The Four Seasons for Quintet

Chapters

Spring, 2nd Movement.
Spring, 3rd Movement.
Summer, 1st Movement.
Summer, 2nd Movement.
Summer, 3rd Movement.
Autumn, 1st Movement.
Autumn, 2nd Movement.
Autumn, 3rd Movement.
Winter, 1st Movement.
Winter, 2nd Movement.
Winter, 3rd Movement.
Spring: 1st Movement.

Spring, 2nd Movement.

Harmonic was sitting in his favorite chair in the living room when his cell phone rang. Reaching in his pocket with one hand and turning down the stereo by the other, he checked to see who it was calling him after his lonely dinner. It was Script, so he put it on speaker.

“Hey.”

“Hi dad,” his son’s voice spoke, “How’re you doing?”

“Just finished dinner,” he said simply. “Did you need something?”

“No, I just was calling to see how you are.”

“Oh,” the Violinist sighed, “I just had a bit of a long day.”

“How come?”

“For starters, Celestia wanted me to join the Arts Committee, but I had to turn it down because there was someone on it that I didn’t feel too comfortable joining. Do you know about Julius Disc?”

“Kinda, is he an art teacher or something?”

“He is, and he’s one of the few teachers who know how to do all these really random magic tricks. I’m afraid that if I did join, I would likely find pulling pranks on everyone in a way that even someone like Tim Burton would be jealous of.”

“Okay…? So, how’s teaching?”

“I was getting to that,” Harmonic stood up, “In some of the classes, I keep running into the problem that a few of these kids just simply have no motivation in practicing either the pieces that they all agreed on doing. I’m not sure if they’ll be ready for the concert before the beginning of Summer Break.”

“That bad huh?” at this point, the Musician picked up his phone and started pacing around the room with it.

“That’s not even half of it. I’d noticed that ever since I’ve started doing this again, especially from first hour, I’ve always found a bag of homemade candy on my desk at the end of the class. The thing is, that bag has a little note that says ‘Our Condolences,’ and it’s never signed by anybody. I think that someone had figured out about what happened in January and now they’re sending their sympathies. But the truth is, I don’t need that.”

“Why not?”

Harmonic stopped pacing, “Why not? Script, we’ve gone over this before. I’m fine. There’s no need for anyone to feel sorry for me.”

“Dad,” his son deadpanned, “you’re not fine, and both Page and I know it.”

“Script, don’t! I don’t talk about this again; I don’t even want to get into an argument with you. Just take my word for it.”

“It’s because that I’m worried, I can’t help it.”

The Violinist paused, taking a deep breath, he resumed, “Can we talk about something else?”

“Fine. Is there at least anything positive coming out of this teaching position?”

“Come to think of it, there is. My first hour class is improving on their pieces. Each section is getting the idea of their parts down, and we’re about to put all of what they’ve been practicing together.”

“Well that’s good. What are they doing?”

“A bit from Tchaikovsky, and the other from Queen.”

“Queen? Like Bohemian Rhapsody or something?”

“That’s the one.”

“Oh cool.”

At this point, Harmonic reached for the remote to turn off the soft playing music. “Quite. So what about you? How are you and Page getting along?”

“Oh! I nearly forgot to tell you didn’t I?”

“Tell me what?”

“Dad, I’m going to do it. I’m planning to ask her to be my wife! I just got her the ring today.”

“Oh,” Harmonic said stoically, “That’s great.”

“Really?” Script deadpanned, “That’s all you got to say?”

“Well, yes. I think it’s good that you’re doing this. It’s about time that you purpose to her.”

There was an audible sigh from the other end of his phone, “Gee thanks dad. Anyway, I’m planning to do it by Friday, I was hoping that I can invite you over for the big announcement.”

“Sure, I’ll come. Where is it at?”

“At the Tai Kitchen downtown at six.”

“Okay, I’ll keep that in mind. Is there anything you want to talk about?”

“I don’t think so, just have a good night dad.”

“You too son, bye.” Once their conversation had ended and Harmonic hang up the phone, he started to head upstairs. In his room, he kept two of his most important possessions, his violin, and the painting that has been covered up by a black fabric. Uncovering it, he sat on the bed and just stared at it.

This painting was the family, even though it was never finished. Three smiling figures stood in before a blue background and stood on a crimson floor. The one that depicted his son in the middle was nothing more than a sketch. Harmonic was the only one that was fully painted that had one hand on Script’s shoulder and the other on his beloved. But it was the third figure that Harmonic himself stared at. For one, his husband’s depiction was halfway painted, and he stared back from his sea blue eyes.

Harmonic sighed, “Evening Color, how you’ve been today?” he received no answer but he kept talking. “Script has called a minute ago, checking up on me… Yeah, I told him the usual. I know he’s trying to make me feel anything but loneliness, but he’s just doing a bad job at it.”

The Violinist chuckled to himself sadly. “Anyway, I wonder what you’re doing now. Since I haven’t seen, well, you for a while that I can’t help but daydream what you’ve been doing lately. Are you still painting? I kinda fancied that even in death, you wouldn’t stop creating something. Sometimes when I walk out in the backyard on a clear night, I can picture you hopping everywhere in the sky, trying to paint each and every stair and cloud for me… Yeah, I know it’s a stupid idea but… could you blame me for thinking it?"

Harmonic paused, “Color… I’m beginning to wonder if our son is right. That I’m just pretending to be alright. After what happened, I just really don’t want to talk with anyone right now… or ever. So you can guess that I haven’t made any effort in finding anyone special. I know I promised, but… I just can’t find the motivation to do so.” He slouched on the bed, laying sideways but still looking at the painting.

“It seem like years now since you were still here, in this room… I don’t know how much you realize that I’m missing you. I would give anything to hear your voice,” Harmonic’s eyes started to water. “Even if it was for just a minute, I would surrender everything to tell you that even now… I still love you.”

He couldn’t handle it anymore, covering his face, he sobbed, “Color, come back… C-Come back.”

_*_

“…. And then Coach Spitfire said, ‘Tell me that when you have a dog that acts like a bigger kid then you are.”

“Soarin!” Fleetfoot covered her mouth, trying to suppress her shock giggles, “That’s horrible!”

“What? That’s exactly what she said to Thunderlane,” the azure athlete said as he turned his head down the crowded hallway to where he spotted Braeburn with an armful of books, paper and a pair of pencils in one hand. He was about to call him when the cowboy saw him before he suddenly turned away, disappearing into the crowd. “What’s got into him?” he said to himself.

“Did you two have a fight or something?” Fleetfoot asked.

“Not really, he’s been acting weird lately.”

“How so?”

“Well, like last week right after first period, I went up to where he was sitting to say ‘Hi,’ but he didn’t talk much before he left. Or when I tried texting him, he would suddenly stop in the middle of a conversation and would give some excuse like, ‘I need to run an errand’ or ‘Mah Pa needs me to do this.’ It’s been going on for about a month now, and I don’t know why.”

“Why not you just go talk to him, the class won’t start for the next few minutes?”

“Good idea. Still planning to go out on Saturday?”

“Yeah, I like to,” she smiled, “See ya later.”

After saying his goodbye to Fleetfoot, Soarin dodged and weaved through the sea of students that were trying to have a last minute chat or getting to their classes. He kept his eyes out as he stepped over fallen books and around clusters of people to find if he could locate his friend.

However, he ran into one of these students that nearly caused the blue and pink haired girl to fall over, “Oh sorry!”

“Whoa, careful there, you in a hurry or something?” she asked. Soarin looked around to find that he lost track of where Braeburn had gone to.

“I was looking for someone.”

“Hey, you look familiar,” she pointed towards him. “Aren’t you on the Wondercolts team?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, “So quick question, do you happen to know where my friend went?”

“What they look like?”

“Yellow, orange hair, cowboy vest, you couldn’t miss him.”

“Eh… sorry, I don’t think I have.”

“Great,” Soarin sighed in frustration, “Thanks anyway.”

“Wait a sec, I think I’ve seen you elsewhere before. Aren’t you in Harmonic Trotivari’s class? First hour?”

The blue Wondercolt raised an eyebrow, “Yeah?”

“Oh, no wonder why you looked familiar! Nice work on those drums. Oh, and by-the-way, name’s Sweetie Drops, but you can call me Bon Bon.”

“Uh… hey,” he shook her outstretched hand. “I guess I really should start heading to class now.”

“Okay, where is it?”

“It’s a history class, you know Mr. Time Turner?”

“Never had him, but I’ve heard he’s pretty weird.”

“He’s in room 217.”

“Hey! My class is right across that, how about we go upstairs and talk a bit.”

“Really the sociable type, aren’t ya?”

Soon enough, the two students started to make their way to the stairs to the second floor.

“So,” Soarin asked to start up a conversation, “Do you work anywhere?”

“Yeah, do you know that sweets shop on Main Hatters Street?” he told her that he did, “I’m an assistant there, and I’m learning how to make all the candies there.”

“Oh cool. That must be a really sweet job over there. Uh, no pun intended.”

She laughed, “Being a confectionist has its perks. At the end of the day, when all the stuff has been made, and what hasn’t been sold, I usually take the left overs to my girlfriend and-”

“Girlfriend?” Soarin interrupted.

“Yeah, you know Lyra? Lyra Heartstrings?” he shook his head, “We’ve been together for a while.”

“Really?” the athlete asked as they started to climb the stairs. “So… if you don’t mind of me asking, when you say that you’re together, do you mean that as friends or…”

“Oh!” she laughed, “In a way, I’ve been dating my best friend for at least a year now.”

“Huh.”

“You don’t have a problem with that, do ya?”

“What?” Soarin blinked, “Oh no! Not really, I actually know a guy here who swings that way. But to be honest, you are really the first lesbian that I’ve ever met.”

“The pleasure’s all mine,” she joked as she shook his hand once more before they continued towards their classes. “Out of curiosity, who is that friend of yours?”

“I’m not really aloud to say, he promised me that I wouldn’t tell anybody else about it.”

“Oh, I see… he must have really put a lot of trust in ya, huh.”

“I don’t know about that now. He’s been avoiding me for some reason, and I don’t know why.”

“Did you say something bad to him?”

Soarin shrugged, “That’s why I was looking for him, I want to know what’s up with him, but he just keeps avoiding me for some reason.”

Bon Bon hummed, putting a finger by her cheek in thought. “Maybe he’s goin’ through tough times like Mr. H is.”

“Mr. H?”

“Well, Lyra did a search on him on the web and found that his spouse died recently.”

“Oh…” Soarin trailed off.

“Yeah, when we found out, we figured that we had to find a way to cheer him up, but we decided by doing something small first.”

“So wait, you’re the ones that keep leaving bags of candy on his desk after class?”

She nodded, “We knew that talking to him won’t help because those that had lost a loved one won’t take anything you say seriously, no matter what you tell them. However, just leaving little things like that around makes the difference between a bad day and an okay day.”

By now, they’re now at the doors of their classrooms, before Soarin could enter, he heard, “Nice meeting ya.”

“Yeah, see ya,” and with that, they went to their classes before the bell rung.

_*_

Braeburn was not fine. Not because he was standing in an annoyingly long line at the grocery store, nor is it because his parents asked him to run his errand when he still has work to do. While irritating, it wasn’t what it was on his mind. Instead, he was meditating on a problem that had the name of Soarin.

‘Ah know this ain’t any way ta treat ‘em.’ He thought as he took a few steps forward. ‘But really, there’s no reason to be jealous right? He was the one who asked her out. Ah should be happy fer him that he’d found someone nice… again. Yet, Ah’m not. If anythin’, it’s almost like some stab in the back without ‘em knowin’ it.’

While he was thinking this, he didn’t notice that an orange fell out of his cart. However, that piece of fruit started to glow very light green and started to lift itself up until it was at the cowboy’s eye-level.

“What the-” He looked around to see who was doing this, finding a mint green girl behind him.

“You dropped this,” she said, Braeburn glanced at her cart, to find that she was carrying around more stuff he was.

“Thanks,” he held out his hand underneath the fruit until the aura around the orange to fall.

Catching it and putting in his cart, he heard from behind him, “Do I know you?”

“Huh?”

“You look familiar… I think you play a string instrument in Mr. H, do you?”

The yellow student raised an eyebrow, “Yeah…? Why?”

“Oh nothing really, it’s just that you looked familiar and I wanted to make sure.”

Braeburn shrugged, looking in her cart again, “Y’all got enough stuff fer a shindig on New Year’s in that cart of yers.”

“Oh, this isn’t really for me.”

“Let me guess,” he said as the line moved a bit forward, “You’re here because somebody sends ya on an errand?”

“More or less, it’s mostly for Mr. H actually?”

He turned around, “The Orchestra Teacher?” she nodded, “What for? You got the stuff for a few fruits and chocolate baskets there.”

“It’s a way of showing a bit of sympathy to him. You see, me and Sweetie Drops had found out that he had a spouse that recently passed away.”

“Really now?”

She nodded, “Yeah, Bonnie remembered what she was like when she had someone close to her had died. So, we came up with putting treats on his desk after class when he wasn’t looking.”

“Wait, so that was you? Huh, Ah was kinda wonderin’ myself who was doin’ that. But how come you don’t jus’ go up to him and talk to him? Eh… Ah’m sorry, Ah don’t think Ah got yer name, have Ah?”

“Call me Lyra. And no, we didn’t. Trust me, when it comes to people who are grieving, it’s best to show that you care by doing baby steps. Once he does get to the point where he will open up about it, then we can talk to him.”

“Huh… guess that make some sense.”

“You know what I just realized,” she said as they stepped closer to the checkout. "I don't think I've got your name, who are you again?”

“Braeburn.”

“Good ta meet ya,” she nodded.

“You too, and out of curiosity, how long are you and yer friend plain’ to give the guy gifts befor’ he talks?”

“Whenever he confronts us and tells us a bit of his husband.”

This made the cowboy snap his full attention to her, “Sorry?”

“What?”

“Maybe Ah didn’t hear right, husband?” she nodded, “But Mr. H is a fella.”

She gave a confusing look before realizing, “Oh! I didn’t mention that he’s gay have I?”

Braeburn blinked, “He… he is?”

“Uh-huh. But like I said, his spouse passed away in January, from what news we could find, the guy has been really depressed since then. So, in a way, Bon Bon and I are making an effort to show him a little bit of kindness, even when he doesn’t think he needs it.”

The cowboy didn’t say anything as it was his turn to unload his groceries and started paying them. This revelation that the girl name Lyra has given him was surprising, but it was this kind of news that he thought has fallen to his favor. Up until then, he was solely convinced that he was the only young man in town that was attracted to other guys so that he had no one to turn to whenever the issue has come up one way or another.

As he said his good byes to his fellow student and made his way to his car, there was a sense of relief that Braeburn felt, the fact that now, not only he wasn’t alone, but he has someone who he can talk with about how to solve his problem with Soarin.

