Octavia ran a hoof around the edge of her cup and sighed. She was was seated at a table in the back corner of the auditorium with five empty chairs for company. Most of the nearby tables were completely empty, save for a few that’d been requisitioned by couples wanting a secluded spot. Almost everypony else, including her friends, was seated near the stage in the section reserved for performers.
Tomorrow morning, she’d be graduating from the Canterlot Academy of Music; a university full of prestige, honor, and snooty professors who routinely told this to anypony within earshot. Such an institution wasn’t supposed to host performances like this. When she first heard about the so-called graduation party, a night of musical performances by groups of graduating students, she’d expected two solid hours of the usual aural agony; a long string of classical masterpieces butchered by students trying to show off. Nopony here played anything fun in their free time, not when there was ego-stroking to be done.
Why did all of that have to change tonight?
The current act on stage, a quartet consisting of a violin, tuba, mandolin, and harmonica, summed the evening up perfectly. The very concept of playing those four instruments in such close proximity was absurd, and yet they’d made it work. They were belting out a catchy, goofy tune that had the audience stomping their hooves in time with the beat. It was innovative, unexpected, and, she had to admit, fun. Fun that she wasn’t part of.
Applause filled the auditorium and the quartet took a bow. As they left the stage somepony from the faculty came up to introduce the next group. “Let’s give another round of applause to group number five!”
Her friends were in group ten. She just had to sit through five more songs to give her them the support they deserved. If only she’d listened to the them and signed up to perform as well. Even playing something boring would be better than sitting here with her hooves itching for the double bass gathering dust in her dorm room. She’d even settle for her cello.
She stared into her empty cup, catching her reflection in the base. “You’re so lazy, Octavia. So what if the double bass is as big as you are? You could’ve dragged it across campus one more time… so what if that’s what you’ve been doing for four y—”
A stallion cleared his throat nearby. He was the violin player from the last act. “H-hey. Can… can I join you?”
She couldn’t see him that clearly in the low light. From what she could recall from his time on the stage he was light brown with a dark brown mane. A violin case was balanced on his back.
“I know you, don’t I? C-something… Cantata?”
“Concerto.”
“Sorry. Aren’t you Symphony’s friend?”
“Kind of, yeah. So… could I…”
“Oh! Oh sure, you can sit here. I can’t imagine why you’d want to, though.”
He took a chair one over from hers and set the violin case on the table. “I could see you from the stage; you looked lonely.”
She pressed down on her cup until it collapsed. “It’s that obvious, huh?”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean—”
“It’s fine. I’m just waiting for my friends in group ten. Who knows, maybe Vinyl will show up and make me wait for her act too.”
His face lit up. “Vinyl Scratch? She’s performing?”
“If she wakes up on time. She sleeps so much you’d think she’s hibernating through the winter.”
“You’re her roommate, right? What’s she like?”
“Aside from the sleeping thing she’s actually a good friend. One time we…” She frowned and her gaze returned to her cup. “Oh… that’s why you’re talking to me.”
“What do you—”
“Pleased to meet you.” She held out a hoof. “My name is Vinyl’s Roommate. Just give me your stupid room number or something and I’ll give it to her. Can I interest you in a list of her top ten likes and dislikes?”
He held up his hooves defensively. “Wait, no. That’s not why I came over here.”
“Oh, really?”
“Really. Vinyl’s music is cool and all, but I swear that has nothing to do with why I’m talking to you.”
She thought this over for a moment and covered her eyes. “Sorry, I get approached by a lot of weirdo fanponies. Can we just start over?”
“Sure. Hi, my name is Concerto.”
“I’m Octavia.”
“I know. You sat one row over from me in Music Theory 402.”
She lowered a hoof just enough to look at him. “Professor Ovation’s class?”
“Yep.”
“Now I remember you.”
“You do?”
She reached out a gave him a playful punch in the shoulder. “You’re the jerk who wrecked the grading curve. I barely passed because of you.”
He grinned. “Sorry about that. I’m bad at introductions, but when it comes to obscure music terminology I’m a master.”
“You’re not half bad on the violin, either.” Low light or no, she could tell he was blushing.
“So… Why are you sitting here all by yourself?”
