Octavia opened her eyes to find herself standing in a room that was immediately familiar. She was struck by how little had changed. From the countless assorted instruments lying scattered about to the heavy, sound-blocking curtains draping the walls to the blackboard covered in musical notation, every detail was exactly as it had been seventeen years ago, on her very first day of school. And there in the center of her old Manehattan music room sat a red colt struggling with a cello. Each of its strings was horribly out of tune and all the foal’s efforts to fix them only succeeded in making them worse.
With a pang of nostalgic sympathy she smiled and moved to help. To her great bemusement her hoofsteps would not take her any closer to the colt. She blinked for a moment, then tried walking in another direction to no effect. Sprinting, jumping, and shuffling all proved equally useless. No matter what she tried, she remained in exactly the same spot. She sat down and bit her lip, paralyzed by a sudden and overwhelming feeling of helplessness. It was in that moment that the room’s single door swung open and Octavia could again do nothing but blink.
There in the doorway stood an unmistakable grey filly in a pink bowtie. Octavia didn't bother trying to reconcile this with logic. Deciding rather to accept her lack of control, she laid down, content to watch her nearly-forgotten memory play out.
Octavia’s younger self approached the colt, a slight frown creasing her face. “Do you need any help with that?” she asked after regarding him for a second. He jumped, nearly dropping the cello.
“Oh, Celestia, I’m sorry, I was just tuning this cello here, but it wasn’t going very well and so I was focusing really hard on it and so I didn’t hear you come in and...um...I...um...yes, yes I do,” he finished lamely. The young Octavia began to giggle and the colt’s face broke into a sheepish grin. “Thanks,” he said, giving the cello to her.
“No problem,” she replied as she began to tune the instrument with the careful, deliberate speed of a talented novice. “I can teach you to do this yourself if you like.”
“Oh, wow, I don’t know, I mean, are you sure you want to? I mean, I’m not very good, I think, I mean, I really-”
“Look,” she said, cutting him off, “do you want to get better or not?”
“Well, sure, but-”
“Then that’s that.” She paused. “I’m Octavia, but my friends call me Octy. And you are?”
“My name’s Allegro con Brio, but my fr- er, well, that is, you can call me Brio,” he said, running a hoof through his wild yellow mane.
“Pleased to meet you, Brio,” she replied, at which he gave her a relieved smile.
No sooner had the words been spoken than Octavia felt her surroundings begin to blur. When the world rematerialized she was standing in front of an ornate, imposing house. Her family’s house. She took a tentative step toward the street and sighed when she found herself still unable to move. From afar she saw Brio, now eight years older, walking slowly towards her, head hanging so low that it nearly dragged on the sidewalk. He took no notice of her. Octavia sighed again. She knew exactly what day it was.
As he approached the large house, Brio drew himself up and put on a rough approximation of a smile before thinking better of it and letting his face drop. He took a deep breath and knocked on the door with a trembling hoof. The young Octavia answered. “Oh, hi, Brio. I haven’t seen you in a while; you weren’t at rehearsal last week. How are you?”
“Octy, we need to talk.”
“Okay, but it will have to be tomorrow; Father is taking us out for dinner and we are leaving in just a few minutes.”
Brio’s eyes shot open and he shook his head violently. “No! No, no, no, it has to be now. Please!” he cried.
“Well, you had better make it quick,” she said, concern now making its way onto her face. She gave him a small smile. “Now I know that’s not your strong suit, but-”
“But- But I- I don’t-” He paused for a moment to collect himself. “Okay. The cost of rent on the houses here is really expensive and Mom hasn’t been able to work because she’s been sick lately and the bills are starting to pile up and Dad’s getting really mad and he says that back in Canterlot we could live with my grandpa for half of what we pay here and-”
“Brio,” she interrupted gently.
“Um, yes?”
“Are you trying to tell me that you’re moving?”
“I...yes.”
“Well, make sure you keep in touch.”
“But...that’s...You don’t get it!” he said, on the verge of tears.