_*_

“Everyone, rest,” Harmonic said as each sound died out before the students focus their full attention on their teacher. “Okay… I will have to say that you’re all doing better than yesterday, which is good. However, there are still a few things in my ears that are still off. Soarin, you were off beat and were a bit too loud; we need you to be on the beat with everyone else… Clarinet section, I keep hearing that on bar twenty-three that one of you is flat on the G. And Lyra, again, you are improving, but just watch out on the lower notes below middle A.”

The school bell rang, “Other than that,” the Music Teacher finished, “Class dismissed, but remember to practice on both of the pieces.” Students around the room went to their cases to put back their rented instruments before carrying them out of the room. Meanwhile, while his back was turned, Lyra carefully levitated the new basket of sweets onto the desk.

But what she didn’t realize was that her teacher was using his phone as a mirror and deduced quickly who was putting treats for the past month. “Lyra Heartstrings, may I speak with you?”

In the reflection, the green student paused like how a kid would be caught sneaking out of their room after bed time, and the basket dropped on his desk that nearly fell off. While Lyra stayed in place and Harmonic moved the wooden stool over to his desk, the rest of the class soon drained out into the halls, leaving the two of them alone.

“So I can safely assume that you’re the one who’s been leaving treats on my desk and leaving cards too?” He asked as he picked up the card of kittens that simply read, ‘Our Sympathies.’

“Well… kinda,” his student began. “Actually, it’s mine and Bon Bon’s idea.”

“Would you mind if I ask why? I think I might have a good idea, but I want to hear it from you first.”

Lyra put a hand over her arm, “We know about your spouse passing away, and we just felt sorry because Bonnie had someone close to her die too.”

Harmonic sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose, “Look, Ms. Heartstrings. This is indeed kind of you and Sweetie Drops. I can see there are some good intentions behind both of your efforts. But, I must ask you both to please stop. I’m fine. I don’t need to be brought gifts by those who probably have never met either me or my spouse. It’s not that I don’t appreciate the time, money, and thought you two had put into cheering me up with candy, but to me, I’m sorry to say, this seems rather shallow.

“I can see that you are a good student, Lyra, you’re doing pretty well on the harp, especially for the Queen piece, but you have no reason to do this. So please, stop doing this. I’ll be alright. Now, you’re excused.”

Lyra didn’t say anything; she packed up the rest of her school supplies and headed out the door.

Harmonic turned to the basket and sat it behind his desk. Opening a drawer, he took out the score for the next period when out the corner of his eye, he spotted something on one of the student’s chairs. It was a note of line paper that said: ‘To Mr. H.’

Raising an eyebrow, he walked over the risers to pick up the note. It read, “Mr. H, Ah need to talk to ya, meet me in the Library durin’ lunch. – Braeburn.”

He was puzzled, for the next several hours until the bell rang for a lunch break, the Orchestra Teacher was a bit confused on what Braeburn wanted. As far as he knew, he was doing okay in his class. Not the best violinist in the string group, but he’s improving. Yet, this was not what piqued his curiosity, rather it was the fact that his student wanted to speak to him outside of his class room and not in between classes was peculiar enough.

But by the time the bell rang for lunch, Harmonic made his way over to the Teacher’s Lounge to wolf down his meal before he could confront his student. As he neared, there was the smell of something cooking as he neared the door.

When he opened it, he was half surprised to find that smack dab in the middle of the Lounge was a bar that was certainly not there this morning. It was a bar where the smells of roasting vegetables, butter, eggs, rice, and meats were sizzling on a flat, hot slab of steel. And behind it was Mr. Disc with a white bandanna with a red dot tied to his forehead.

“What’s going on?”

Many of the teachers turned to look at him, “Hey there Trotivari!” Julius called behind the grill, “Come on in and have a seat. I’m almost done with Cheerlee’s dish, so I’ll do you’re real quick.” He sat down in complete confusion next to Vice Principal Luna. “So what will it be? Teriyaki Chicken? Sukiyaki Steak? Or can I interest you in some Filet Mignon?”

“What are you doing?” Harmonic questioned.

“New hobby,” the Art Teacher said as he chopped up a flaming tower of onion. “Went to that new Japanese place on Applewood and I was impressed by the Hibachi chefs over there. So when I came in here and found out that everybody was eating the same old tuna sandwiches, I thought, ‘Why not give it a try?’”

The Violinist looked up at the ventilation system overhead before turning towards Luna, “Is this even legal?”

The blue Vice Principal swallowed her noodles, “I’m not too sure, to be honest. I guess as long as he has something to prevent the school from being set on fire and a way to divert any possible smoke, it should be fine. Besides, these are really good noodles.”

Mr. Disc asked him what the Violinist would have, “Just make something that’s quick, there’s a student that wants to talk with me.”

“Sure thing,” soon enough, the older teacher cleaned off space for him to dump a stack of vegetables and dosing them in oils and sauces. Once that was done, he asked, “So how are you doing today?”

“I’m okay; it’s just another day of teaching. What about you?”

“Never better,” he smiled, “I got an invite to Equestria for Spring Break. I don’t know about you, but I’m very much looking forward to going there again.”

Harmonic shrugged, “I’m not planning to go anywhere myself.”

“You still in the gloom?”

The Violinist frowned, “No, I am fine. I’ve told everyone and their cat this, I’m okay now.”

“Whatever you say,” Mr. Disc mused as he copped the vegetables. “By-the-way, do you want this with fried rice or not?”

Harmonic shook his head. “Hey, since I’m back here, there’s something I don’t think I’ve asked you yet.”

“Asked me about what?”

“Have you gone out with Celestia yet?” This got both Mr. Disc and Luna’s attention.

Julius sighed, “Look, Harm, I’ve already given that up a long time ago.”

Luna raised an eyebrow, “Hold on, you actually like my sister?”

He shook his head, “Not anymore. I believe that she had made it very clear that she has already much more to worry about than romance. Besides, I’m too old to date anyway. Oh and, here’s your vegetables,” Julius handed over a plate of steaming hot carrots, broccoli, mushrooms, and onion over to Harmonic with chopsticks.

One plate of veggies and Julius avoiding any further questions on Celestia later, the Orchestra teacher made his way towards the school’s library on the second floor. It didn’t take long to locate where his student was. He found Braeburn across the doorway in the non-fiction section of the library.

Walking over, Harmonic could pick up some physical cues coming off from the yellow cowboy. His fingers wouldn’t hold still, he’d been pacing around in the tight rows of books, and his eyes didn’t wonder off as soon as he spotted him. Clearly, his student looked very nervous about something.

“So…” Braeburn started in a low voice, looking at the other students in the library, “Y’all got mah note?”

“I did,” the Violinist raised an eyebrow, “Is there any reason why you asked me here?”

He nodded, “Let’s go to the back of the library, Ah don’t wanna attract any attention.”

‘What is going on?’ Harmonic thought as he silently followed him to the back of the sections of books. “Braeburn, what’s this all about?”

Once they were in the very back, the cowboy was certain that it’s just the two of them after looking around. He said, “To be honest, with all that’s been happenin’, Ah was kinda hopin’ you can help me.”

His teacher tilted his head, “I don’t quite follow.”

“W-Well… Ah…” he stumbled over his words. Sighing, he said, “This is gonna be harder than Ah thought.” After taking a moment to collect his thoughts he said, “Ah guess Ah oughta get this out there first. Mr. H, Ah’ve heard about yer uh… husband,” Braeburn whispered the last word almost under his breath.

Harmonic frowned, “Yes. I did have a husband, is there a problem Mr. Apple?”

“Wha? Oh! No! Nothin’ like that at all sir!” There was a ‘shush’ from somewhere in the library before he continued, “It ain’t like that one bit Mr. H. Ah don’t really have a problem myself because…” Braeburn muttered something under his breath, but this time, his teacher couldn’t hear him.

“Sorry? I don’t think I got that.”

His yellow student looked around once more, making absolutely sure that no one hears him whisper, “Ah’m… gay too, sir.”

There was a pause before the Orchestra teacher asked, “And?”

Braeburn sighed, “It’s just… since Ah’ve lived in a town where Ah think that Ah’m really the only one that… swings that way, Ah have literally nobody ta talk to. When you’re in a place where no one isn’t exactly like you nor have a clue what yer goin’ through, Ah guess that you’d feel, well, lost. But when Ah’ve heard that you’re… well… l-like me, only who’s older and knows what to expect out of life when Ah can’t turn to mah parents about these sort of issues.

“Sir, Ah ain’t here to tell ya about how sorry Ah am about what happened to yer husband because Ah don’t know what ta say about it. Ah’m turnin’ to you because yer the only one within who-knows-how-many-miles around that might actually get it. Someone who’ll listen ta me when Ah’m too scared of talkin’ with anybody else, so in a way that would get rid of the whole idea that Ah’m alone here.”

There was a pause; Harmonic put his hand underneath his chin. He could tell that his student was being honest with him. Not just honest, but willing to put his trust into his hands. In a way, he did know what Braeburn was feeling… perhaps, a little too well. He remembered being his age was anything but easy, especially when that sense of dread followed him around like a shadow. Unlike Braeburn, he didn’t have anyone to turn to in such a confusing time.

So… perhaps…

Harmonic leaned back against the bookcase, “I’m listening.”

Braeburn blinked… and blinked again, “You… you will?”

His teacher nodded, “The only thing I could offer you isn’t wisdom, but experience. For there’s a difference between the two – experience is learning from what has happened to you, wisdom is judging the experiences from yourself and others to give fair advice. I can assume that whatever happened to you in the past isn’t exactly like mine, but as a teacher, I’ll do the best I can to offer what I’ve learned from my experience to give you whatever advice you need.”

“Wow… Oh wow, thanks Mr. H.”

“So, now that you have my attention, what’s the problem?”

“Oh! Right,” the cowboy cleared his throat. “To start with, you know Soarin right?”

“Cloudline? The percussionist in the first period right?” he nodded, “Somewhat, why?”

“Well, he’s mah best friend ya see. He’s actually one of four people that know that Ah’m… you know. That includes mah cousin, her sister, you, and him. Ah’ve known ‘em since around Jr. High when we were on the same soccer team for our school. Out of all the people on that team, he was the one that I grew close to. Even when all the practices and tournaments were long over, we just wanted to jus’ hang out with each other, you know?” Here, the yellow student smiled fondly, “He’s always fun jus’ ta be around. Always filled with life, even when things weren’t goin’ well fer him, Soarin always found some reason to smile. Even somethin’ ta laugh at too. He’s the first one Ah’ve ever got any compliments after Ah made an apple pie all by myself fer the first time.

“So really, what could Ah say about ‘em, he doesn’t have any stick-up attitude. He’s loyal, that even when all my Jr. High buddies had faded, he still remained. He’s honest that even when he tells me somethin’ that Ah don’t want ta here, Ah still needed it.”

“If I didn’t know any better,” Harmonic commented, “I would say that you’re very fond of Soarin.”

Braeburn blushed, “Actually… Ah do. You’d might say that he indirectly helped me put two and two together in figurin’ out what Ah am. But the thing is, even when Ah told ‘em about mah orientation, Ah haven’t told him everythin’. Why would Ah? Especially when he goes out with these other girls every so often when they usually end up dumpin’ him, so in fact Mr. H, every time he talks about bein’ with ‘Ms. Perfect,’ Ah can’t help it but feel… well… jealous.”

“So I’m guessing that your best friend is going out with someone now?”

He nodded, “Yeah, with someone on the Wondercolts team fer about a month now. Ah don’t know what to worry about more: if this relationship with Fleetfoot will last fer a long time and that he’ll be happy; or that he’ll get dumped again and watch his heart get broken. He really does want a relationship with someone, but Ah fear that if Ah told him now while he’s with her, it would break this friendship of ours apart, and Ah can’t risk it.

“Mr. H, Ah doubt that he’ll return mah crush or whatever. In fact, don’t know why Ah’ve developed these feelin's fer him anyway. And Ah know that Ah can’t help it either, but it’s just another needle in the heart every time he goes off with one girl and comes back all sad like. Ah don’t want ta lose ‘em, as Ah’ve said, but Ah’m all at a lost at what ta do.”

Harmonic hummed in thought for a moment, “Braeburn, when I was about your age, I had convinced myself for a long time that I was a freak for many reasons, and yes, my sexuality was one of them. I had thought that nobody would be insane enough to fall in love with me. So you could imagine that I was pretty miserable. But when I first met my husband… to say that I was suspicious would be an understatement. He gave me something that I thought was impossible, a chance. Not at a romantic relationship, mind you, but a kind of friendship.

“Overtime, bit by bit, hangout after hangout, we grew closer. At the time, he was falling in love with me, but wasn’t sure when nor how to say it to me. Well, one night, he came to my home and tells me that he went back to his home/art studio and tells me that he was robbed. He came to my place because he didn’t feel safe there. Well, after he agreed to sleep on my bed and me on the couch, he saw me playing a lullaby on my violin and asked why. I gave him my personal backstory to him, and in that moment when he was trying to comfort me… Well… he gave me his first kiss… as well as mine. I guess he was too tired of hiding the truth from me.

“What I’m getting at here, is that if you want to tell Soarin your feelings, do so when you feel the time is right. Remember that. It may not be today or tomorrow, but when you feel that your friend is in a position where he’s willing to listen to you, tell him. Sometimes the truth really will set you free.

“If you know that your friendship is strong enough that telling him what your orientation is doesn’t destroy it, perhaps telling him your crush wouldn’t either. And remember, this is high school, not every relationship will last. If he does stay with her, at least tell him the truth so that at least he knows about how you feel about him. But if he doesn’t with her, remember, stand back when he falls, but you have to be there to pick up the pieces like a good friend, or a boyfriend would.”

The bell rang, signaling that class is about to begin.

“So, does that help?” Harmonic asked.

His student nodded, “Ah think so, thank ya, sir,” he smiled before he too started to head towards the Library’s doors.

“Braeburn,” he turned around when his teacher said, “Look, if there’s anything you want to talk about, you know where to find me.”

“Ah know,” the cowboy nodded, “Thanks fer really listenin’.”

With that, both the teacher and the student went their separate ways.

_*_

Harmonic turned his car off once he was parked in front of The Tai Kitchen. He was a little early, about five minutes ‘til six. He wasn’t sure if his son was here or not, after all, he couldn’t see his (nor his fiancé to be a car) anywhere.

Getting out, locking his car and walking through the warm door, he looked around the restaurant to see if there were any signs of his son. Sure enough, he spotted the head hair, a blue jacket that had a red quill and inkwell on the back. And in front of him was Page Turner, a girl with wire glasses over her spring green eyes and hair and her trademark deep green shirt.

The Violinist went up to the two of them, “I hope I’m not late.”

They looked up, Page was the first to respond by getting up and hugging him, “Hey Harmonic, how’s it been?”

“Good evening to you too Page,” Script’s father said. “Mind if I take a seat?”

“Here,” his son grabbed a chair from a nearby table and scoot it over to theirs. “We haven’t ordered yet,” he added.