She stared a hole in the ponies on stage. “Because I was too lazy to sign up to perform, now I’m just sitting here waiting for my friends to play so I can clap. Ugh, if only I could play something… I’m dying back here.”
“Would… uh… would you like to play a duet?”
“I wish. My instruments are all the way across campus.”
“We could go to a practice room down the hall, borrow some instruments, play something, and be back in time to hear your friends.”
She broke off her staring contest with the stage to look at him. She saw sincerity, as well as nervousness, in his eyes. “You’re serious?”
“If you don’t want to it’s fine, I just thought—”
“Yes. Yes, I’d like that. Let’s go.”
Soon they were hearing a very different kind of music. The practice rooms were little glass booths arranged in a giant grid in one big room. There was always music here, or at least something akin to it. The glass booths did a great job of muffling sound, but there was just no silencing the screech of a trumpet or flute in the hooves of a struggling undergrad.
As always, most of the booths were occupied. Thankfully one of the bigger ones, large enough for a couple of ponies to play comfortably in, was not. Octavia pointed to it and looked at Concerto.
“Want to grab that one?”
“Sure. I’ll set up some music stands. What do you want to play?”
“Something fun. Cello or double bass?”
“Huh?”
“I can play either one, it just depends on what kind of music you’d like to hear.”
His eyes darted from the booth to his violin case. “Can you sight read? I’ve got some sheet music on me. Classical, jazz… I’ve even got the number my group was playing at the graduation party.”
“Double bass it is. Oh, and this is your last chance to run.”
“Huh?”
She stared right at him. “Last chance to admit you’re just using me to get to Vinyl.”
He pulled the violin case off his back and held it out. “Here. If I turn out to be that much of a slime ball then you can keep it.”
Her eyes traveled from his earnest expression to the violin case. Compared to her own instruments it looked like a toy. Granted, a toy that could put a dent in her student loans, or his skull, if the situation arose. She looked at the ground and sighed. “No, no that’s okay. I’m the slime ball here. Are you sure you want to play a duet with the likes of me?”
“Absolutely. I’ll set up the booth while you get an instrument.”
She couldn’t help but smile. “I’ll be right there.”
The supply office in the corner was her next stop. The walls were lined with nearly every kind of music making device, all of them very overtly labeled “School Property.” As always, Mrs. Gauge was sitting behind the desk with a pair of spectacles and earplugs within easy reach. She was old enough to be a grandmother, and yet her perpetual smile was that of a filly. “Why good evening, Octavia. Here to take ol’ Ben for a spin?”
Octavia glanced at the double bass in the corner nodded. “One last time, yeah. I’m graduating tomorrow.”
“He’s cute.”
Her gaze darted back to Mrs. Gauge. “Hmm?”
“The stallion you came in with. Here to play a little hoofsie?”
She blushed deep red. “Certainly not. It’s just a friendly duet.”
Mrs. Gauge winked at her. “Good. Just remember those booths block sound, not sight.”
“I’d just like the double bass, please.”
“Go right ahead. Congratulations on graduating, dear, I’ll miss you.”
Concerto was setting up two music stands by the time she approached the booth with double bass in tow. She wanted to wait on the outside for a moment, if only so her blush could die down. That wasn’t going to happen, of course. Especially not while she could feel Mrs. Gauge’s eyes on her.
Then there was Concerto himself. Whether she cared to admit it or not, he was kind of cute. Having a beamed eighth note for a cutie mark gave her high hopes for his musical talent too. If she could just stop waiting for him to admit he was actually after Vinyl, just like all the other stallions who bothered to talk to her, then things would be perfect.
She pushed on the booth door and it swung open. He turned around and smiled at her. “Ready?”
She nodded. “So… what are we playing?”
The answer turned out to be everything. First came a slow classical piece, then a quick bit of jazz, and then the goofy number from the graduation party. All of it felt positively electric, like a constant shiver traveling up her back. It didn’t matter that the loaner double bass was beat up and slightly out of tune, it didn’t matter that they missed notes here and there, and it didn’t matter if somepony else could see them. This was better than playing at the party. This was better than graduating.