“Sure I do. It’s okay. I’ll miss you, but it’s okay,” she said as she pulled him into a hug.
“No!” he shouted, jerking out of the embrace. “You’re...you’re my,” he hesitated. “You’re my stand partner.”
The young Octavia couldn’t help laughing a little, a reaction that filled her older counterpart with shame. “You’ll get another one. Besides,” she said encouragingly, “without me around you’ll finally get a chance to be first chair. You’re a better player than you give yourself credit for.”
“But I don’t-”
From inside the house came the sound of clocks chiming. “I am sorry, Brio, but I need to go.”
Brio gnashed his teeth. “You can go out to eat any time. This is my last day in town. You can’t go now, you just...you just can’t!”
“I want to stay, I really do, and if it was up to me, I would, but we already have reservations and Father will be angry. Be sure to write.” And with a heavy sigh she closed the door.
“Don’t!” Octavia shouted at herself, realizing the futility of it even as she did so. The others couldn’t seem to see her; it made sense that they wouldn’t be able to hear her either.
“But it is up to you!” cried Brio. “And I. Don’t. Want. First. Chair!” he said, punctuating each word by stamping his hoof. “I just want to stay with you,” he finished, almost in a whisper. He lingered on the doorstep for another minute before sprinting away from the house and down the road.
As soon as he had vanished into the distance Octavia saw him running back towards her, a cello case strapped to his back. “This must be six years ago...three years since that day,” she mumbled to herself, dazed. “Oh, no.”
Brio, now on the verge of becoming a stallion, ran up the path and collapsed in front of her, panting like a bellows. He took a moment to gather his breath and his courage and knocked on the door. Octavia’s younger self answered. “Brio! Why are you here...and why didn’t you write?” she demanded, equal parts joyous and indignant.
“I tried, Celestia knows, I tried so hard, but I just couldn’t. I used to write out ten-page letters every week, but every time I got to the mailbox, I froze. I mean, what if you replied and it just wasn’t the same? Or what if it was and it just made me miss you even more? Or...or what if you never replied at all? I mean, I just...” He sighed. “I’m sorry.”
She softened. “So...so you didn’t write to any of your friends?” she asked.
Brio took a long time before answering, his face unreadable. “Yes,” he said at last.
The young Octavia considered this for a moment. “I’m sorry,” she said. “But why are you here? Why now?”
With something between a smile and a grimace, Brio cleared his throat and began. “Well, you know I had to move because money was getting tight and so we went to Canterlot to live with my grandpa and things were good for a while but then about a year ago Mom- um, I mean, about a year ago things got worse and then Dad started dri- and then Dad started having to take time off from work. Just a little while ago Grandpa went, um, went to go live in a retirement home and then Dad left...that is, Dad left to go find a new, better paying job, but he hasn’t come back yet.”
The young mare furrowed her brow. “So you’re here because...?”
“Oh! Right, just getting to that part. Yeah, so, well, I was getting lonely with the apartment all to myself and I didn’t want to be a burden, because, you know, money’s tight and all, so I decided to come out here to look for work and to see y- everypony again.”
“That’s great. If you need anything at all, I’ll be right here for you.” Brio began to fidget. “What?”
“Well, um, I was actually hoping that I could stay here. For a little while, I mean. When I decided to leave Canterlot I didn’t actually, you know, plan ahead much...well, at all. So I’m kind of, technically, um, homeless.”
“I don’t see why n-” she began, but before she could finish she was interrupted by a booming voice from deep within the house.
“Octavia, you’ve been at the door for a long time, who are you talking to?” it rumbled, sending shivers down both the younger and the elder Octavias’ spines.
“Just a friend, Father,” she called before turning back to Brio. “If it was up to me, you could stay here, but Father...Father will say no.”
“It couldn’t hurt to ask, right?”
“No, but it would just be a waste of time. I know what he would say.”
“You never really know until you try, right? Right?” The pleading note in his voice was lost on the younger Octavia, though the older one caught it and hung her head.