Once Harmonic was seated, looked through the menu, and the three of them had given out their orders, he asked, “So Page, what have you been doing lately?”

“Oh, I’m applying for a teaching position at one of the schools. I’ve just put out my resume and I’m hoping that I would get an interview.”

“You could always teach at Canterlot High,” Harmonic suggested, “Maybe Celestia will have you teach English or a Literature class.”

“I’m just excited, to be honest,” she smiled. “I just can’t wait to be able to put all those years of learning into practice.”

“Yes,” Harmonic nodded, “It’s one thing to be taught something, but it’s completely different when you’re the one who’s doing the teaching.”

“I know, I have been undergoing a teaching course after all.”

“Okay,” he turned to his son, “So Script, and how you’ve been doing?”

“I think I’m doing okay with the newspaper. I’m kinda hoping that sooner or later that they’ll promote me to become a critic.”

“Oh, what kind?”

“Well, currently, film and movies are taken up already, so perhaps I might fall back on theater or music.”

“Remind me not to invite you to any of my student’s recitals,” this got Script and Page laughing.

Sometime later, their food arrives. The conversation drove into a discussion of movies that morphed into if the book was any better. When that debate turned into talking about the viewpoints of local politics, their plates were cleared and they ordered dessert.

It was at this time that Script said to her, “Hey Page, can I ask ya something?”

“What’s that?”

“Well,” he rubbed the back of his neck, “Are you… happy with me?”

She tilted her head, “What do you mean? Of course, I do.”

“Which leads to the next question, would you want me to be the kind of guy you want to go home to? I mean, that even when you had a chaotic, bad day, am I the one that you want to see when you walk through the door.”

“Yes, but where are you going with this?”

“Well,” Script reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a box, “I guess it leads to the all-important question,” he opened the box, to which Page covered her mouth at the ring that was inside. “Page, will you marry me?”

“Are you serious?” she asked. Script nodded, “For real?”

“Uh-huh. So, will you?”

She leaped across the table, “Yes! It’s about time you asked me that!”

In the moment of euphoric happiness, Script glanced at his father that maybe, for the first time in months, that he would at least crack a smile.

Instead, he got a respectable nod, and Harmonic raising his glass to this happy occasion.

Spring, 3rd Movement.

It had been raining all that afternoon and into the evening on that day in May. The clouds drifted over the town in their swirling shades of white, gray and dull black. Every so often, a distant clap of thunder broke the meditative gloomy sky while rain soaked the rooftops, grass, and streets.

But in this dreary atmosphere, inside the home were filled with light and warmth. In one of these houses, a mint student was growing weary from reading from her textbook. Taking her eyes off of it and rubbing it, she heard a ring coming from her nightstand. She went over to her bed and unplugged the charger to see what it was.

It was a text from Bon Bon.

After tapping in a few places, she read the message: ‘Hey, how are ya?’

She texted back, ‘Worn out. I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck and then got ran over by a train.’

A moment later, she got a reply, ‘Yeah. I need a break too.’

‘I guess you’re ready for summer too, huh?’

‘Oh yeah. I’m not sure if I could take any more of this.’

‘Hey, don’t worry, just one more month and we’ll be free from homework to enjoy the sun.’

A minute later, her cell rang, ‘I can’t wait. I just want to get the finals over with. I just hope that I could still pass my classes.’

‘Hey, you’ll do fine. Trust me. :-)’

‘I hope so. Do u think you’re ready for the concert thing for Orchestra on the last day of school?’

Lyra thought for a moment before she texted back, ‘I think I’ll be okay. After all, there’s no harp for the Classical piece.’

‘Well, you’re lucky! I have to play the old horn for both, and I’m not sure if I’m ready.’

‘Aw, come on, you’re not that bad.’

‘Really?’

‘I’m not lying. You’re getting better each time we practice together.’

‘Thanks.’

‘No prob. In truth, I’m kinda nervous myself.’

‘Oh?’

‘Yeah, I’m doing my best in Orchestra, but doesn’t it seem that Mr. H is too much of a perfectionist?’

There was a pause from the other end before Bon Bon responded, ‘I don’t blame you, it’s kinda the reason why I’m nervous too about the big concert.’

‘Okay, now I can see why. But 2 be fair, he’s not exactly demanding. He just points out what we need to work on.’

‘True. And we didn’t get into much trouble when he found out who was putting all that candy on his desk and why.’

Lyra frowned, ‘I know, but I still think it isn’t right that he should still go through this alone. So do u think that we might be going at this the wrong way?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Anyway, I need to get back to my homework.’

‘Okay, see you later sweetie.’

Lyra smiled as she texted, ‘U too,’ and returned to her textbook on her desk.

_*_

The young Cloudline was rocking his head back and forth to the music that bled through his earphones. Lying on his bed with one leg crossed over and both of his arms rested on his head, he was captivated in his favorite music. Then, from his pants pocket, he felt his phone vibrate once. Reaching into his jeans, he pulled out his cell, turning it on to find a text from Braeburn.

He opened it up to read: ‘Hey, U busy?’

Soarin started to use the tiny keyboard and wrote, ‘Nope, just listening to music. What’s up?’

A minute later, his friend replied, ‘I just feel horrible.’

This got the blue Wondercolt to raise an eyebrow, ‘Why? What’s wrong?’

‘I don’t think I’ve been a good friend to ya lately.’

‘Well, u have been avoiding me a lot.’

‘Yeah, sorry about that, it’s just I have a lot on my mind.’

‘Anything serious?’

There was a long pause as the cowboy didn’t respond back. He was about to press further when his phone lit up, ‘Not really. I guess I’ve kinda felt that I’ve been left out.’

Now Soarin was curious, ‘Felling left out? Buddy, what’s this about?’

‘Fleetfoot.’

Now it started to make sense, Soarin chuckled, ‘Aw c’mon man, just because I’m seeing her, doesn’t mean that I’ve forgotten about u. You’re still my friend no matter what. I’m not gonna let a girl get in between us dude.’

‘Really?’

‘Yeah man.’

‘Well, there’s something else too. Tell me, how are you two really?’

‘We’re doing good. I don’t know if it’s gonna be serious this time, but I have my fingers crossed.’

‘I’m worried about u getting dumped again.’

Soarin rolled his eyes, ‘Really? That’s what you’ve been avoiding me over? In case I get dumped? Dude, you don’t have to worry about my problems. Fleet and I are doing good.’

‘What have you two been doing?’

‘Nothing much, going to movies, having lunch, telling jokes, all that. Not to the point where we call ourselves girl/boyfriend, but I think we’re getting close.’ For a solid five minutes, there was nothing on the other end, so Soarin, out of concern texted, ‘Hello?’

‘Does she make you happy?’

‘Yeah. I think so.’

‘K. Just promise me that you’ll be careful. I don’t want u to get all depressed again.’

Soarin smirked, ‘Of course I’m careful. Don’t worry so much dude, I know what I’m doing.’

‘If you say so… Soarin, can we still hang out? I still feel bad for avoiding ya.’

‘Of course man! How about tomorrow?’

‘Sure. What do ya want to do?’

Soarin thought for a moment, ‘How about we eat out somewhere, grab something to eat for lunch?’

‘Being Saturday, I still have a few chores to do. But if I get up early to do them, I bet I’ll be free by noon.’

‘Cool! It’ll be great to talk to ya again.’

‘U too. In a way, I’ve been kinda missing ya from not talking with ya.’

‘Same. I was worried for a while that I’ve made you angry at me for some reason.’

‘Soar, I can’t ever get mad at ya if u tried.’

The athlete chuckled, ‘Lol. Welp, see ya tomorrow dude.’

‘K. See ya.’

With a sigh of relief, he turned up the music, knowing that all is well with the universe.

_*_

“You know,” Harmonic said, “It’s not every day that I would get people over for dinner.” He carried the bowl of soup from the kitchen into the tiny dining room. Serving from a porcelain bowl that he had to dust and wash since he hadn’t used it for so long because of his two guests that had called ahead.

“That’s quite alright,” Celestia said politely, placing the napkin on her lap.

“It isn’t every day that my sister and I would eat at one of our fellow faculties’ homes either,” Luna commented, “We understand completely.”

“So remind me again why you suddenly decided to drop by?” Harmonic asked as he placed the bowl on the table before taking his seat.

“We just wanted to check up on you,” Principal Celestia told him, “to see how your classes are treating you and if you still wanted to continue in the fall.”

“And to inquire if you’re planning anything for summer,” Luna added.

The Violinist scoots his chair forward, “As I’ve said, I don’t have any plans on going on tour again. The teaching position has kept me occupied, and many of the students aren’t that bad to deal with.”

“So I take it that we’ll expect you for the next school year?” her alabaster boss questioned as she grabbed one of the rolls.

Harmonic shrugged, “I guess I can go for another year, but yes, I’ll still be teaching.”

Luna nodded as she passed the salad to him, “I see. But what about summer break? It’s around the corner after all, what are you going to do?”

“Yes, are you planning on a vacation?” Celestia asked as she scoops up the potato soup with the ladle.

“To be honest, I haven’t given much thought about spending some time away from this town. After all, with me hopping from city to city, sometimes country to country so that people could hear me play, you tend to miss home. So while it’s unlikely I’ll be going anywhere, I think I’ve thought up of something to keep me busy.”

“Oh? And what is that?”

Once his boss was done with the ladle, he took it to fill his own bowl, “I’m wondering if I should start doing some privet music lessons for students that want to improve their skills on their instruments. Only, I’m not sure how much to charge them for how long, nor am I sure if it’s okay with either of you.”

“Technically speaking,” Luna pointed out, “You’re fine doing this if it’s outside of school grounds, as long as it doesn’t interfere with their study time. If you’re doing this privet, then yes, you can charge them however much you want.”

“Luna does have a point,” Celestia said, “Where are you planning to do these lessons?”

Harmonic shrugged, “Probably in my living room,” he pointed to the room behind to where the shiny black piano was. “Although, I’m going to need to know first off whom among my students even want to take these lessons from me.”

Both sisters nodded.

“And speaking of lessons,” Luna piped up, “What about your upcoming recital? Do you think that you’re students are prepared for it?”

“The good news is, they have improved quite a bit. But really, I think every one is getting tired and looking forward to having no school for the next three months.”

Both the principal and vice principal laughed, “I don’t blame them,” Celestia giggled, “Even for us, we just want to see something other than mountains of paperwork.”

“Tell me about it,” Luna smiled, “I’m just looking forward toward our big vacation in July.”

“May I ask where you’ll be going?” Harmonic inquired as he and his two bosses started to dig in.

“Equestria,” she said, “Although, thanks to all the chaos that has happened last year, we did go there with our mother last year. However, we’re planning to do something a little different this time.”

“Wait-a-sec, you two actually went there?”

They nodded, “We have some special connections since the portal is latterly on school grounds,” Celestia said. “Even with all of this international stuff that mother had to deal with, the Equestrians were more than welcome, if not curious to see what we were like. And I guess that goes the same with everyone. Oh! I guess I nearly forgotten to ask, have you come in contact with your counterpart?”

This got Harmonic to pause, “Pardon?”

“Well, from what news we get from the other side, there really is another you, only, a pony.”

“I’m guessing that he too had experienced a loss as well?”

Both principals paused for a moment before Celestia continued, “Well… yes but-”

“Then I don’t want to meet him,” he said, “If he really is anything like me, I don’t think even he would be in the mood of being introduced to an interdimensional twin. Besides, the whole idea of meeting yourself is just… weird to me. Besides, I’m comfortable being here at the moment, and I’m planning to make sure it stays that way.”

His bosses looked at each other before returning their gaze at the Orchestra Teacher, “Alright,” Luna stated, “We were just curious is all. If you want, we can talk about something else.”

Harmonic nodded, “Thanks. So are you two going to come to the recital on the week that school gets out?”

“Unfortunately no,” the vice-principal said, “We have to do this sort of interview with the rest of the staff. Are you looking forward to the concert thing yourself?”

“Actually, I am. As I’ve said, my students have improved tremendously. These kids are getting better with their skills with every passing day. I just can’t wait to see what it’ll add up to when the big day arrives. Not to mention they’ve picked some very fun songs to play.”

“I’ve heard that you’re going to be playing at the recital too, aren’t you?” Celestia inquired.

“Only with the Tchaikovsky piece because it is a movement of his violin concerto. You see, the orchestra bits are the easy bit compare to the solo itself.”

“How so?”

“Well… the music of it has a main theme that it repeats itself but in variations. It’s like playing Paganini, it’s really fun to play, but it’s incredibly hard. For example, playing the first variation is… doable, let’s put it as that, the second is unbelievably hard, and the third one… if you could even get there, good luck.”

“But you have played this before, right?” asked Luna.

The Violinist nodded, “I have played it in the past. For while I’m comfortable playing the most difficult part of that piece, I hope that my students are ready to perform this for the first time.”

_*_

In class, the student orchestra was beating out the last few notes of their climatic finale. Harmonic bathed in the sound as his pupils drew out the final octave before all went still. There was a tense silence as each group from the strings to the lone percussionist waited for his criticism.

But to their surprise, their teacher applauded, “There!” he cried, “You’ve got it! Give yourselves a hand,” and at once, in their relief, the students clapped at their hard work for the past three months have at last paid off.

“I’m very impressed,” Harmonic continued, “You’ve not only pulled off the Bohemian Rhapsody pretty well, but you’ve mastered Tchaikovsky too.” Looking at the clock, he added, “Now, since we have a few minutes of class left, I need to talk to you about a few things while you rest.”

Once bows were on the black music stands, hands laid limp from the brass and wind instruments, their teacher told them, “Since the big recital is next week at seven, I think that right now, we need to have another vote in what order you want to perform your pieces. So by a show of hands, do you want to play at the very start?” nobody raised a hand. “Those who want to perform in the middle?” there were a few votes, but not many. “And those who want to play at the very end?” Immediately, nearly all of them did.

“Okay,” Harmonic went over to his desk to grab a clipboard where he started to jot down the order. “Another question, which pieces do you all want to perform first? The Queen song, or the Violin Concerto?” His class declared that they’ll play the Tchaikovsky last, and the Orchestra Teacher marked it down.

“Okay, and one last thing that I want to announce. Beginning Monday, the week after school ends, I’m opening to give privet music lessons to you all. This, by-the-way, is completely independent of any other school program, which means that if you want to be taught once a week by me, for half-an-hour, you’ll have to pay up. So if you have the means to give fifteen dollars for thirty minutes for once a week to improve your musical skills, please sign this paper and give the time to do these lessons.”

A hand was raised, “Mr. H, where exactly are you going to do these lessons?”

“At my home on 1406 Main Hatters Street, in my Living Room which is the first room, you’ll see when you walk through the door. I’ll have you know that my lessons include the strings, piano, percussion, winds, and brass. As I’ve said, if any of you have the means to pay and commit to a particular schedule, fill free to fill this chart with your name and time.

“So now, you are all free to wonder around, and when the bell rings, class is dismissed.”

