to say it, not to let it out. But Twilight is relentless. She's already cracked open too much, and now she's digging for the rest.

I can't win this.

So, against my better judgment, I say it.

"I don't know magic."

Twilight blinks. "...What?"

I shift uncomfortably, my tail flicking. "I don't know magic. Not really."

Her brow furrows. "That doesn't make sense. You cast spells all the time—advanced spells! I've seen you!"

I exhale sharply. "Yeah, well. Turns out, you don't actually need to know magic to fake it."

Her eyes widen, her mind already racing. "But—your illusions. Your heating and cooling spells—"

I shake my head. "Not magic."

She stares at me like I just told her the sky was green.

"But—" she sputters, "—but the Doppler Illusion—"

I sigh, shifting my weight. "It's not an illusion, Twilight."

She shakes her head. "But Isaw—"

"It's just oscillating particles," I cut in. "I manipulate small particles—dust, chalk, whatever's in the air—and make them oscillate at different speeds. That's what changes the apparent wavelength of light. I'm not warping reality, Twilight—I'm redirecting it."

She reels back, like she's trying to process the words but can't make them fit. "How?"

I hesitate. Then, reluctantly, I answer. "Telekinesis."

Twilight's jaw tightens. "What?"

"All of it," I mutter, my voice low, like I can hide the words even as I say them. "The air cushion? That was just me condensing air molecules together with telekinesis until they were dense enough to catch me." I shrug, the motion empty. "My heating and cooling spells? Just vibrating or slowing down atoms. Even my so-called illusions—they're just physics."

Twilight inhales sharply. "Physics."

I nod.

There's a beat of silence.

Then, suddenly, Twilight's eyes light up with something dangerous.

"I knew that meant something!" she exclaims, stomping her hoof. "I knew it!"

I blink. "...What?"

She glares at me, frustrated but vindicated. "You said that word before! In your house! a week ago! I knew it meant something important, but you just brushed it off!" Her ears flick back. "I knew your magic was strange, but I couldn't figure out why!"

I let out a tired groan, rubbing my temples. "Yeah, well. I was trying to avoid telling you."

Twilight, in true Twilight fashion, is already spiraling into full-on academic discovery mode. Her ears are perked, her eyes bright with excitement, and I can feel the gears in her head turning at dangerous speeds.

"Do you realize what this means?" she practically shouts, her ears twitching in excitement. "Magic that doesn't require a mental chant or a visualized pattern! No spell matrices, no Ancient Equestrian—just direct manipulation of the world through sheer will!"

I groan loudly. "And this is why I didn't want to tell you."

She's not even listening.

"If you're not visualizing spell structures," she continues, already pacing, "then that means you're interacting with magic at a purely instinctual level! No formulas, no standardized frameworks—just raw manipulation!" She whirls back to me. "This is incredible!"

"It's really not," I mutter.

"But it is!" She stomps a hoof, nearly vibrating with excitement. "If you're not casting spells, but still achieving spell-like effects, that means magic can be applied in a completely different way than we ever thought possible!" She gasps suddenly. "This could revolutionize spellcraft! If we can understand how you do it, we might be able to create entirely new fields of study! New disciplines! Maybe even—"

"Twilight," I cut in, "my magic isn't the same as yours."

She stops, blinking. "...What do you mean?"

I exhale sharply. "Real spells—actual magic—break physics. They let you do things that shouldn't be possible. Teleportation? It ignores Causality, the uncertainty principle, and I'm pretty sure the second law of thermodynamics. Transformation spells? They alter mass and composition in ways that should violate every natural law."

Twilight frowns slightly, but she doesn't interrupt.

I gesture vaguely. "But my ' magic'? It doesn't break physics. It is physics. I'm not changing the rules—I'm playing within them."

She stares at me, processing. Then, slowly, she says, "Then… It's not the same as casting spells."

"Exactly," I say, nodding. "It's not magic at all. It's just an advanced application of force."

Twilight's frown deepens. "But you're still using telekinesis."

I shrug. "Yeah, but I'm not using it like a spellcaster would. I'm not shaping reality—I'm just manipulating what's already there. Your magic creates effects. Mine just...nudges things really, really hard."

She stares at me for a moment longer, and I think—for one blessed second—that she's finally going to let it go.

Then she shakes her head, eyes glinting with determination. "No."

I groan. "Twilight—"

"No, listen!" She steps forward, eyes burning with that 'I just discovered something groundbreaking and I am not letting it go' energy. "If you're manipulating the world through telekinesis alone, then that means you've developed an entire system of spellwork—without actually using spellwork. Kinetic—that's a whole new school of magic!"

I blink.

That—that is a stretch.

"Twilight," I say, already exhausted, "this isn't some new school of magic. It's just science applied to telekinesis."

"But that's the point!" she argues, eyes wild. "If nopony else uses magic this way, then it's something entirely new! Do you understand what this means?" She starts pacing again, her mind already sprinting ahead. "It means there's a way to use magic outside of spell matrices! It means there are alternatives to complex, time-intensive spells! It means—"

"—that I'm going to have to deal with you geeking out about this for the rest of my life, doesn't it?" I groan, dragging a hoof down my face.