“Sorry. Father is Father. It’s just not worth it. Ask somepony else, I’m sure you have plenty of houses to choose from,” she said, shutting the door.
“Not worth it,” mumbled Brio, kicking the dirt as he turned away to stumble down the path and out of town.
Octavia felt the scene shifting again. She closed her eyes. “Not Canterlot, not Canterlot, please,” she moaned before opening them to find herself outside the Royal Conservatory of Equestria. She cursed softly. “Why? Why do I have to see this again?” No answer was forthcoming, and she resigned herself to sitting and watching the scene unfold.
Her younger self, now twenty years old, was sitting on a park bench and enjoying a lunch of dandelions and alfalfa. She took no notice when a young stallion sat down beside her until he spoke. “Thought I’d find you somewhere around here. Didn’t think it’d be this easy, though. You know, it feels weird being in Canterlot again. Never thought I’d come back. Four years...it's not as long as you'd think.” It took a moment for the voice to register, but when it finally did she choked on her latest mouthful.
“What- I- How-” she stammered before regaining her wits and shouting, “Four years! Four years without a letter, without a word, and that’s all you have to say? No ‘how have you been’ or ‘what have you been doing lately?’ Nothing?”
Brio’s face took on a dark look for a moment. “I assumed you were doing well. I didn’t think asking a question I thought I knew the answer to would be worth it.” He shook his head. “Whatever, that’s not the point. Point is, my band’s playing a few shows in Canterlot before the tour moves on. Two of the three are sold out, but I’ve got an extra ticket for tonight’s. I was hoping you would come.”
“Wait, wait, wait. Your band?”
“Oh, yeah. Right. So after the last time we saw each other I kind of lost interest in playing cello. Something about it just didn’t feel right, you know? Anyway, I still wanted to play music, of course, so I started learning bass guitar, which is sort of like the cello but not really, at least, it’s different enough that I don’t have to think about...uh, well, it’s different. Anyway, playing in a band is really great, all of us have become pretty good friends and we’re just starting to get pretty big and every time we play a show everypony knows all our names. I mean, for the first time I feel like I’ve got lots of ponies who-”
“Brio,” said the young Octavia with a hoof to her face.
“Yeah?”
“I’m really sorry, but I’ve got rehearsal tonight. I can’t just-”
“Octy. Have you ever missed a rehearsal in your life?”
“Of course I have. Two...no, three years ago, I had-”
“Three years ago? Really?” Brio cut her off, laughing bitterly. “They can do without you for one night, come on, come see the show. It means a lot to me.”
“Brio, I don’t have a choice here; I can’t just not go to rehearsal.”
“Yes! Yes, you do, and yes, you can. You’ve always got a choice. You’ve always had a choice. You just won’t admit it.” He gave her a hollow smile. “Which is still a choice, you know.”
“You’re being selfish. Look, maybe if you’d told me earlier, I-”
“You know what, no, just...just forget it. I’ll probably play better if you’re not there anyway. You know what they say, ‘a broken heart will sell many records,’ or something like that.”
“A...what?”
“Forget it,” he said over his shoulder, already walking away.
“Wait!” called both Octavias in unison.
“Forget it!” he shouted before breaking into a gallop and disappearing from view. Even two years later, Octavia could not be sure whether she felt more angry or guilty about the exchange, nor could she decide whether she was angry at Brio or herself.
And, once again, the scene began to shift. “No! No, I don’t want to see this! I’m done! No more!” she screamed, well aware of the pointlessness of it but beyond caring. She didn’t have to look around to know that she was in her apartment, three months before the present day. The past Octavia had just sat down with a cup of freshly brewed tea when she heard a knock on the door and went to answer it.
There in the hallway stood Brio. His mane was a twisted, tangled mess and his face looked gaunt. Dark circles rimmed each of his eyes and a collection of cuts and scrapes lined his coat. Still he smiled. “Hey, Octy. Been a while.”