Many students took this opportunity to stretch out their legs or simply stand up. A small group of students surrounds their teacher’s desk with a pocket full of questions.

“So, how come at your house?” one student asked.

“Simply because that is the only convenient place for me to teach since this school will be closed for the remaining summer.”

“I thought you were a Violinist,” inquired another, “so does this mean you can play on multiple instruments?”

Harmonic shrugged, “On some, yes. I’ve learned over the years how to play the viola, the piano, cello, clarinet, etc. But I just have the love for the violin in-particular. Besides, when you teach Orchestra, you have to know about the tools that you’re students are using to understand better.”

“Why half-an-hour?”

He rolled his eyes, “Because it’s summer, who wants to spend more than an hour learning music when you guys have plenty to do?” this got a chuckle out of his students.

After a few more questions, a handful of the students had flocked over to his desk to choose a particular time and day of the week before the bell rang. There were a few last minute sign-ups before the classroom was emptied.

Once Harmonic was alone, he picked up the signing sheet and scanned who among his student he’ll expect in the coming warm months. He noticed that on a Friday afternoon, the names of Braeburn had scheduled himself to be right after Soarin’s lessons. And the same goes with Lyra and Bon Bon on the very next day on Saturday evenings.

‘Oh boy, what did they sign up for…?’ he thought as he looked at the sheet closely, ‘Mr. Cloudline’s on drums. Mr. Apple on the violin… Heartstrings with the harp and Drops is… the piano? Huh, guess that’s why she wasn’t doing so well with it at the start.’

As he got out the music sheets for the next period he thought further, ‘I’m wondering what it’ll be like working with them in privet? I mean sure, Lyra and Sweetie have already stopped sending those gifts a while back, but will they bring it up again while I’m teaching either of them? And what about Braeburn? I guess he’s signing up just so that he could probably talk to me. Come to think of it…’ He shook his head, ‘Come on Harm, why are you so concerned about them anyway? They’re just students after all. They look up to you. There’s no need to be concerned about their lives, right?’

He paused before chuckling to himself, ‘Fatherly instincts, I suppose. After all, Script did look up to me and…’ Harmonic violently shook his head, ‘No! Stop it right now! Don’t think about him this early in the day! You just congratulated your students on two great performances, there’s no need to ruin what’s going to be a good day with a good injection of depression now.’

The Violinist took in a few deep breaths to steady his mind. He’ll be fine. He’s always fine while he’s in public. There’s no need to show his students his weaker side.

As he thought of this, the first of his second hour of students emerged from the door.

_*_

“I really hate these clothes,” Soarin muttered under his breath, tugging at the white collar and tie. “This thing is always so itchy.”

Braeburn chuckled, “It’s kinda weird ta see ya in somethin’ so formal. Ah, couldn’t ever picture ya in anythin’ outside of jerseys or a t-shirt.”

“I know, even seeing you without your jeans or your vest is… weird. So why are we wearing these again?”

The yellow student looked down at his attire, “Somethin’ about lookin’ professional Ah guess.”

The two of them took a moment to look around the backstage of the auditorium. They went the only ones who were whispering as music from the other orchestra from Mr. H’s classes were performing. All the male students wore white shirts and ties while the female students were in dresses. Each student was holding on to their instrument like Braeburn was clenching his violin and bow in one hand while Soarin was carrying around drumsticks in his pocket.

“Hey there,” they looked up, and even in the darken backstage of curtains and ropes, they identified who it was that spoken to them.

“Lyra… ain’t it?” Braeburn asked softly.

She nodded as she was joined by Bon Bon who had a brass horn under her arm. “So,” the mint green student started, “You ready for the big show?”

“Ah hope so, jus’ tryin’ not to be too nervous.”

“Yeah,” Sweetie Drops nodded, “I would be lying if I said that I wasn’t the least bit anxious myself.”

“Aw come on,” Lyra elbowed her; “You just have to have a bit of confidence. Remember that time when everyone and their cat went music crazy and before we did that piano duet for the audition?” she nodded, “You remember what I said?”

“Forget who’s listening, and sing to me?”

Lyra smiled and patted her shoulder, “Yeah, you’ll do fine. Just focus on the notes, and don’t get distracted.” She turned to the two other students, “Actually, I think everything will turn out fine.”

“Ah hope so,” Braeburn muttered under his breath.

“Say, how are you two doing anyway?” Bon Bon asked, “Haven’t gotten the chance to speak with ya.”

“It’s going good,” Soarin commented, “I have some plans for the summer: going to spend more time about my wings; drumming lessons from Mr. H, and going on more dates with Fleetfoot.”

“You’re taking up privet lessons from him too?” Lyra inquired, “So did we.”

“Same,” the cowboy commented.

“Hey,” Sweetie Drops turned to Braeburn, “What are you doing for the summer?”

He shrugged, “Chores around the farm, fiddle lessons, nothin’ much outside of that.”

“Wow, you’re boring,” Soarin joked; this got his friend to glare at him.

“And preparin’ fer the Fourth of July,” the cowboy added. “After all, the family’s comin’ fer the fireworks on the farm.”

“Oh yeah, since your guy’s farms are on the hills, you get the best view in town for it.”

“Eeyup,” he said proudly, however, both of them paused when they heard the two girls giggling, “What’s so funny?”

“It’s nothing,” Sweetie Drops gave a sly grin while trying to cover it with her free hand.

Before either of them could press any further on why they acted like that, the other orchestra had finished their piece and started to walk off the stage to the applause in the auditorium. And it was also here that Harmonic popped his head through the stage curtains, “Alright, here we go everybody.”

Taking up their courage and whatever confidence they had, the students picked up their instruments and walked into the light of the stage. There was respectable applause coming from their audience, no doubt from their families that had come to support them. Once they found their respected seats, their teacher came out on stage to the conductor’s stand and instructed them to tune up.

At first, there was the sound a piano pressing a note before the humming of the violins and violas with the cellos and horns following close by. Winds whirled up and down and the harp danced around the scales. The brass had an underplayed fanfare as the percussion tapped for the right intensity. For a moment, each instrument tried to settle on the right tone while a few flutes, bassoons, and trumpets declared their voices.

As for Harmonic, who had a bow in hand and his battered up violin case behind him, tapped on the music stand with his bow to get everyone’s attention. Turning around, he grabbed the microphone. “And now, our last two pieces for tonight will be played by my students in first hour. I must say, that I am quite impressed with all of them in the effort they had put into the music you’re about to hear. So, now the first piece you’ll hear comes from what hast to be, the most famous song that Queen has ever made, and done in an arrangement that my students have done perfectly.

“So, without wasting any more time, I give you the orchestra arrangement of Bohemian Rhapsody, with Ms. Rose for the viola solo.”

The audience kindly clapped as the redheaded girl walk up to the front of the stage beside the Orchestra teacher, putting the wooden instrument underneath her chin and her bow on the strings.

Looking over to his students, they too did the same thing; the entire string section placed the pieces of wood underneath their chins, with one hand on the strings and the other on the bow that waited for his signal. Putting down his bow, Harmonic raised his hands to where he studied himself for the moment of judgment for both of his students, and for those who were in the auditorium.

Then, the violas and cellos started to ask the question of what is real or fantasy. In the moment of uncertainty, the violins, harp and the viola soloist joined in with the discussion with the clarinets drifted like a ghost over the uncertainty of it all.

Strings, wind, and horns, if not the rest of the orchestra began to weave the musical fantasy with the viola as a narrator. Soon, the soloist began with a remorseful confession to someone close. The soft horns and strings added to the melodrama before telling to carry on, no matter what happens.

At the goodbye, the soloist confesses that although scared, she knows that she hast do go through with the trial with dignity.

After a fanfare of the trumpets and percussion, the fantasy cuts to the trial where calculated strings and thunderous horns defend and prosecuted the soloist among the drama. Both sides went back and forth on what is to be done for the violist for this monstrosity.

It came to the point where the brass and strings shrilled in defiance over the defense of the protagonist. Giving a strong argument in a roar of truth over those who want nothing but to harm the violist, however, the percussion and brass shouted back their case.

This went on until the order was given for both sides to calm down, meanwhile, the viola gives the statement that whatever happens to her, it doesn’t matter for she is willing to go where the wind blows in her fate.

Once the fantasy faded into silence, there sounds of approval from cheers to clapping all around the auditorium, much to the Orchestra’s relief.

Harmonic turned his attention towards his coffin case, which he unlatched and pulled out his violin before taking the microphone in his hand, “Now that was quite the song, no? I think that was a pretty good warm-up for our final piece, which is P. I. Tchaikovsky’s first movement of his first (and only) violin concerto.”

There were whispers among the audience before the Violinist continued, “Before we begin, a little background is needed to fully understand this piece.

“If the name Tchaikovsky sounds familiar, he’s the same guy who composed the Swan Lake ballet, The 1812 Overture, and is known for his Nutcracker. This concerto was written after his success of Swan Lake, and shortly after his first and only marriage ended in disaster. He fled to Italy with a violinist who commissioned him to write this concerto. This was one of his happiest pieces because, at the time, he had fallen in love with someone else, and was missing his native Russia.

“So, here tonight, we present the first movement, with me playing one of the most difficult solos in history, is what I like to call, ‘Tchaikovsky in Love.’”

There was a collective chuckle as he turned to his students, who already switched music sheets and were ready for him to start.

Turning around, and with a wave of his hand, his student orchestra began with a prelude, as the beginning of a dance. The cellos and clarinet rose with anticipation with the violas and violins rising with them.

And then, with his eyes closed, Harmonic began to play on his rare violin the music of a gypsy that rose up the scales to lure in the audience into a series of memories. In Harmonic’s mind, although he had played this before, each performance was different because of all the memories that would drift through his head. In this case, he tried to recall as many happy memories as possible for his music to fly.

He recalled his son’s adoption on one Christmas day, who gave him a chance to raise him into the wonderful man that his fiancé would marry soon. Not to mention that he recalled the day that his son found his calling in creative writing. He also remembered witnessing the proposal and the joy that was on their faces.

Yet, the one person that kept haunting him was his late husband. Perhaps that was why his violin sounded as sweet as he recalled the life and times of Color. Like the day that he first was introduced to him as a late teen. As he recalled, someone name Cadence knew a friend of hers who was a painter and arranged a meeting for the both of them. Their first “date” was color painting his portrait of him playing the violin. Although it was an awkward start, it did catch his attention.

Then there was the time when Color had caught a cold so he prepared some soup in his messy apartment/studio, or when he was taught how to ice-skate for the first time.

In his nostalgia, he was lost in the music of his memories that he nearly had forgotten that his students were still playing. But when there were parts where there was nothing but his violin, he almost daydreamed that the auditorium was empty, all except for Color. He could see in his mind’s eye that his husband was sitting in one of the rows of seats, leaning forward as he played his best for him.

Meanwhile, in reality, the teacher’s spider-like fingers went all over the black neck of his instrument, yet still done in the mastery of his experience. His students still kept up as best as they could when he goes from a soft, joyful sound to a lightning pace of notes from one bar to the next.

From the audience’s perspective, while Harmonic was giving his emotional performance, some could have sworn that there was a tear that trailed down from his eyes.

_*_

Several minutes later, the student and the teacher brought their long piece to an end, their hands tired, and some out of breath; they beat out the last notes of the concerto into silence. They were received by an avalanche of applause as cheers, whistles and claps rolled down the seats and onto the stage.

Harmonic opened his eyes, turning to his students, all of them stood up from their seats, and as one, they bowed. “That’s all we have,” he said taking the microphone, “You have been wonderful! Thank you, good night, and have a great summer.” And with that, the crimson curtain fell, muffling the audience’s reaction.

Turning to his students, he told them, “That was exceptional work everyone, give yourselves a round of applause,” they did so.

“That was awesome!” Soarin exclaimed.

With a chuckle, their teacher said, “As of now, your grades will be up tomorrow. So have a good week everybody, and have a good summer.” And with that, everyone started to pack up their instruments and music sheets, anticipating going home after a long night’s performance.

“Boy am Ah plum tired,” Braeburn commented as he caught up with his best friend.

The blue athlete grinned, “Yeah, but that was worth it huh?” he said as he reached into his pocket to check his silenced cellphone.

Meanwhile, the yellow cowboy went over to his case, “Ah admit, that was pretty fun, especially listenin’ to Mr. H’s fiddle. Whooh! Can he play am Ah right?” there was no response. Confused, he turned to his best friend and saw that Soarin had a devastated look on his face as he stared at his phone. “Uh, Soar? You alright there partner?”

“What?” Soarin asked softly but distantly as if he wasn’t talking to his friend anymore.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Braeburn got up to look over Soarin’s shoulder at his phone.

There, he saw a text from Fleetfoot, ‘Hey Soar,’ it said, ‘I’m sorry that I have to tell u this, but I don’t think this is going to work. Don’t get me wrong, you’re a great guy, but I’m afraid that I don’t feel that much of a connection to u. I think its best that we break this up before it gets worse. I see you more as a friend than a boyfriend. I’m sorry about this.’

“But… why?” Soarin’s voice cracked, “W-What did I do wrong?”

“Hey, buddy,” Braeburn spoke with caution.

“I thought… I thought it was going to work this time… I-I thought we really had something… Why is she b-breaking up?” now his eyes started to water. “What did I do wrong?”

“Hey now,” the cowboy placed a comforting hand over his shoulder, “Don’t speak like that, it ain’t the end of the world.”

“But… I-I don’t understand,” now the athlete’s eyes overflowed, and as if on instinct, Braeburn hugged him, while his best friend started to sob.

This didn’t go unnoticed, their teacher noticed the sound of sadness and walked over to them, “What’s going on?” he asked.

“Mr. H,” Braeburn said, “Now ain’t a good time.”

Harmonic looked over at his sobbing student, “You sure?”

He nodded, still holding tightly onto Soarin until his shirt was soaked in his beloved’s tears.

Summer, 1st Movement.

In a way, Harmonic liked June. It was at a time when the sun was just close enough to the earth without scorching it. It was at a time when everything from the grass that continually demand for water and a trim and the trees are in a rich green. There was the breeze that carried the soft nose of rustling of leaves, and the distant chatter of neighbors and their children.

Harmonic turned away from the window to look at the clock on the mental. It’s almost time for his first of many privet lessons to begin today. He had finished lunch by this time and waited for someone to pull up in his driveway.

Luckily for the teacher, his student didn’t take long to show up. A blue car pulled up in front of his sidewalk. Out from the passenger’s side, the student he was expecting got out, exchanging a few words to the driver before walking up to his front door, all the while noticing the pair of drumsticks in his pocket.

One ring of the doorbell later, Harmonic went up to the door to open it, “Hey Mr. H.”

He nodded back, “Afternoon Soarin,” the teacher stepped aside and welcomed the blue athlete inside. “Since you’re learning further about the percussion, I think I should show you to the garage. It’s where I keep a few drums and come to think of it, I think they need a good dusting.”