Once the last page of sheet music flew by, only silence followed. They each took turns looking at the music, the instruments, and finally at each other.
He spoke first. “That was fun.”
“Thanks for offering.”
“Thanks for accepting.”
Reluctantly, she looked through the glass to the clock on the outer wall. “I should probably get back, my friends will be on any minute now. Want to join me?”
“Yeah! But… before we go… would you like to…”
“Yes?”
Sweat was forming on his brow. “Would you like to go out some time? We could go out to dinner, or on a walk…”
“Or play some more music?”
He smiled. “Or play some more music.”
“I’d love to.”
The Best and Worst Night Ever
Octavia dropped her instrument case on the floor and kicked the door closed behind her. To her, the thunk of the case striking kitchen tile was louder than the door rattling on its hinges. Normally, she’d admonish herself for being so rough with her prized double bass, but not tonight.
A quick shove slid the case across the room and into the coat closet. It came to a stop next to the closet’s other resident instruments: a flute, two violins, and a cello. The cello was hers; the others belonged to her housemates. Her collar flew into the closet next. The pink tie landed silently on one of the piles of vinyl records that were, once again, overtaking the kitchen.
She dropped into one of the folding chairs at the kitchen table. Her charcoal mane fell over her eyes and blotted out the miserable night. If it wasn’t for the full moon she’d be invisible here: just a light grey shadow amidst the piles of records and dirty dishes.
The whole house shook softly to the beat of her roommate’s electric, bass-obsessed music. The bowl and spoon next to her, leftovers from her frantic dinner hours earlier, vibrated their way towards the table edge.
Her hooves crashed onto the table and she glared at the nearest wall, the one separating the kitchen from her and Vinyl Scratch’s bedroom. “Vinyl, turn it down!”
Something rustled in the living room and a groggy voice floated out. “Tavi? You’re finally home?”
“Concerto? Yeah, I’m home. What’re you doing here so late?”
“I, uh, well…”
She stood and walked down the hall. The living room was pitch black. “Doesn’t matter, I’m glad you’re here. I’ve had the worst possible night; the performance was a total disaster, and if I don’t tell somepony about it, I’m going to explode… why do you have the light off?”
“Wait, don’t turn—”
Flicking on the lights did little to help her mood. The living room, the biggest room in the house, was covered in decorations. Balloons, streamers, and party hats were everywhere. Every decoration was adorned with a violet treble clef to match her cutie mark. A huge banner hanging from the rafters spelled out everything wrong with her night. It read “Congratulations on the Gala, Octavia!” in huge multicolored letters.
Concerto was standing in front of the couch he’d been sleeping on, nervously rubbing his front hooves together. A party hat was perched on his head and his coat was dotted with confetti. He forced a smile and asked the obligatory question.
“So, uh, how was the Grand Galloping Gala?”
She slowly crossed the room, stepping through the remains of her surprise party, and collapsed on the couch face down.
“This was the worse night ever.”
“Was it really that bad? I mean I’ve heard some stories from ponies who left early, but—”
“It was awful. Vinyl’s raves are higher class.”
He sat down on the ground put a comforting hoof on her shoulder. “What happened?”
“It started out fine; I met with Fredrick Horseshoepin and all his other hoof-picked bandmates. Crazy as it sounds I wasn’t even nervous. So what if they’re all big shots in the Canterlot Orchestra and I’m the lowly fifth-seat cellist? Fredrick picked me for Gala so that means I had a chance to impress. Then… ugh.”
“Did… Did all the garden animals really stampede through the ballroom?”
“Eventually. Midway through the third number this horrible pink pony dressed like a candy store jumps up on stage. I don’t even know how it happened but she got us all playing the Pony Pokey, like we were at a foal’s birthday party instead of the most exclusive fancy dress ball of the year.”
He tried to hold back a laugh. “You seriously played the Pony Pokey? In front of royalty?”
She nodded. “I kept thinking I should stop, but the others were already playing along and… oh Con, I’ve never been so embarrassed.”
“I’m so sorry, Tavi.”
“It got worse. Somepony wheeled in a giant cake, the pink one jumped into it, half a zoo’s worth of animals crashed through the room… I don’t know if I’ll ever get all the frosting and feathers out of my bass. At least the elephants didn’t step on it.”