“Oh Celestia, what happened to you? I heard your band broke up four months ago and then nothing. Just...nothing; nopony knows where you’ve been.”
“Oh, yeah, I’ve been...traveling. Spent a lot of time in train stations. Really unique experience, you meet tons of interesting ponies...It’s funny, really, just a year ago they’d have to keep the crowds away when I walked through one.” He laughed unconvincingly. “Now I’m just another bum they’ll pass by without a thought. They don’t even recognize me.”
“What about the band? What happened?”
“Oh, that,” he said, waving a hoof. “It was weird, one day it was great, we were all friends and stuff and then the next we just...weren’t. I dunno. I’ve been thinking about a solo career, you know, but nopony really cares about hearing a bassist, so I’ve been thinking maybe I’d try learning guitar or something...” He trailed off, then shook his head. “But that’s not why I’m here. I need you to come with me to the city cemetery, okay?” He paused, then added, “Please.”
“Fine, but can you at least tell me why?”
“Later.”
The next instant, Octavia was standing in Canterlot Cemetery, watching Brio and her past self approach a lonely grave. “So it’s been ten minutes since you’ve said a word,” said the younger Octavia. “Are you going to tell me what- Oh. Oh, I see,” she said, getting close enough to read the inscription on the stone.
“Yeah.”
“Seven years ago to this day...you never told me.”
“Yeah.”
“Can I...Can I ask why?”
“I didn’t want to face it myself, you know. I don’t think I could have even if I did. I mean, I was only fifteen when she went. And then Grandpa went senile and then Dad...Celestia, I still don’t know where he is, the worthless, drunken, son of a-” He stopped himself and took a moment to calm down. “And then Dad left. I thought if I never talked about it, never even thought about it, it’d sort of...go away, you know? With you everything used to be so simple. I didn’t want to ruin that. But I was just being stupid. You, the band, everything, I was just running, but I can’t run anymore, it’s caught up to me.”
“What do you mean by that?”
He sighed. “I don’t even know.”
“Are you going to be alright?”
“Yeah. I’ll be fine. You don’t have to stay here, you know. I’m okay here by myself.”
“Okay,” she said after a moment’s hesitation. “Make sure you keep in touch this time.”
“Sure.”
Octavia’s head began to spin. This is it, she thought. This moment. Why am I seeing this? Why? There must be some reason...something I can do. Something... She felt sicker to her stomach with each passing moment as she watched herself walk away. Finally, with her past self little more than a speck in the distance, she could take no more. “No!” she shrieked, louder than she thought possible. “No, don’t you dare! You’re not walking away! Not again, not this time! You can’t!” To her amazement, the barriers between her and the rest of the dream had broken down. Brio’s head jerked up and her past self dissolved into mist.
“Octy, uh, what?”
She dashed to him, barely noticing that she could actually move. “I’m not leaving you alone, not again. You don’t even have a place to stay, do you?”
“Well, no, but-”
“But nothing. You’re staying with me until you get back on your hooves. For Celestia’s sake, look at you! You probably haven’t slept indoors in a month. We’re going to get you a job, we’ll get you in therapy, we’ll find you an apartment, we...we...we’re going to get you through this, dammit!”
And, for the first time in nine years, Octavia saw Brio look well and truly happy.
Octavia woke and, after failing to fall back asleep, dragged herself to the bathroom. She gazed into the mirror to see a pony she barely recognized. Her eyes were bloodshot, her ears drooped, and her normally well-groomed mane was an unwashed mess. Sighing, she headed for the kitchen to eat a breakfast of cold oatmeal in silence. With an overwhelming sense of dread she picked up the three-day-old newspaper still lying on the floor where she’d left it.
There in the obituaries section, just as it had been three days ago, was the headline: “Young Musician Found Dead in Manehattan Motel, Cause of Death Unknown.” Shuddering, she threw the paper across the room and buried her head in her hooves. Though the dream had ended she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was still caught in a nightmare.