Soarin stepped through the front entrance and gave a low whistle. In the living room, there was a shiny black piano, a few tapestries, and paintings, a good size fireplace, a bookshelf, and an entertainment center that was filled with books, CD’s, a TV, and a stereo that faced the burgundy and gold couch. “Nice place.”

“Thanks, it’s a little funny how well paid an ex-concert violinist can be. Some would think I should live in a villa, but I think this is cozy enough.”

“So wait, you’re practically rich from playing the violin and you wanted to live here?”

Harmonic shrugged, “What can I say, this town is home to me.”

As he followed his music teacher down the hallway to the garage, Soarin noticed that on the wall where there were a few framed pictures hanging up, there were a few spaces where there was still an outline of something that once hung there. It didn’t take long for the blue athlete to guess to what kind of photos they were, after hearing about what Bon Bon said about a passing spouse. ‘Maybe the guy’s still hurtin’,’ he thought.

At the end of the hall was the door to the garage. Soarin half expected it to be the messiest part of the house. However, it was organized with everyday items on shelves like pesticides, rock salt, extension cords, etc… his teacher’s car was parked towards the foldable door, and in a corner, there was an aged yellow sheet that protected an odd shaped object from dust.

Harmonic carefully pulled back the sheet to reveal not just a drum set that one would see at rock concerts, but brass timpani, a small wind chime, and even a decent size gong.

“Holy crap dude,” Soarin exclaimed, “Where’d you get all of that?”

“I’ve been collecting instruments over the years. When I used to compose, I would prefer hearing the sound of the instruments to give me some inspiration.”

“You used to write songs?”

“Eh,” the amber teacher dusted off one of the drums with his hand, “Not the one with lyrics usually. They were for more instrumental.”

“Oh.”

The athlete walked up to the impressive collection of drums when his teacher asked, “Hey Soarin, mind if I ask you a personal question – nothing big or anything, just out of curiosity.”

“Shoot.”

“At the recital,” Harmonic said when he placed the cymbals on the set. “After everyone was done and ready to go, I saw you in tears. It’s something that I didn’t understand, everyone was so happy after we performed, and then I saw you like that. So, what happened?”

Soarin sighed, “It was something stupid, Mr. H.”

“Tears are not stupid, something was bothering you, and I’m stumped as to why.”

His student looked up, and said in a monotone voice, “I got a text, saying that my girlfriend had decided to dump me. I’m not exactly sure why, but she-” Soarin stopped suddenly before clearing his throat, “Sorry, you don’t wanna hear that.”

“Says who?” his teacher raised an eyebrow, “I’m guessing that this isn’t the first time this happened, did it?”

Soarin had a look of surprise on his face, “How did you know that?”

“Lucky guess, but a good one. So, are you aright Soarin?”

He shrugged, “Just still a bit bummed out, I guess. And you’re right, this isn’t the first time that somebody had dumped me… nor will it be the last.”

Harmonic paused, “You think nobody will be insane enough to love you for you, right?”

“Nailed it,” he muttered.

“Yet, why did you go on those dates anyway?”

Soarin tiled his head, “Why? What do you mean why?”

“Do you really believe that nobody will ever love you back? If you really did, you would have given up altogether. Yet, you’ve done it again and again, why?”

The teenager put his hands in his pockets, “I don’t know… maybe there’s still hope for me?”

“Bingo,” Harmonic snapped his fingers, “You still have hope.”

“What does that mean?”

“Have you heard the phrase, ‘Love is patient’?” his student nodded, “If there’s anything I’ve learned from my past marriage, is that finding someone to be with takes time. Even if you did find someone you like, you still need time to fully decide if you want to spend your lives together, not because of what they appeared to be, but who they really are. If you go off solely by looks, then you’re doomed to fail. For it takes work to care for someone you love.”

Soarin blinked, “Whoa.” He scratched his head, “I’ve never seen it like that before.”

“Take a seat,” Harmonic gestured over to the old leather stool. “I think it’s about time we begin this music lesson.”

“Let’s,” Soarin took out the drumsticks from his pocket, “and thanks to Mr. H about that advice.”

“No problem,” Harmonic stood in front of the drum set, “Okay, tell me, what do you know about rhythm?”

_*_

Half-an-hour later, the doorbell was heard, “Looks like time’s up,” Harmonic said.

Soarin put down his drumsticks, “Already? Well, that was quick.”

His teacher stood upright after leaning against his car, “I know, time really files when you’re doing something interesting.” The blue athlete got up from his seat and followed him out of the garage. “Before I forget, are you going to pay me the fifteen dollars now or thirty next week?”

“Hang on, I’ve got it,” Soarin reached into his pocket to grab out his wallet, withdrawing from it a five and a ten. “Thanks for reminding me.”

Harmonic took the cash and put it in his pocket, “So I would expect you to be here next week?”

“Yeah, I can defiantly do that,” the two of them got to the front door to where they found Braeburn standing there with a black violin case. “Brae?” Soarin blinked, “What are you doing here?”

His yellow friend held up his case, “Violin.”

“Oh, cool,” Soarin Cloudline walked pass the front door and around the cowboy, “Later dude.”

Braeburn waved back, with a smile and a nod, “You too,” before entering his teacher’s living room.

“Well,” Harmonic said, getting his student’s attention, “How are you this afternoon?”

“A bit tuckered out,” he said, following his teacher towards the piano. “Had chores ta be taken care of this mornin’, but Ah think Ah can still play.”

“In that case, take a seat on the couch; I’ll go get my violin.”

While his teacher was going up the stairs, Braeburn did as he was instructed and took a moment to look around at his surroundings while he was opening his case.

For the Apple Farmer, Braeburn didn’t know what to expect from his music teacher’s home would be like. Since he never really met anybody like himself, he wasn’t sure if Harmonic’s home followed any of the clichés of flamboyance when it comes to people of their orientation. However, looking around inside his actual home, the only word that came to Braeburn’s mind was… tasteful, and never to the point where it’s overdone.

Footsteps were heard as the student turned to see Harmonic with his signature coffin case, “So, before we jump to today’s lesson, are there any questions you have for me?” he asked as he placed the case on the piano.

“How’s Soarin?” Braeburn inquired.

“What, at his lessons or in general?”

He shrugged, “The latter, Ah guess.”

“Well, he was a little hurt about what happened at the recital, but I’ve given him some advice to cheer him up a bit.”

Then a thought came to the farmer’s mind, “Mr. H, Y'all didn’t tell him about me… did ya?”

“Why would I do that?” Harmonic flipped open his case, “I don’t have much of a say when it comes to these sorts of things unless asked directly. So no, I didn’t tell him about your crush on him, I consider that to be rude.”

He gave a relieved sighed, “Thanks. Ah figured to let him know would be too soon.”

“Understandable,” his teacher took out his violin, “Any other questions?”

“Well… A few things, and it’s out of curiosity,” Braeburn pointed at his teacher’s instrument, “Fer starters, about yer fiddle.”

“What about it?”

“Ah’ve noticed that whenever yer playin’ that, it… how do Ah say this…? It sounded different from the other violins Ah’ve heard, but Ah can’t put mah finger on why.”

“Ah, your hunch is right actually, this violin is indeed different in a very special way.”

“How so?” he tilted his head.

“Can you keep a secret?” his yellow student nodded, “there’s a good reason why this is so special. It’s a kind of family heirloom because who I’m related to. You see Mr. Apple, this violin is very old. In fact,” he gently handed the instrument over to his student, “take a look inside the sound box.”

Braeburn put his violin down and examined his teacher’s, “Ah think it’s in Latin. Wait… 1724? Man, you weren’t kiddin’.”

Harmonic nodded, “But there’s a name of the maker, do you see it?”

“Ah’m not sure… Antonio… Antonio Strad… Why does the name Stradivari sound familiar?”

“It should. Braeburn, what you are holding in your hands is a violin that’s worth millions because that right there is the most perfectly made violin ever created.”

Braeburn’s eyes widen, looking at the violin in his hands, to his teacher, and back again, “Millions, this little thing?”

“As a family heirloom,” Harmonic clarified. “I’m related to him not by blood, but by marriage in my family tree. And when my father took pride in making instruments too… I guess it’s something to brag about, huh?”

His student gave a low whistle as he handed the priceless violin back to him, “Y’all must have really lucky parents, Mr. H.”

Harmonic frowned, “Yes… I guess you could say that. Anything else you want to talk about, or do you want to just jump right in with your lessons?”

“Now you’ve mentioned it,” Braeburn rubbed the back of his neck, “Ah guess Ah need some advice myself.”

“Oh? On what exactly.”

His student’s cheeks had a light tint of pink, “Well sir, ever since Soarin’s breakup, Ah’ve been a-thinkin' about tellin’ him fer real this time. Ah know you’d said to tell ‘em when the time is right but… uh… A-Ah’ve been havin’ doubts.”

“Like what?”

“You see, given all that’s happen to him, Ah know it ain’t right ta tell him somethin’ that’s earthshatterin’ when he had both his feelings and his pride been smashed like a fake crystal ball that has fallen off the high shelf. Course, Ah check up on ‘em every so often ta see if he really needs some cheerin’ up. But, Ah’ve been wonderin’ somethin’ that Ah personally don’t wanna think about.”

“What’s that?”

“Remember when Ah said that Ah don’t think he’ll return mah feelings fer me?”

His teacher nodded, “Something like that.”

“Ah’ve been thinkin’, what if it’s true? What if it’s completely pointless, that Ah like like Soarin, but he won’t feel tha same because he really is straight? After all, how can Ah handle being put down by ‘em, when Ah know he’s gonna do it gently?”

Harmonic gave a sad laugh, the farmer noticed this so his teacher said, “Sorry, it’s just for a moment there, you sounded like Color there?”

Braeburn tilted his head, “Ah did?”

“You see, before he met me, he had the same problem. That he too would have crushed with other guys, only to either find out that they’re either straight or weren’t interested in him. If he were here, he would probably tell you that, even if Soarin doesn’t feel the same way, it won’t be the end of the world.

“And from personal experience, before I knew Color, I had given all hope of anyone falling in love with me. I too had my heart not just broken but shattered by a bully that I had a crush on. At the time, I thought that love was something that other, normal people could only have, and mine was… a fantasy. This I can tell you Braeburn, that when you’ve convinced yourself that nobody will ever love you, and have been alone for so long, I bet that even you too can’t help but dream.”

His student nodded, “Ah do sir.”

“However, sometimes it takes patience, and arguably, a little luck might find someone that will tell you that they love you. Perhaps it’ll come from Soarin or somebody else. I guess all I can say on the matter that even when worse comes to worst, have a bit of hope that someone will fall for you.”

Braeburn nodded, “Thank you, sir,” grabbed his violin, “So anyways, what do we do now?”

“For starters, you need to decide on what you’re going to play. Any idea on what exactly?”

“Hang on a sec,” his student reached into his pockets and pulled out a folded up sheet music, all of which was written down by hand. “What about this?”

Raising an eyebrow, Harmonic unfolded the music and scanned it, “This looks familiar, what is it?”

“It’s somethin’ mah Ma loves. Some love song from an opera by some Italian fella whose name Ah can’t pronounce. But Ah think it’s from… somethin’ butterfly?”

The Violinist looked at the music again and guessed, “Madame Butterfly?”

Braeburn snapped his fingers, “Yeah! That’s it,” his teacher gave a weary moan. “What?”

“That’s why it looked familiar. Don’t get me wrong, this is a good song you’ve chosen, but…” Harmonic shook his head, “I’m guessing that you have no idea what the actual opera is about?”

His student shook his head, “Opera really ain’t ma thing.”

“Well, Puccini’s Madame Butterfly is a story about a teenage girl from Japan who had an arranged marriage with an American sailor, who is actually older then she is… Yeah I know, but just hear me out. Before she gets married, she disavowed her Japanese customs and even family to be with the sailor. However, the American was forced to return home, leaving the fifteen year old pregnant. While he’s gone for three years, she optimistically waits for her husband to return while everyone else tries to tell her that he may not be that into her. Well, when the sailor finally comes back, he tells her that he found another wife in America, and wants to take her son to be raised by him and his new wife. Since she can’t really go back to her old ways and finding out that her husband never really loved her back, she commits suicide at the end.”

His student sat there in silence before responding, “That’s… kinda dark.”

“It’s opera so… what can you do? Don’t get me wrong Mr. Apple, this aria is perfectly fine and all. But the only thing I have against it isn’t so much the music, because it does have some stunning pieces that are timeless, it’s the story that I don’t like so much.”

“Oh, Ah see.”

“So then,” Harmonic placed the sheet music on the stand on the piano, “Let’s play this through together, shall we?”

_*_

The next night, the music teacher was already finished preparing his dinner. He figured that since his last lessons for the day end by the time he usually has dinner, he might as well start cooking it. Once the crust was golden brown and the mix for the chicken pot pie had been poured in and sealed with the thin crust, he popped it into the oven.

A couple of minutes later, his doorbell rang. Harmonic answered the door to find (to his confusion) both Lyra and Bon Bon there. “Ms. Drops and Ms. Heartstrings?" he turned to the curly hair girl, "I thought your lesson is about thirty minutes from now.”

“It is,” she informed him, “Lyra had a bunch of things that she needed to do so I offered to help her for the whole day. And since our music lessons are at the same time, I thought, ‘why not just go together,’ and here we are.”

Their teacher shrugged, “Very well, come inside you two. Lyra, did you by change bring a harp with you?”

“Yeah, it’s in the back of the car… would you help us getting it out first?” their teacher rolled his eyes but complied. Walking over to the car, Lyra popped the truck where a black mass of a case was in.

“How did you two get this thing in here in the first place?” the Violinist asked as he helped pulled and lift the case out.

“Bonnie does puzzles in her spare time,” the mint student said, “Oh, and a little bit of magic helps.” She pointed her finger at a seat belt that was caught on the case’s hedges where a light green aura help set it free.

“I’ll never understand you kids and your magic,” Harmonic set the case on the ground, which now made it easier for the three of them to carry it into his living room. “Right then, which one of you is going first?”

“You can go first,” Bon Bon told her, taking a seat on the couch.

Lyra nodded, and took out from her bag some sheet music and placed them on the piano. Her teacher went around and peered at what it was. “Ah, Clair de Lune by Mousier Debussy, I’m guessing this is what you’re planning on practicing for the whole summer?”

“Well duh, why else would I bring it?”

“She’s been practicing on it for a week now,” Sweetie Drops added.

“Okay,” Harmonic sat down on the piano bench, “Show me what you got.” She did, however, as she started to play the first three notes, their teacher interrupted, “Slower.”

“Huh?”

“Do it again, but a tad slower.”

Lyra placed her hands on the harp again and started to play a touch slower. Every-so-often, she would miss a few notes, but even then, the Violinist didn’t say anything as she played. Of course, he was making mental notes over the mistakes that were being made and peered through the pattern to see how to approach what kind of lessons that Lyra will need in the coming months.