“I can help you with that if—”
“I’m never going to get a gig in this town again. Fredrick probably won’t even let me stay in the orchestra. I’ll be the only pony in this house without a music career, I’ll have to move back to Manehattan and live with my parents, I’ll…”
Once again bass thundered through the house. Vinyl’s alternative sleep schedule usually didn’t matter, not when Octavia made it to bed on time with a good pair of earplugs. Buying Vinyl a set of fancy headphones last Hearths Warming Eve didn’t hurt either.
She rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling. “I’m going to impale that stereo on her horn, Con. Why is she blasting music so late? Why isn’t anypony else yelling at her to stop?”
“They’re probably all too tired. We were up pretty late waiting for you. You said you’d be home by eleven.”
She sighed and a tear rolled down her cheek. “Thanks for the party… and for waiting for me.”
“I’m your special somepony, of course I waited.”
They sat in silence for a minute. She stared into space while he massaged her hoof and bass beats rattled her spine.
“I should go to bed and let you get home, I just want today to be over.”
He stood. “What if it doesn’t have to be the worst night ever?”
“I don’t see how.”
“Just stay right there, I’ll be back in a second.” He walked into the hall. Soon she could hear him rummaging in the coat closet.
She pushed herself up to a sitting position. “Fine, I’ll wait.”
She rubbed her eyes and took a moment to properly survey the party decorations. Vinyl or one of the other unicorns must’ve hung the banner on the ceiling. Con would’ve broken his neck trying to climb that high. The party was all his doing though, she was sure of it. Aside from the usual party fare he’d set out some of her favorite pictures.
Her graduation picture from the Canterlot Academy of Music was over by the door. She’d been so proud that day, and so sure that fame and fortune was just around the corner. Instead she was sharing a house with three other mares and living in the shadow of student loans.
The heart-shaped photo from their first Hearts and Hooves day was by the window. They’d started dating just after graduation and marked every major holiday with a new picture. After three years she’d run out of room, not to mention picture frames, to display them all.
Her most favorite picture of all was the one sitting closest to her on the coffee table, barely out of hoof’s reach. Con was in it, of course, but they weren’t even looking at each other. She was playing her double bass, eyes closed, and he was doing the same with his violin next to her. It was part of a larger picture of the old school buddies they’d been jamming with. She couldn’t recall all of their names, or even the music they’d played that day. All she remembered were the sweet sounds of bass and violin.
She looked up and realized he was in the doorway, watching her. “How long have you been standing there?”
“You were smiling, I didn’t want to interrupt.”
She patted the spot next to her on the couch. “So what’s your big plan to save the night?”
He approached her, but didn’t sit down. “I planned on making tonight so special, Tavi. I knew you’d kill it at the Gala, then me and your housemates would throw you a huge party, and then…”
“And then?”
He knelt down and held up a small velvet box. “I’d kneel down and ask you something.”
As he opened the box her jaw hit the floor. Gold and diamond never looked so good together.
“Is… is that…”
“Will you, Octavia Melody—”
“How’d you afford that thing? Did you rob a bank?”
“I’ve been saving for a year and half. So will you, Octavia—”
The bass beats shaking the house came to an abrupt stop and Vinyl Scratch thew open the bedroom door. She was wearing her headphones and, as always, her magenta sunglasses. “Whoa, sorry dude, I didn’t realize the amp was still on. If you hadn’t turned on the light out here I never would’ve…”
She trailed off as she took the scene in. She dipped her glasses and stared over the rims. “Tav, is he—”
Concerto jumped up. “Octavia, will you marry me?”
Octavia’s eyes darted from one pony to the other. Finally she settled on her roommate. “Find a camera, Vinyl, and turn up the music.”
Vinyl threw up her hooves and shouted. “Yeah! Tav’s getting married! Wake up everypony, wake up!”
She dashed back into the bedroom and, based on the explosion of sound that followed, spun the volume dial to eleven.
Octavia turned back to Concerto. She couldn’t speak, even without the deafening music. Instead she embraced him nodded into his shoulder.
Of course I will, Con, of course I will.
This was the best night ever.
