It was six in the morning, and Octavia lay alone on the queen-sized bed.
She could barely keep her eyes open. Her energy was not drained by waking up so early; on the contrary, she normally woke up a full hour earlier. The face of her mother flashed before her.
“And just what draws you to this, this… louse-infested nightcrawler?”
Octavia didn’t know anymore. The sex was amazing, sure, but when did they ever see each other?
She looked over at the other side, where Vinyl had been when she fell asleep. When she had been there, the bed had felt warm. Inviting, even. Sure, it sometimes felt a bit crowded if they didn’t snuggle, but Vinyl’s hooves wrapped around her just seemed to fit.
Now the bed was cold and barren. She laid in the very middle, drowning in the ocean of loneliness.
Why do I do this? Octavia asked herself. Do I really want to wake up to this?
She didn’t know.
Her stomach growled. She slowly slid off the bed and onto the bare hardwood below. Scratching noises followed her as she shuffled into the kitchen.
Even in her current state, Octavia found the oatmeal on the second shelf of the pantry without even looking. She filled a kettle with water and began boiling it.
It was still only ten past six. Vinyl had likely crashed in some hotel room, not to return until noon or so. She could pack up in less than half that time and be gone long before Vinyl got home.
“You always were one to run from a fight, Octavia,” her mother’s voice chimed. “But I’ll be waiting when you leave her—assuming she doesn’t beat you to the punch.”
No. She couldn’t do that. For all her flaws, Vinyl would never be somepony to just leave like that. It’d hardly be fair to do that to her.
The shriek of the kettle broke her from her reverie. Octavia walked over, filled a bowl with oatmeal, and poured in the boiling water. She stirred it with a spoon, then left it to cool.
She filled a french press with a few scoops of coffee, pouring in the rest of the water. There was no tea in their apartment these days—Vinyl couldn’t stand the stuff. It hadn’t been important enough for Octavia to challenge her on. There was never any milk, and Vinyl tended to use up all the sugar.
Having prepared her coffee, Octavia poured it into a mug. She grimaced as she took a gulp of the black coffee. Vinyl had assured her she’d get used to it, or maybe learn to love it, even. She poured the rest down the drain. No such change in her taste buds had occurred.
Feeling slightly awake, Octavia ate her oatmeal and trotted over to her cello. She played for no one now—Vinyl couldn’t listen without wanting to remix it again—but it still brought some sense of comfort to her. It reminded her of home, it reminded her of—
“This is what you were born to do, Octavia!” Her mother clapped her hooves loudly. "With talent like yours, you’ll make it into the Royal Canterlot Symphony for sure!”
She bit her lip. Her bow hovered at her side, attached to a shaking hoof. She’d had an audition once for the symphony. Every note had been hit, and the judges nodded occasionally, slight smiles creasing the corners of their mouths.
“Well, Miss Octavia, I must say, I’m rather impressed. Rarely have I heard such talent from one as young as yourself,” the stallion in charge said. His cohorts nodded.
“Did she make it?” Vinyl said, running onstage.
The stallion frowned. “We will… let you know,” he said, eyes never leaving Vinyl. He held up her audition forms. “This is the correct address, yes?” She nodded.
“Very good. Dismissed,” he said.
Octavia walked with her marefriend toward the wing. As soon as they were offstage, Vinyl began speaking at a mile a minute. “Hell yeah, Tavi! They friggin’ loved you! Did you hear what they said? I bet you’re a shoo-in! Hay, if they don’t take you…”
Octavia tuned her out. Behind them, she heard the judges talking.
“She’s remarkable! I’ve rarely seen that level of skill from somepony with years more experience!” a mare said. “We’re accepting her, aren’t we?”
“Hm,” the stallion said. “No doubt she is talented, but that friend of hers gives me pause. I’ve seen that type.” He paused. “Her kind ruins the careers of real musicians.”
“I agree wholeheartedly,” another mare said.
“It’s just such a waste of talent,” a stallion said.
It had been no surprise when the rejection letter came in.
She put down her bow. Perhaps playing the cello was a poor idea to boost her mood. Yet she stood there, not moving toward the violin or the bass or even the piano.
Had Vinyl cost her her dream? How many other things had Vinyl cost her?
“Mother, I’m not leaving her.”
“Then I don’t want to see you again, you ungrateful tramp!”
Well, there was that. But who was to say that schism wouldn’t have formed anyway?