Once his student had finished, Harmonic hummed in thought, “Okay. I do see that you have put some effort into this. I confess, it’s not exactly perfect, but I do see what we can work on.”

“Like what?”

He asked her to play it again, every few bars or so, she would pause while he would either give her tips or point out where the correct notes where by playing the keys on the piano. After going over almost half-an-hour dissecting the piece Lyra called for a rest.

Harmonic looked at the clock on the mantel, “You still have a few minutes before switching over to your friend there.”

“Sure thing Mr. H,” the mint musician said, “Oh, I’ve nearly forgotten, how are you?”

He shrugged, “Just fine, why?”

She looked over to the confectionist sitting on the couch before returning to him, “Well… I guess the first thing that both Bonnie and I wanna say is sorry.”

Harmonic raised an eyebrow, “Over what, putting candy on my desk?”

They nodded, “Yeah, we’re sorry if we offended ya over it.”

He sighed, “Lyra, Sweetie, believe it or not, I know that it was a nice offering on your behalves, and I’m not upset over it anymore.”

“But, we both know what it’s like to lose someone,” Lyra told him, “Or at least, Bonnie does. We know it totally sucks when someone close to you passes and all. Heck, I had enough time to get her to smile for a while.”

Their teacher turned to his other student, “Who was it?”

“Uncle Liquorish, he may not make the best candy in the world, but he was the best when I was a kid,” she put a finger in one of her curls. “Be it birthdays, Christmas, or any excuse to celebrate where there where kids around, he would put so much effort to make it all seem magical for each and every one of us. He would go out of his way to get the best gifts, our favorite cakes, and if he couldn’t afford whatever, he would improvise with whatever he had. When the news came that he died, it was as if that sort of magic was gone.

“To tell ya the truth, in my darkest of moments and on the saddest of days, I’m thankful that Lyra was right there, you know? At the time, I thought she was annoying when she brought me stuff, but I needed it. You see Mr. H when we did the whole basket thing; we did it because we know that a little kindness does help a long way. We were just trying to get you to open up a bit.”

“I see,” Harmonic nodded. Getting up from the piano bench and sat down across from her, “Firstly, I must say that you’re right, looking back, those sweets did help brighten up my day a bit, so thank you. Secondly, I suggest you probably want to keep her around,” he thumbed over to Lyra, “someone who has been loyal in times of grief means that you have a true friend to hold on to.”

Both girls snickered, much to the Violinist’s confusion, so naturally, he asked what, “I’m not sure if you’re aware,” Lyra said, “I and Bonnie have been dating for well over a year now.”

“Oh,” Harmonic looked between them, “well, my congratulations then you two.”

“Eh, it was nothing,” the Harpist waved, “After all, as it turns out; it’s actually pretty easy when your best friend has quite the sweet tooth for-”

“Lyra!” Sweetie Drops marshmallow white cheeks took on a shade of cheery. “Please, not in front of the teacher.”

“What? That I can’t compliment you?”

“I believe she’s saying that there are a time and place for flirting,” their teacher told them. “But at any rate, I think it’s time I turn over to your sweetheart for her lessons now.”

As she got up, Bon Bon noticed that there was a pleasant smell in the air “Is something cooking?”

“Oh, that’s my dinner; it should be done by the time the two of you leave.” He got up and waved over to the piano, “So, what kind of music are you planning on playing?” The candy maker reached into her girlfriend’s bag and pulled out a book, “Erik Satie’s Gymnopedies, not bad.” Harmonic nodded in approval. “Well, take a seat, and let’s hear you play.”

_*_

Weeks went by, Harmonic saw the ebb and flow of students that would appear like phantoms and disappear just as quickly. He had to endure the sour notes and missing beats, but at least that each teenager was trying their best at what they were trying to practice. With every passing day, with every student returning weekly, there was clear evidence that they were committing their chosen melody to memory.

By the end of June, Cloudline’s lesson had ended on a positive (and rather loud) note as he crashed the symbols.

“Nicely done,” Harmonic nodded in approval. “That was much better than last week.”

“Thanks, Mr. H,” Soarin spin the drumsticks in his hands. “I can’t wait to play these beats for something.”

“Like a cover?”

“Yeah, but I’m still trying to figure out which one though. There are a lot of good ones that I could probably play with.”

“Understandable,” Harmonic looked at his watch, “Looks like time is up anyway. So for next week, make sure you’ve chosen what song you want to cover for and be sure to bring thirty dollars next time since you didn’t bring any today.”

Soarin grunted, “I said I was sorry, I’ve forgotten what day it was.”

“But at any rate,” his teacher turned to the door that leads towards the hallway, “I’ll see you next week.”

For the athlete, he started to use the garage door as making an exit. However, as the Violinist closed the door behind him, he immediately went up to the button by the light switch to open it, but instead of leaving, he paused for a moment to close it again. The reason was that he was curious about his best friend’s playing. Also, this would be the perfect opportunity to hear how his lessons were any different from his own.

A few minutes later, he heard Braeburn’s car pull up into the driveway, and he could hear from the garage open and close his door before walking up to the door.

Soarin put an ear to the door frame to hear Harmonic greet the farmer. At this, as gently as he could, he opened the door slowly before he entered into the hallway, leaning his back against the walls, and was thankful for the carpet floors to quiet his footsteps.

“The good news is that Ah was able to get it to memory,” he heard his best friend say.

“All of it?” his teacher asked as the athlete heard him opening and closing the piano bench. “If that were true, put this on.”

“A blindfold? What do Ah need this thing for?”

Soarin crept closer, inching his way down the hall, all the while, trying to remain out of sight.

“It’s a little technique that I was taught with,” their teacher explained, “After I memorized a piece on the violin, I was blindfolded to see if I really did commit to memory. It helps you focus more on the music you’re playing, and it also helps your finger positions as well.”

“Uh, okay.” By now, Soarin peaked around a corner to where he saw his friend tying on a black cloth over his eyes.

“Can you see anything?” his teacher asks.

“Nothin’ at all,” Braeburn reached for his violin and bow on the piano, tumbling a bit to get his hands in the right position.

“Come to think of it,” his teacher adds as he flipped open some music sheets on the piano stand. “I think there’s also a practical reason for the blindfold.”

“What’s that?”

“It helps you focus on your feelings,” he explained at he opened up the piano keys. “After all, I’ve noticed that when you play this, you tend to make it soft and light, but there’s no backbone to it. And you know what kind of song this is, right?”

“It’s a love song,” the yellow farmer stated.

This got Soarin’s attention, ‘Hello. He’s gonna play love song?’

Harmonic nodded, “Not just that, but if you read the actual lyrics in English, you’ll find that this aria is actually a song of longing. It’s where that Madame Butterfly looks out to sea, and daydreams about her husband’s return. And I think you know what such longingness feels like.”

Braeburn nodded, “From mah crush, it’s practically an everyday occurrence.”

Soarin raised an eyebrow, ‘So he does have one!’ he thought, ‘It’s kinda about time anyway. Wonder who the guy is?’

“So, how about we do an exercise,” their teacher suggested, “Since this is about a love song, and you’ve said that you know the notes already, I want you to imagine that you’re singing this. But instead of using your voice, I want your fingers to do all the singing. In fact, just picture for a moment that I’m not even here. Clear your mind of everyone and everything that you’re thinking right now.

“Yet, imagine for a moment that you’re in an empty theater and you’re in the spotlight. Among all the empty seats, there is one that is occupied. I guess you know who it is?”

“Soarin,” Braeburn nodded.

This caught the blue athlete off guard. He quickly ducked back into the hallway, ‘Hold on, did Brae of all people just said that he has a crush on me? I mean I know he swings that way but… with me?’

“Very good,” Harmonic’s voice was heard, “he is right there in that lonely theater, ready to listen to you. Now, think of this moment as the perfect opportunity to put everything you feel about him into every single note. So that the sound of love must always be present, understand?”

“Yes’m,” the cowboy said.

“Ready when you are,” for a moment, the stunned athlete heard nothing. But then, a sweet note from his friend’s violin started to sing with the piano complementing it. Soarin stood there, his back against the painted walls as he hears Braeburn’s musical confession.

He was mentally kicking himself for not seeing this sooner. That he hadn’t considered the possibility that Braeburn might like him in such a way. So now, he felt like a really big idiot, all the while thinking: ‘Ah crap, what now? What could I possibly do now? I don’t want to hurt the guy’s feelings… or… have I been doing that all along? Man, some guy I am.’

Soarin paused as he listens in to the music. His teacher was right; this really was a song of longing. He could hear from his friend’s violin that there was loneliness, uncertainty, but there was hope in the notes. The melody paints a kind of dream with sound that wishes that Soarin would somehow share those complex emotions, thoughts and life with him. Braeburn’s violin delivered a passion that Soarin had never heard of before. None of the girlfriends that came to mind had tried to flirt or woo him in the musical language that he was playing.

He peeked his head around, and his eyes went wide to see that where his friend’s eyes should be, he saw tears that soaked through the blindfold and trailed its way down his cheek. Yet, Braeburn still pressed on, playing out the flawless, dreamlike music to an imaginary him. At this point, Soarin softly stepped out, taking cautious steps to not interrupt such a performance for him.

Fortunately, Harmonic’s eyes were focused on the sheet music as his student played his heart out, seemingly unaware that there was a third person in the room at first.

Soarin stayed at a comfortable distance, memorized at what he was hearing. At one point, near the end of the song, Harmonic sensed that someone was behind him, and was almost startled out of his seat to find that his previous student was in the same room as they were. But as their teacher noted, Soarin’s expression was that of guilt, and not realizing that he’s being seen.

At the end of Braeburn’s song, Harmonic finished off his bit until the piano was quiet. The yellow student lowered his bow, “So,” he asked, “how’d Ah do?”

“That was really good,” at the sound of this third, familiar voice, the cowboy frozen, “I mean just… wow,” the voice added.

Quickly taking off his blindfold, Braeburn jumped a good twelve feet, “SOARIN!” he clenched at his instrument, “W-What are Y'all doin’ here…? No, scratch that, how long have ya been standin’ there?”

“I’ve… pretty much heard everything,” his friend confessed.

Braeburn took a quick glare at his teacher, “Hey, don’t look at me,” Harmonic lifted his hands, “I thought that he’d already left.”

“Um… Brae,” Soarin said, putting his hand over his neck, “Can we talk?”

His friend didn’t respond, their teacher, however, took this to go upstairs, leaving the two of them alone. Soarin sat on the couch and waved for him to sit. He did so, but only across from him.

There was an uncomfortable silence between the two of them before the blue athlete spoke, “So… How long has this been going?”

Braeburn shrugged, “Don’t know… Jr. High?” he said softly.

He sighed, “Brae, why didn’t you tell me? Did you think that I would be upset or something?”

“Aren’t ya?”

“Dude, no. Of course, I’m not mad at you or anything… it’s just that I’m stupid for not seeing this coming really.”

The apple farmer looked at the ground, “Soar… Ah’m… Ah’m so sorry.”

“For what? You just happen to like, like me. I know you can’t help it.”

“But… with you? How could Ah? Ah know there’s no chance you’d like me back. Knowin’ you, yer gonna find some girl that probably won’t appreciate you like me.”

“How’d you know?” Soarin asked, and this surprised him as this would be the first thought to come out of his mouth.

“Dude, yer straight. There’s no way it’ll work, even if we tried.”

Soarin placed a hand on his shoulder. “C’mon man, don’t be like that. Like I said, I’m not mad at ya. If anything… in a… weird sort of way, I’m flattered.” This got his friend to look up at him, “I-I mean, it’s an interesting thought that I was able enough to turn a guy on.”

"Dude!" Braeburn’s cheeks flushed at this comment.

His friend chucked, “What? Do you know how kinda cool it is that I’m good looking enough to even have you appreciate these good looks of mine.”

“It ain’t just about that,” Braeburn shook his head, “Soar, to me, you’re the kindest guy Ah know. You’re loyal, honest, and you laugh at things that Ah’m too scared to be laughin’ at. As a person who stays with me through better or worse, you stayed at mah side no matter what. You’ve accepted me when Ah came out to ya, stood up ta me against bullies back in Jr. High, and even in the darkest moments, Y'all somehow gives me a reason to smile.” He paused for a moment, “This is gettin’ cheesy, isn’t it?”

Soarin blinked, “Do I really mean that much to you?”

He sighed, “Actually… yeah, and much more. Soarin…. Ah…” at this point, he lifted his wrist to wipe away the tears swelling in his eyes. “Ah don’t wanna lose you. Ah wish that Ah could be given a chance ta show ya how much more you really deserve. Soar, none of yer girlfriends could see that you should to be treated like a god from all the joy you just give away. That yer not this good lookin’ guy that’s all looks and no personality. You have a voice that someone should listen, and whenever yer heart gets shattered, have someone to be there to put the pieces back.”

As Braeburn spoke, something in Soarin felt warm. He couldn’t explain it right away, but he could swear that his heart was beating slightly faster as his friend was complimenting him. ‘What is going on?’ He thought but shook it off as he said… well; he didn’t know what exactly to say.

But his friend continued, “To tell ya the truth… no… forget it.”

“What?”

The farmer shook his head, “You’d never agree to it.”

“To what?”

He looked up at him, “Ya know… sometimes Ah had thought about… datin’ ya.” Soarin’s eyebrow raised up, “Would kinda daydream what it might be like since you’ve gone to many of them, that Ah would wonder what it’ll be like to actually do it with someone you’d care about.”

“Would you go out with me?” this question caught both of them completely off guard, both for the reason that Soarin had those words coming out of his mouth without giving a second thought.

“What?”

The athlete cleared his throat, “I mean, why not? Grant it, I’ve never dated a dude before.”

Braeburn starred at him, “Are you bein’ serious right now?”

“Yeah man, I’m dead serious. If it were any other guy, I wouldn’t. But if it was you… I… guess I could give it a try.”

There was something in those jade eyes that somehow shown brighter than normal, “Soar… Ah… Ah don’t know what ta say!”

“How about a time and place?”

“Oh, right,” Braeburn laughed, “Uh… How about the Fourth of July? When they’re shootin’ off the fireworks and we’d see it on the farm?”

“Cool,” Soarin agreed, “And that’s what? Next Thursday?”

He nodded, “Soar, this is… well… thank you.”

“No problem buddy. I think it’s about time you’ve started dating, so what better way than somebody like me?”

The cowboy snorted, “And here Ah thought that Ah was the gay one.”

“Oh shut up,” Soarin playfully punched him in the shoulder. “Anyways, I guess I better start heading out.”

“Yeah,” Braeburn smiled, “See ya later.”

“You too.”

Cloudline started to bet up, and before he could head to the door, he heard Braeburn say, "Uh Soar?"

"Hm?"

The cowboy looked up at him with a genuine smile, "Thanks. Fer doin' this for me."

Soarin messed up his hair for a moment, "Like I've said, no prob. See ya on the fourth." And with that, the blue athlete walked out the door.