Twilight completely ignores me. "It means we've only been using magic in one way because that's how we've always used it! But you—" she jabs a hoof at me, her eyes blazing with academic fervor, "—you've proved there's another way! A way that doesn't require runes or predefined energy structures! If we study this, if we can understand it, we could rewrite everything we know about spellcraft!"

I back up slightly. "Okay, no, let's not start rewriting fundamental laws just because I got creative with telekinesis."

"But that's exactly why we should!" she insists, stepping closer, looking half-tempted to shake me. "Magic has always been this vast, untouchable force that we manipulate through structure and theory, but you're showing me that it's—it's just the world! That the rules of magic might just be the rules of nature expressed differently!"

I huff. "I told you that's not how it works."

Twilight lets out a sharp exhale. "Kinetic, you're missing the point!"

"Am I, though?" I smirk. "Because to me, the point is that you're now going to be even more annoying about this."

She groans loudly. "Of courseyou would turn a magical revolution into me being annoying."

"Because you are!" I shoot back, exasperated. "Do you have any idea how insufferable you're going to be now? I could've kept my mouth shut and lived a normal life, but nooo, you just had to keep digging."

Twilight levels a deadpan look at me. "You? A normal life? Please."

I sputter. "I could have!"

She rolls her eyes. "Right. Because 'Archmage Charlatan Extraordinaire' screams normal."

I scowl, crossing my hooves. "I was doing just fine before you got involved."

"Uh-huh. And by 'fine,' you mean 'lying to everypony constantly and bottling up all your problems until you exploded?'" She raises a brow. "So fine."

I glare at her. "Extremely fine."

Twilight sighs, shaking her head. "Look, I get why you didn't want to tell me, but don't you see how important this is?" She softens slightly, the fire in her eyes dimming just a little. "You're not just some fraud tricking everypony into thinking you're a mage. You are one—you're just working with a different rulebook."

I shift uncomfortably. "Yeah, well. Still doesn't feel like it."

She gives me a look. "Too bad."

I groan dramatically. "Great.Just what I always wanted—an overenthusiastic scholar dissecting my every move."

Twilight grins. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

"It is a bad thing!"

"You'll get used to it."

"Doubt."

She rolls her eyes but doesn't push further. Instead, she steps back, watching me carefully. "You know… you could teach this."

I blink. "Excuse me?"

Twilight tilts her head. "You already have a student—Sweetie Belle. And from what I've seen, she adores learning from you."

I shift uncomfortably. "Yeah, because she doesn't know I've been lying to her."

"Have you?" Twilight challenges. "Or have you just been teaching her your kind of magic?"

I open my mouth. Close it. Scowl.

She smirks. "Exactly."

I shake my head. "Look, let's not get ahead of ourselves. You are not dragging me into some grand lecture series on 'Applied Mathemagics' I am not about to become some kind of—ugh—professor."

Twilight hums. "We'll see."

"No, Twilight."

"We'll see," she repeats, smirking.

I let out the loudest, most theatrical groan I can manage, because I already know I've lost.

Twilight stretches her legs and gives me a final, victorious smirk, clearly pleased with herself. I glare at her, already regretting every single word I've said tonight.

"Well," she says, turning towards the door, "I think I've gotten everything I needed out of you for now."

"Great," I mutter. "Feel free to never come back."

She snorts. "Not a chance."

Then she pauses, glancing back at me. Her smug expression shifts into something more thoughtful. "I'll let the others know."

I frown. "Know what?"

She tilts her head. "About what happened. About how you felt. How you still feel."

My stomach drops. "Twilight, no."

"They deserve to know."

"Absolutely not." I step forward, ears flattening. "That's not something you just tell ponies."

She raises a brow. "Why not?"

I scowl, my tail flicking sharply. "Because it's not done. You don't—" I struggle for the words, my voice tightening. "You don't just go around spilling things like that. You deal with it. You move on."

Twilight frowns. "That's not moving on, Kinetic. That's just ignoring it."

I shake my head. "They didn't mean to leave me behind, Twilight! They didn't even know! It's not like they set out to screw me over! It just—" I exhale sharply, frustrated. "It just happened. It's not some grand betrayal. It's not something that needs to be dragged back up."

Twilight's gaze softens. "But it still hurt you."

I bristle. "Yeah? So what?" I gesture vaguely. "That's life! Things happen, you deal with it, you keep going!"

She studies me for a long moment. "That's what you were raised to believe, isn't it?"

I scoff. "Of course it is."

Her eyes narrow slightly. "And how's that been working out for you?"

I stiffen.

She nods like she already knew the answer. "I thought so."

I glare at her. "This isn't fair."

She shrugs. "Neither was you thinking we didn't care about you for weeks."

I grind my teeth. "Twilight."

She sighs, shaking her head. "They deserve to know, Kinetic. They'll want to know. And they'll want to make it up to you."

I groan, dragging a hoof down my face. "That's exactly what I don't want."

Twilight gives me a small, knowing smile. "Yeah, well. Too bad."

I groan again, dramatically flopping onto my couch. "You're the worst."

"Just returning the favor," she says breezily, opening the door.

"Twilight, don't."

She winks. "See you tomorrow!"

And with that, she trots off, leaving me alone with my horrible life choices.

I let my head fall back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling.

This is going to be a disaster.