Octavia sighed and lay down on the floor. She looked around the apartment. A gramophone sat in the corner. Dozens of vinyls sat on a shelf nearby. A few others sat on top—her Clopin and Neighthoven.
But those aren’t all of my records, Octavia reasoned with herself. She made room for some of mine. She blinked. A few. After hers had all been put away.
She looked at the walls, where posters of DJs whose names were an amalgamation of letters and numbers sat. Only one was hers—a simple poster of a piano, beside which were the words, “Music is the language of the soul.” Vinyl liked that one.
Looking around, she now saw that most of the decor was selected by Vinyl. Only the bedroom was hers, with the treble clef blankets and the grey sheets and the bare walls.
Was that all she was to Vinyl? A body to keep the bed warm for when she got home? Another stop on the Party Train Express?
No. No more. Octavia was now decided. It was over. She would march right up to Vinyl and tell her—
The door opened, revealing Vinyl standing behind it.
“Vinyl!” Octavia squeaked. “You’re home early…”
Vinyl smirked. “Well, I couldn’t stay away from you, babe.” She kissed Octavia full on the lips. Her lips were firm and moist. She wanted to linger like this, to stay in Vinyl’s embrace forever and—
No, Octavia. Focus. She’s no good for you.
Octavia pulled away. “Vinyl, we need to talk,” she said in what she hoped was a stern tone. Vinyl cocked her head.
“Yeah, what about?”
Well, what do I say now? "Sorry, Vinyl, but I think we’re only together because you screw me on a nightly basis and I need to leave?"
“Why—why do you like me?” she managed.
Vinyl chuckled. “Well, you’re a very pretty mare with the hottest flanks in Equestria.”
Octavia blushed, and she found herself leaning closer to Vinyl before coming back to her senses. “But is that the only reason?”
Vinyl’s head tilted back. Her hoof tapped her chin, but her smirk never vanished. “You’re also the most adorkable mare I’ve ever met, you’re incredibly talented at classical music, even if it isn’t my thing, and I love the way you squeak when I do this.” She poked Octavia in the side, causing her to squeal. Vinyl laughed.
Her grin shrank back down to the familiar smirk. “So, feel better now, babe?”
Octavia paused. Vinyl’s words were reassuring, but she still felt they were a little... off. Rehearsed, even. It wasn’t that Vinyl didn’t know her. On the contrary, Vinyl possibly knew her too well.
She felt a hoof run down her side, sending shivers down her spine. Octavia looked up, into Vinyl’s smirk.
“Come on, babe, lighten up.” Vinyl’s hoof dragged over her cutie mark.
Octavia’s mind went hazy. Vinyl knew how to work her. There was no way to resist.
In the end, there was no choice. Octavia leaned in, her lips meeting Vinyl’s, her tongue wrestling against Vinyl’s waiting tongue...
…
It was six in the morning, and Octavia lay alone on the queen-sized bed.
Author's Note
So. I'm really not sure what I was thinking when I wrote this. What was originally supposed to be like this turned into something more like this. I still think it turned out rather well, but I was very surprised at the sort of tone it took as I wrote it. Hopefully you all enjoyed it, though. I'd love to hear your thoughts on this in the comments below!
Thanks for reading, everyone!
The Best You Can Do (10 Year Rewrite)
Octavia lay alone in the queen-sized bed. She scrunched her eyes as tightly as they would shut, clutched the blankets to her chest. The wool was scratchy and dull, but it still clung to the faintest warmth. It still smelled like her.
The middle of the bed had been an oasis, a shelter from the storm for them to cling to each other, safe and warm. Now, alone, the bed was an ocean, and she found herself drowning in the waves of blankets, pillows, and plushes. Funny how perspective worked.
Sighing, she checked the clock. Six in the morning. She had slept in, by her standards, anyway. Maybe Vinyl was rubbing off on her.
She peeled away the blankets layer by layer, sliding to the ragged carpet. If she trod too heavily, she could feel the rough plasticy material that held the remaining stubborn strands together. She stopped to study the room. Eh, whatever neon blue this was probably was already out of style even when it was new. It really was long overdue for a replacement. Maybe a salt-and-pepper look, for contrast, or a simple grey, or maybe chocolate brown, if she wanted something between sensible and fun. Vinyl would probably pick some funky electric orange or eye-searingly bright purple-pink. Octavia chuckled a little at the thought. She could at least make sure the walls were somewhat normal. Maybe a sky blue, to freshen it up a bit.