Pulling his cellphone out of his pocket, a thought accorded to him that gave the Wondercolt a moment to pause, ‘Wait… why did I just agreed to go out with Brae?’

Summer, 2nd Movement.

“Enjoy the show,” the tick-tacker said as he handed the tickets over to Lyra. “Drive over to your left, and remember to set your radio to 108.5 AM.”

“Sure thing,” the mint musician took the tickets. “Thanks a lot,” and with that, she pulled her car down the path to find a spot in the expansive dirt parking lot.

The dive-in theater was always a kind of tradition for the two, especially from Sweetie Drops, who introduced it to her girlfriend. While never crowded, there were a few cars about that were parked in front of the massive curved tin wall that has one side painted white. In the center of this dirt arena surrounded by shrubs was a small shack that housed the projector and the expensive snacks. This is why nearly everyone had smuggled in their homemade treats, even the teenage couple.

“Park over here,” Bon Bon pointed to an empty spot. Her girlfriend pulled over, trunk facing the screen. Once that was done and turning off the car, the two of them proceeded to set up for the show. While the Candy Maker took out their hidden goodies, Lyra opened the trunk to have the quilt blankets and pillows set up. She also set the radio near the edge of the trunk and to have it set on the right channel.

“All set,” she called out as she hopped to her spot while her girlfriend came around to place the big bowl between them, along with a couple of soda bottles. “This is gonna be good.”

“I’ve checked the reviews for this,” Bon Bon proceeded to open one of the sodas. “Apparently, it has mixed reviews. Because people can’t decide if it’s too clichéd or entertaining for being another superhero movie.”

Her girlfriend rolled her eyes, “Come on, you can’t rely on critic’s opinions all the time. So what if it’s a superhero movie?”

“Yeah, but think about it, this is gotta be… what? The fifteenth movie about a superhero this year? It’s not that I’m complaining, but can we at least see something new every once in a while?”

Lyra sighed, “Okay, point taken. But for now, let’s just enjoy the movie. Even if it sucks, at least we can still make fun of it.”

“True,” Bon Bon reached for another bottle to open it and give it to her.

Once the projector flickered to life, showing the trailer of other movies, Lyra turned the radio on. Amongst the noise and Technicolor images, the green teen said, “Hey Bonnie, can I ask ya something?”

“Sure.”

Lyra sat up a bit straighter from her seat, “What do you think you’re gonna do when we graduate?”

Her girlfriend raised an eyebrow, “What’d you mean?”

“Well, I’ve been thinking, what do you think is going to happen once we’re done with our senior year? Grant it, college comes to mind, but, what happens to our relationship then?”

Now it was Sweetie Drop’s turn to straighten up, “Lyra, you know that we won’t separate, what’s got you thinking this?”

“Remember when you told me about how to dream about going to Calvin Hill University?” the Candy Maker nodded, “Well… the thing is with me, I don’t think that neither I nor my family could afford to go to that kind of school except for the one college here.”

“Is that what’s got you worried over?”

Lyra shook her head, “It’s a little more than that. Bonnie, do you think that when you do move away to that new school, that you might… I don’t know… find somebody better… then me.”

Immediately, Bon Bon wrapped an arm over her, “Oh Lyra,” she kissed her on the cheek, “Do you really think that I would do that? I mean, you’ve heard from our doubles in that pony world that they’re married, right?”

“Y-Yeah,” she blushed, “But how do you know if they’re not facing a similar problem too? What if something is happening that might force them to separate for good?”

“But, what do you want me to do? Tell my parents not to send those applications so that I might not have a better future?”

The green musicians looked down, “Look, I’m not saying don’t follow your dreams. Of course, I want you to. I’m just afraid that you might… forget me.”

“What about texting,” Sweetie Drops suggested, “Or emails? Even if we don’t see each other, at least we’ll keep in touch.”

“But it won’t be the same,” Lyra shook her head. “I’d rather see you next to me then read off from a screen. Believe me, I really do want you to go to this university, (that is if you get accepted) but I wish I can come with you too. And the truth is… I… I don’t know what to do either.”

Both of them sat in silence as one trailer faded for the next one to begin.

“You know,” Bon Bon said, fluffing her pillow, “We practically have a whole year before that decision can be made.”

“True, but I’m just thinking ahead here,” Lyra lay back down. “Since this relationship is going so well that… I just don’t wanna end it.”

“Me nether,” She messed her girlfriend’s green hair a bit, “And I promise that we’ll think of something. Right now, I don’t want to sour the night over something like this. Let’s just have a good time watching the move, ‘kay?”

Lyra sighed, “Alright Bonnie, but sooner or later, we really need to talk about this. However,” By now, they start to notice the opening credits to appear on the screen, “Let’s just enjoy the moment.”

Bon Bon nodded as she too lay back on her pillow next to her. Lyra turned the volume up on the radio and reached in for one of the homemade treats to start snacking on. She felt her girlfriend wrap an arm around her, and the musician couldn’t help but lean in closer. For now, the two of them tuned out of their concerns and focused on the screen.

_*_

‘C’mon Soar, you really ought to relax,’ the athlete scolded himself. Being the Fourth of July, and the family barbecue has been taken care of, Soarin was now driving towards the hillside where Braeburn’s farm was. ‘You’ve been on dates before. Why should this be any different? Except that it’s your best friend… that happens to be a guy… that’s actually into ya…’

In truth, ever since that revelation in late June about what he found out about his best friend’s feelings for him, the Wondercolt had some mixed feelings over their upcoming date. On the one hand, he had no idea whatsoever what to expect. Since he never dated anyone who was the same gender as he was, he was completely clueless as to what would come out of this.

On the other, this was Braeburn he was going with. He knew him better to think that the apple farmer would do anything out of line, he wasn’t like that. Besides, it shouldn’t be too hard, right? If anything, dating your best friend should be the easiest thing in the world, especially since he already knew him.

But there was one thing that Soarin Cloudline had repeatedly asked himself, ‘Why did I ask him out for anyway?’ To him, driving down the familiar dirt road towards tonight’s date, it doesn’t make any sense. He had no reason to ask him out, but did he?

‘And even more importantly, why am I okay with this?’

He shook his head to clear it. ‘You’re just gonna watch the fireworks from his place, there’s nothing weird about that.’ Soarin mentally told himself, ‘Who knows, maybe this’ll be fun or…’

Before he could think any further, his car pulled up onto the property where lines of cars that were from out of town had already parked. There was the smell of fresh apples from the seemingly endless lines of trees, and the alluring sent of barbecue that drifted from behind the house. As the blue athlete got out of the car, he went around finding a good chunk of the Apple family there. Even though the sun was just setting, there were many that were still eating their late dinner.

All around on tables and fold-able chairs, plates of smoked, grilled, and seared meats that have either been dipped in a sauce or on a bun where next to chips, cookies, and endless cans of sodas. The backyard was lighted by grape lights that strew overhead like a drunken spider’s web.

“Soarin?” he turned his head to find one of the Apple family members. In all honesty, he had seen her before at school. She was blond with freckles that always had a Stetson on.

“Uh, Applejack, isn’t it?”

“What ya doin’ here for,” she asked. “Shouldn’t Y'all be with yer family at this time? The fireworks are about ta be going off soon.”

“Braeburn invited me,” he looked around the family gathering, “Speaking of which, have you seen him?”

Applejack shrugged, “Beats me, he’s been appearin’ and disappearin’ all day. Yer welcome ta have look around, but Ah’m not sure if Ah can help ya find ‘em.”

“Thanks.”

“And hey,” she added, “If ya wanna have a bite, go right ahead, we’ve still had plenty to go through anyways.”

Soarin thanked her and started wondering around Aunts and Uncles, kids and elderly, searching for Braeburn. He had to dodge some of the kids that were playing with lit sparklers while at other times he had to walk over chairs and benches in hopes that he doesn’t run into anyone.

“Soar?” then he heard a voice from behind him, “You’re a bit early.”

The athlete turned around to find the yellow cowboy, “There you are,” he hopped off the chair, “I’ve been looking for ya. How’s it been?”

“Other than just about had it with today, pretty good,” Braeburn headed towards the house, “Can you wait here for a sec, there’s somethin’ Ah need ta get first.” A moment later, his yellow friend emerged from the house with a tinny radio with a pocketful of batteries, “Follow me,” he said, and Soarin did.

They weaved around the cowboy’s relatives and went into the orchard up the hill. With each step, the voices of the Apple clan got softer until there was nothing but a mummer.

“So…” Braeburn spoke, “How’s yer Forth?”

“Eh, pretty much like last year's,” his friend said while still following him from behind, “Went to the parade this morning.”

“Oh, Ah haven’t gotten the chance ta see it this year. How was it?”

“Bad. I don’t think that whoever put the thing together knew what they were doing. There were huge gaps between each of the floats, the papers that told who was coming down in what order was useless, and none of the songs they’ve played were any good.”

“Didn’t stay too long Ah imagine?”

“I think everyone started to leave by the twenty-minute mark. Kids were crying, it was hot, and for being a long route, there was not a single good spot to sit down.” The Apple Farmer chuckled, to which Soarin inquired, “So what have you been doing?”

“Me? Ah’ve been keepin’ mahself busy, with helpin’ family and… this,” he looked back with a smile, “Ya know, this here is actually mah first real date.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Anyways,” he kept walking forward, “since the day you asked me out, Ah’ve been thinkin’ and rethinkin’ about what ta do exactly. But since it’s the Fourth of July, Ah think this’ll be easy ta set up. Tell me, Y'all haven’t eaten much, had ya?”

Soarin shrugged, “We had a big lunch with my family, but I don’t think I’ve only had eaten dinner myself yet, why?”

“Wait and see,” Braeburn grinned, “it ain’t too far from here now.”

Several hundred feet later, they came to a clearing where it offered a view of the town, and the twilight sky above. Underneath an apple tree, Soarin saw that at the base of that said tree was a quilt, two coolers, a box of matches, two plates, plastic silverware, two huge pillows (the kind one would find on a couch), and hanging from the branches of trees by threads of twine were lanterns made out of mason jars where each had a candle in it.

Soarin blinked, “Dude… you made all of this?”

“Ah know the homemade candle thing is a tad much,” Braeburn said, trying to hide his blush. “But it’ll give us some light befor’ the fireworks. But c’mon, let’s have some grub.”

“What did ya bring up here anyway?”

“Somethin’ Ah know you’d like.” The cowboy went up to one of the coolers and opened it up to remove something covered in tin foil.

Soarin set the thing down and unwrapped it, “Aw sweet!” He grinned at the apple pie.

“Hold on a sec,” Braeburn went to the other cooler, which was full of ice, cans of sodas and, “Here it is,” he held up a tub of ice cream.

“Man, you really have thought of everything, have ya?”

“Like Ah said, Ah know ya well enough what you like,” he said as he plopped down at one of the cushions. “Besides, Ah’m a bit tired myself. So let’s dig in already.”

“Let’s,” Soarin sat down next to him as they dished out their plates of warm pie and cold ice cream. The athlete scooped up a forkful of the tart treat, “I’m guessing that you baked this yourself?”

“Of course, wouldn’t be any good if it wasn’t homemade.”

“Can’t argue with that bro,” another bite went into his mouth. “This is good pie though.”

Braeburn sighed in relief, “Thanks.”

“You know, I’m kinda impressed Brae,” Soarin said between mouthfuls. “That you set all this up for me.”

“Why wouldn’t Ah?” the farmer told him. “After all, bein’ mah first date and all, just wanna make sure that this was special.”

His friend chuckled, “It’s kinda funny in a way, I never really pictured you to be the romantic type.”

“Me?” he said, raising an eyebrow, “Romantic?”

“Well, come on dude,” Soarin waved his hand, “all of this with a view of the fireworks, on a hill, beneath a tree that’ll have some candlelight, on a soft quilt, and eating my favorite dessert? I can see that you’ve put a lot of effort into this.”

Braeburn shrugged, “Just thought that it’ll be… nice, since you know… Ah’ve never really gone out with anyone befor’.”

“Still,” the Wondercolt said after taken another bit of ice cream into his mouth. “All of this incredible that you’re doing this for me. Usually, it’s the other way around.”

“What ya mean by that?”

“When I go on dates, usually it’s me that does all the spoiling. Like, remember the time that I was dating… what was her name again? She was one that has a job at that flower shop, but you know who I’m talking about right?” his friend nodded, “Anyway, I remembered that I had to come up with what we’ll be doing. I mean, I went out to get some flowers, pick out where to eat and all that. She on the other hand just had to be concerned about what she looked like.”

“Wasn’t she the one whom you showed up to her doorstep and she fainted because one of the flowers was out of line?”

Soarin chuckled, “I can still recall what she said before she did. ‘The horror! The horror! One of the daisies is crooked!’” Both of them laughed for a bit, “Still, my point stands that I’ve never been at the receiving end where somebody treats me out.”

Braeburn's smile faded, “That’s kinda sad ta hear,” his friend asked why he thought so. “Because it’s kinda unfair ain’t it? That you’re the one that puts up somethin’ that shows how much you like someone, but they don’t do the same back.”

“Oh… I see,” the athlete looked away.

“Mind if Ah change the subject?” his friend asked, “When Ah told ya about… how Ah felt about ya, and you’d suddenly asked me out, why did you?”

“Uh… about that…” Soarin rubbed his neck, “Brae, mind if I tell you something?” he nodded, “Truth is… I don’t know. I have no idea why I did to begin with. It’s really weird, I know, even I’m still trying to figure out. But if I… had to take a guess-”

“Was it because you felt sorry fer me?” the apple cowboy interrupted.

“Um… kinda, but that wasn’t it,” Braeburn tilted his head, but his friend continued, “Please don’t tell anyone this but… whenever I looked back to what happened that day, the only thing I was really thinking at the time was… curiosity.”

“Ah don’t follow.”

“Thinking back to all those dates that crashed and burned, I wondered if there was something I was doing wrong, or maybe there was something that I overlooked. So ever since I asked you out, I’ve been thinking why too. At the time, it was as if the most natural thing in the world, ya know? For some reason, the whole idea of going on this date with ya… I was okay with it, but I don’t know why. I guess, what I’m trying to say is-”

“Hold on,” Braeburn's eyes widen, “Soar, yer not sayin’ that you're… are you?”

Neither of them spoke as the sun had set behind the horizon. The cowboy was about to speak when his friend broke the silence. “I… I don’t know. And I’m uncertain that I want to.”

“Why?”

“Because think about it. What if I’m not? Brae, I don’t want to hurt your feelings if I don’t feel the same way too.”

“And… if you are?”

“But how can I?” Soarin questioned, “I like girls, dude.”

“Still, Y'all haven’t answered my question.”

He sighed, “I don’t know man, wouldn’t it be… weird?”

“Weird how?”

“Like, say that I did like you back, how would that even work? Are there some rules for this?”