"Is this really the best you can do?"
No one spoke, but Octavia winced, remembering her mother's question.
"She's trying," she said to the empty room. It said nothing back.
Her stomach, however, growled its displeasure, and she slunk to the kitchen, ears folded. Her hoovesteps echoed off the lineoleum, and she found herself taking somewhat heavier steps to fill the silence. When she opened the cabinet, she stretched out with one hoof, propping the cabinet door with the other. She grabbed the oatmeal and shut the door, resting it on a nail jutting out. I have time. I really should fix that. Instead, she put on a kettle, staring at the mess Vinyl had left behind. Some kind of sickly-sweet concoction claiming to be cereal, so strong she could smell it from here, mixed with milk starting to spoil in the early sunlight. As she rinsed it out, she shook her head, a small smile sneaking into the corner of her mouth. Her dedication to maintaining just the worst diet possible was a marvel. An inspiration, even.
The kettle shrieked, pausing Octavia's perverse admiration for now. She poured it into her oats, before using the rest for her tea, taking a deep whiff of it. It was nothing compared to imported jasmine, but it was a fine breakfast blend. Much, much cheaper, too. Vinyl had even left her enough milk, and back in the fridge this time. Progress.
She took a sip before sitting, quietly eating her humble meal. Some strawberries would do it a world of good, or some apples, perhaps. The orange mare with the cowboy hat seemed like she might offer a fair deal. At any rate, cinnamon and a spoonful of sugar were enough seasoning for now.
Octavia checked the clock. Still only 6:20. Sure, she had the whole day (she was free for once!), but Vinyl wouldn't be back for hours. 10 o'clock, if she was lucky. Maybe past noon, if she had crashed in a hotel again. Hopefully alone...
"Where is she?" Perfect Harmony tapped her hoof on the table.
"Well, she had a concert last night, so she might--"
Harmony scoffed. "Due to meet the mother of the mare she intends to date, and she spends the night at some wild rave?!"
Octavia sank in her chair. "Well, it is her job, Mother..."
"Then she should be more professional! Even the clubs close after, what, three in the morning? Brunch at ten thirty hardly seems like an imposition."
She just shrugged. Maybe Vinyl headed straight home, but she could come back with any number of excuses. 'Oh, there was an afterparty!' 'Sorry, the bartender was wild and the drinks were stronger than I realized!' 'I came home to catch a few z's, and I woke up six hours later!'
Octavia looked up at her mother, and saw her squinting her eyes. "Is that her?"
Octavia looked too. Sure enough, she saw that distinctive jolt of blue from the rat's nest Vinyl called a mane. She stood outside, trying to run a hoof through it, but a cowlick stubbornly stood up directly perpendicular to her head, as if defying her very audacity at attempting to tame it. Octavia giggled, though it died in her throat when she met her mother's glare.
Vinyl slumped, making one last attempt before taking a deep breath and throwing open the door. She perked her head, looking around, her eyes brightening when she saw Octavia. Shockingly, she seemed to be without her normal sunglasses, making her red-tinged irises all the more apparent. "Hello! I'm Vinyl! You must be her mom! Harmony, right?"
Perfect Harmony just stared for a moment, not shaking Vinyl's outstretched hoof. She touched it for the briefest of moments before raising her chin. "That's Perfect Harmony to you."
Vinyl raised an eyebrow, but otherwise looked unbothered as she hopped into a chair and scooted close to Octavia. "Sorry I'm late. The party ran way into the morning, and I ended up sharing a hotel room with some friends just to have someplace--"
Her explanation was interrupted by Harmony choking on her water. She tapped her chest, her eyes bulging. "You--you shared a BED with somepony before you--"
Vinyl blinked. "Wait... Not like... They're just friends!" She turned to Octavia, but Octavia's eyes were welling up with tears. "Tavi... It's not like that!"
Octavia shook her head until the memory faded. Nothing would happen anyway.
Something clinked like a plate next to railroad tracks, and Octavia looked down to see her hoof shaking, spilling some of her tea onto the saucer. She set it down. Perhaps she needed a decaf blend instead...
She needed something to calm her nerves. Octavia stood, walking into the living room and turning on the record player. Soft, wavering strings rang out before brass instruments joined in. Classic. She smiled, dancing with an invisible partner.
The music was gentle and slow, perfect for holding somepony close and swaying together. She laughed. Even she had no idea what sort of dance one was supposed to do for this kind of jazz, but just sharing that kind of moment was enough. She imagined sharp red eyes, fully focused on her. She leaned in and closed her eyes...
The cello kicked in, adding a deeper, richer sound to the strings. Octavia listened, sort of feeling the flow of the notes. Her eyes drifted over to the cello in the corner, covered in a thin layer of dust, but still able to be played.
No. She couldn't. Well, she could, but... Octavia could still feel the strings on her hoof, the way the other one fit around a bow... But not this one. She just needed to save up for another one so she could turn this one into firewood.
"What are you talking about?! This thing is freakin' gorgeous!" Vinyl's eyes had lit up the way hers were probably meant to. "I don't know anything about violins, but this had to be, like, a thousand bits!"
Octavia chuckled, closing her eyes. "It's a cello, you dork," she said with a smile.
She would want her to. Octavia wanted to. But she would want her to most of all.
"Are you sure you want this?" Harmony looked at her, not judgmental for once, just... sad.
Octavia swallowed the lump in her throat. "I'm sure."
Harmony sighed, turning to the building behind them. Names were etched in the archway around the music hall entrance, all the graduates who had made it through years of honing their craft here. Some of them got their names on other parts of the building itself.
"You know, you hated classical music when you were little. I was so upset!" Harmony forced a smile even as her eyes started to tear up. "But then I took you to a concert here, and from that day on, the only thing you wanted in the world was to--"
"Make pretty music with those amazing ponies," Octavia finished with her. She flashed her mom a wistful smile.
"I just want what's best for you." Harmony put a hoof on Octavia's cheek. She held her more softly than she had in years.
"I know." Octavia put her hoof on Harmony's... and brushed it away. "But what you want isn't always what's best for me."
Harmony grit her teeth. "You think you're really going to be happy leaving your future for her?
A tear ran down Octavia's cheek. She ran a hoof slowly over the smooth wood, clearing away the dust.
"This music is pretty and all. But I'd like to hear you play."
Octavia whipped her head around, eyes wide. Vinyl just grinned from the doorway, slowly strutting up to her.
"Hey."
Octavia blushed, turning fully toward her girlfriend. "Hey."
Wrapping her arms around Octavia, Vinyl perked one ear. "This is the song from the first time we danced, right?"
Shrugging coyly, Octavia just smiled. "I like to reminisce sometimes."
"Then shall we?" Vinyl said in an exaggerated posh accent.
"You're a dork," Octavia teased as she stood on her hind legs.
"Yeah." They swayed together, and Vinyl's breath tickled her ear. "But you love it."
"I do."
They held each other for a moment, moving with the rhythm, before Vinyl tilted her head. "Didn't you say this song reminded you of the feeling of being kissed?"
"It might have." Octavia looked into Vinyl's eyes. "It's been a while."
Smirking a little, Vinyl put a hoof under her chin. "Should I remind you?"
"Yes." Her whisper was gentle, and so was the kiss. Vinyl held her cheek.
"It definitely reminds me of being kissed." She put her hoof on Vinyl's.
"Why don't you show me how it makes you feel?" Vinyl asked. Octavia started to lean in, but Vinyl put her hoof on Octavia's lips. "Not like that. For now." She tilted her head toward the cello. "C'mon. It's too nice to just be left to rot."
Octavia hesitated, pulling away and looking at the cello. Though it was a few steps away, every step felt like miles, stretching impossibly long. Would her hoof even feel the ground again? But she closed the gap, whether it took hours or seconds. As she reached for the bow and the strings, her hooves held the weight of universes. The bow might as well have been made of helium.
Despite her hooves shaking, they found their spots on the strings, and she managed to draw her bow straight across all of them. She took a breath, closing her eyes, feeling the way she needed to play. A song poured out of her, none of the notes planned, all of them coming naturally. It wasn't an original song, of course, but the muscle memory returned just as naturally as swimming. When she was done, she put down her bow and looked up.
Vinyl's eyes were locked on her. They seemed to sparkle like rubies. "Beautiful," she whispered. "And I don't just mean you."
"Alright, I've got another one for you. Let me look..." Vinyl dug through their records, finding another jazz album. They danced and swayed and kissed and whispered till they were just holding each other in the twilight.
Octavia didn't know if this was the best she could do. But it was damn good.