“Last Ah checked,” Braeburn leaned over to the cooler to pull out a soda. “Relationships are about workin’ together. Soar, Ah’ll say this, that even if you don’t really, like, like me back, it won’t be the end of the world because you said no. But if ya did…” here, he gave a small smile, “Oh what joy would that be if ya did. People would say that it won’t be anythin’ resembling traditional, but you’d know what? Ah would rather be happy above anythin’ else, and ta share it with ya. Soda?”

Soarin nodded after his friend handed him a soda, he added, “Yeah, I guess I need some time to think this over.”

“We’d got all summer. And besides, if this is really botherin’ ya that much, Ah know that Mr. H will help clear things up if ya ask.”

The athlete gave him a puzzling look, “Mr. H? As in the music teacher?”

“Yeah, don’t ya know? He’s gay too.”

Soarin blinked. “He is?”

Braeburn nodded, “Yep, his husband passed away months ago. He’s been mighty helpful ta me when it comes to advising. So if Ah were you, Ah probably go ask ‘em about it.” He then pulled out his phone, “Well, looks like it’s nearly time – wanna help me light these candles so we’d get some light?”

His friend got up, “Sure, I’ve gotten better using my wings that the other me had taught me.”

“Good, now take these,” Braeburn tossed him a box of matches, “If Y'all could get up to the higher ones and light those first, that’ll be appreciated.”

“Give me a sec,” Soarin closed his eyes and crouched to the ground before he sprang upward. As he did, blue wings appeared on his back in a blue light before they took physical form and began flapping. Soarin flew up to the mason jars that had the candles in them and went up to the highest one. Lighting a match, he lit these homemade lanterns one at a time.

Soon, the soft glow from these simple lanterns gave light to the tree, and the yellow farmer turned on the radio for the right channel. A pop song or two later, over the town by the river, long lines of light streamed upward and exploded with bright colors, “It’s started!” he said.

Soarin finished with the last few candles and plopped down right next to Braeburn as bright reds, stunning whites, and icy blues lit up the sky over the town.

_*_

“And your total is Seven-fifty,” the cashier said after ringing up the cash register.

“Thanks,” Harmonic pulled out a ten out of his wallet and gave it to the cashier for an exchange of a cup of hot chocolate and a bagel. By the time the young lady had given back his change, the Violinist chooses a spot at the Copper Pot Café, a seat by the window.

It was still morning, and judging by the lack of traffic from the window, it was going to be a pretty slow day. Or was it because it was raining?

‘Oh well,’ he shrugged and took a bite of his bagel, ‘At least a few of my students have canceled their lessons today. Maybe I could probably see a movie or something today. Perhaps call up Script sometimes ta see how he’s doing.’

The music teacher scanned whatever forms of life that dared ventured through the rain. A few cars passed by and even few had walked by. Then, he spotted one of his students with his hoodie up. He could easily tell it was Soarin because of the trademark thunderbolt on him.

His student noticed him too and paused. Even without the rain, Harmonic could tell that his student had something heavy on his mind – especially when the athlete looked between him and down the street as if he was trying to decide on something. A minute later, it seemed that Soarin had made up his mind and went into the café.

“Hey, there uh… Mr. H,” his student said as he walked up to his table.

“Morning,” Harmonic took a sip, “Did you need something?”

“Well… yeah. Mind if I sit?” his teacher didn’t mind so he took a seat across from him. “Since you’re here, I thought I should probably talk to ya.”

“About what?”

Soarin rubbed the back of his neck, looking around to make sure that he wasn’t being heard, “Do ya remember about what happened a while ago, with Braeburn?”

Harmonic raised an eyebrow, “I do, and if I recall correctly, the two of you agreed on a date, right?” he nodded, “How did it go by the way?”

“Surprisingly good… I-I guess.”

There was a pause between them while the Violinist sipped his cup, “And?”

“Well… ya see Mr. H, even before the whole… date, thing, I’ve been having weird thoughts.”

“About Mr. Apple?”

Soarin nodded, giving a small blush, “Kinda. But that’s the thing, up until then, I haven’t given much thought about it, even when Brae came out to me. But now, after the date… I… I wanted more, but I can’t figure out why.”

Harmonic raised an eyebrow, “So why are you coming to me with this for?”

“Brae mentioned that your spouse was a… a guy. And he said that you’ve been helping him out, so… I guess I’m just lookin’ for some advice here.”

‘When did I go from being an Orchestra teacher to an Agony Aunt?’ the Violinist thought. “And what advice is that?”

Soarin looked around once more, “I guess I should get straight to the point, huh? Maybe I should, but it might take a while.”

His teacher looked at the clock on the wall, “I’ve got time.”

“Right,” Cloudline took a moment to collect himself before asking, “Mr. H, am I gay?”

He blinked, “Sorry?”

Soarin’s blushed intensified, “I mean… with all the dates that I’ve been on, (all girls by-the-way) is it possible that I might be into guys but hasn’t realized it until now?”

“Oh boy,” Harmonic sighed, out of all the things he expected out of this morning, this wasn’t the kind of conversation he had in mind. “First of all, you do realize you’re talking about attraction, right?”

“I… guess so.”

“Okay, since we are going to have this conversation, tell me, what’s so different between your past dates and this one?” Soarin was about to open his mouth but his teacher quickly added, “Except what gender that Braeburn happens to be.”

“Well… are we talking about physical attraction?”

His teacher shrugged, “I suppose anything that you might find appealing, but it's a start.”

“Oh…” the blue athlete leaned back in his seat in thought. “Since you put it that way… physically, my dates were pretty and all. Even sometimes I would stair a bit, you know? Some of the girls at school aren’t too bad looking either.”

“And Braeburn?”

“Well… compare with them other than he’s… a he. Brae’s much more athletic than he gives himself credit for, but maybe that’s because he’s been on the farm since the start. Of course, he has this western look with the messy hair and that stupid vest.” Soarin gave a small smile, “Anyway, he’s one of those guys who I can easily go up against, he may not had been in sports for a while, sure, but the guy can easily be on the Wondercolts team if he wanted to.”

“What about personality traits?” Harmonic asked, taking a sip of his cup of hot chocolate.

“With the girls, I’ve been dating, most of them were nice. They laughed at my jokes and the stories I would tell about Ms. Spitfire. With some of them, we there were a few interests that they were into like certain rock bands, or what movies we liked or hated, things like that.

“But with Brae, heck, he’s already my best friend. I’ve known him for quite a while now. He’s incredibly loyal; he’s a bit of a goofball whenever anybody visits his farm but never to the point where he gets overly annoying. And from our little date on the Fourth, he’s dedicated to taking the time and effort so that we might have a good time together. He’s concerned about if I’m overall happy, and he tries to help out whenever he can.”

Harmonic nodded, “To be honest Soarin, from what you’ve told me, all I can say is that if you are gay or swing both ways, that there I can’t say. It’s not my job to tell you what your orientation should be, because sexuality is complicated for everyone. However, by the sound of it, you are fond of Braeburn Apple, much in the same way as he is for you. Where you want to take this is up to you. If you want to have a second date with him to see where this’ll lead, go ahead. And if you just want to remain as best of friends, go ahead. For the best advice I can give is follow your happiness and see where it leads you. Does that make any sense?”

Soarin put a hand under his chin, “I think so. I guess I still have some thinking to do.”

His teacher nodded, “Fair enough, oh and Soarin?”

“Yeah?”

“Be sure to work on your rhythm.”

_*_

“Okay, Ms. Heartstrings,” Harmonic said, “Let’s do this one more time, and remember to keep an eye out for those key shifts.”

Lyra nodded, “Sure thing. I think I’ve about got it this time.”

“You’re doing great,” Bon Bon told her from the couch.

“Now,” their teacher leaned on the piano. “From the beginning.”

The green young lady stretched her fingers out for a moment before putting them in the right position. Taking a moment, she glanced over at the music sheet once more at the dreamlike notes before looking over to her girlfriend who had a reassuring smile.

Returning to her harp, she plucked the first few notes of that Impressionist piece. Her mind thought of everything nocturnal. Of bright moons and tinny stars that gleamed behind the swirling deep violet and royal blue sky. Touches of deep emerald greens streaked across the sky as it too weaved among the colors of white, yellow and red stairs and tossed in a wind of light blue, white and Dijon yellows.

Then in her mind’s eye, there was her Bon Bon, holding her hand as they stargazed. Even in this unique light, she saw colors on her that she’d never noticed before. Her hair had different shades of blue and light purple, and the other part was a crimson that had swirling lines of pink, white, and light reds that curled, sifted and tumbled like water. Her face held many shades of pale creams and light eggshells that helped made her royal blue eyes popped. But there was that smile, it was simple lines of pink and orange, but it was warm like a summer’s night.

Even when she opened her eyes at the real Sweetie Drops, the only word that came to mind was beautiful, just as the music was.

Lyra’s hands plucked up and down the higher and lower notes, making each daydreaming note more real as she went on. Harmonic noted that her eyes opened and closed every so often, like how an artist would capture an image and put it down on a canvas.

‘Almost in the way that he would do it,’ Harmonic thought but shook the thought from him.

Eventually, Lyra finished playing and her girlfriend applauded, “Beautiful,” Bon Bon said.

“Better,” their teacher said, “Much, much better.” The Violinist looked at the clock, “And right on time too. Lyra, make sure you keep practicing that until recitals next month, whatever you did to make it sound like that, try to keep it in mind every time you play it.”

“Yes Mr. H,” the Harpist saluted as her girlfriend got up with the music sheet in her hands.

Sweetie Drops sat down next to her teacher and opened up her music.

“So, Ms. Drops,” Harmonic said, “How are you getting along with your piece?”

“I’m okay with it,” she opened up the lid to the keys. “Although, I did get a bit distracted on the Fourth since, you know, it was a holiday.”

“I see.”

“By the way how was your Fourth?”

Harmonic shrugged, “It was fine, although technically it’s not really my holiday.”

This got both of the couple’s attention, “What ya mean?” Lyra asked.

“Because, strictly speaking, Independence Day is a holiday that I was introduced to, not born with since, I wasn’t born in America.”

“Where you’re from?” Sweetie inquired.

“Have either of you ever heard of a Province called Cremona?” they shook their heads, “It’s in northern Italy where until I was… seven I think, was where I lived.”

“So you’re Italian?”

He shrugged, “More like Italian American, but yes.”

“Do you remember what it’s like in Italy?” Lyra leaned forward. “I’ve heard it’s really pretty over there.”

“By pretty you mean living close to the cold Apes by a forest, then yes. But, truth be told, as a kid, I never really liked it there.”

“How come?” they both asked.

The Violinist sighed, “Growing up there, the children and I didn’t really get along. There wasn’t a memory other than my parents what you might consider to be kind. In other words, I got picked on a lot.”

“How come?” Bon Bon asked.

Harmonic answered by raising his long, thin hand, “It’s my hands you see. I was born with something called ‘Marfan syndrome,’ which coincidentally is the exact condition that Niccolò Paganini had. And one of those symptoms is that I would grow unusually tall, that even my fingers and toes would grow very long, almost spider-like. I guess that it’s because of this that I’m able to play the violin so well. In fact, my parents saw this as a blessing because my dad made violins himself, and I was the perfect one to test every new instrument.”

“So, how come you guys moved here?”

Another sigh, “When I was seven, there was a fire that broke out in our workshop, that not only destroyed it but our home which was on top of it. We were able to get out while taking our most important possessions, however, the village suspected that…” Then, Harmonic’s expression hardened when he said under his breath, “Il ragno aveva fissato la fiamma dell'inferno sulla sua casa!”

“What?” Lyra asked and their teacher took a deep breath.

“Basically they thought that I was the one who caused the fire. And it’s this point that my parents had enough. We took whatever we had left and moved here, to America for a fresh start.” Harmonic gave a sad laugh, “I tend to think that we were like Gypsies at the time when we were traveling from place to place. But I’m afraid I’m getting off topic.”

“Hold on, if your parents came here with you, where are they now?”

Harmonic frowned, “Ms. Heartstrings, let’s just say that I and my parents had some disagreements and put it like that.”

Both of the teenage girls glanced at each other, agreeing that they should probably stop now before they get too deep into something personal.

“Anyways,” their teacher said after clearing his throat, “How about we hear about that piece of yours, Ms. Drops.”

_*_

Braeburn whipped the sweat off his brow, all morning he had been pruning the trees of the water spouts off of the trees. He’s been climbing up and down each and every tree with a pair of sharpens sheers to cut the branches that pointed straight upward.

It was then that he felt his phone vibrate along with a ring. Putting the sheers over his neck like a yoke, he reached in his pocket to find that he got a text.

That said text was from Soarin.

‘Hey,’ it said, ‘how’s it going?’

Wanting to take a break, he replied, ‘Helpin’ with the farm. Why?’

A minute later, he got his answer, ‘I just had a ton on my mind lately.’

‘Is it about the date?’

‘Yeah… I know I haven’t talked to ya much, sorry about that.’

‘Nah, you’re good. So what’s on your mind?’

For several minutes, Braeburn got nothing on the other end. But before he was about to put his phone back in his pocket, it rang.

‘U see, I’ve been wondering if I’m gay or not because… I’ve been thinking a lot about ya and I still don’t know why. But I had a talk with Mr. H some time ago about it. And he’d helped me about where we go from here.’

The cowboy’s heart sank when he read it, ‘Oh… and what‘s that?’

‘Brae… do ya… want to go out again sometime?’

He couldn’t believe what he was reading. Braeburn had reread it several times to make sure that not the light, nor were his eyes playing tricks on him.

‘For real?’

‘Yeah. I guess it’s only fair that I treat U out and all.’

The young farmer could feel his heart skip a beat. With a mile long smile, he texted back, ‘Of course I’ll go out with ya! When and where?’

‘How about next Saturday, I still need to figure out the rest, but I’ll keep in touch.’

‘Soarin, thank you. Thank you so much!’

‘No problem man. See ya.’

‘U 2,’ with that, after putting his phone back, he looked around the orchard to make sure he was alone before he hollered for joy.

Author's Note

Just a heads up, I'm going on vacation here. Beginning on the 20th, I'll be gone for two weeks for Christmas. I'll check in on this site, but I won't be able to update for a while.

I apologize for the inconvenience.

Summer, 3rd Movement.

“So it’s true that you’ve settled on a date?” Script’s dad asked before he sipped some soda from across the counter.

“Yeah,” the writer opened the old white oven and peaked in on the pizza inside. “Page and I were thinking December, about a week or so before Christmas.”

“Of course,” his fiancé took out some Parmesan and a few green bell peppers from the fridge. “We wanted to make it small for the wedding itself, but we’re planning on going somewhere big after the party.”

“Oh, and where are you two thinking of going?” Harmonic inquired as his eyes looked around the interior of his son’s small, modest, but a little too plain home. Nearly everything about this place was standard at best from the microwave, stove-top oven, fridge, and even the wooden cabinets were a few decades old. The linoleum cream floor was bland; the ceiling light had the same pale neon light fixtures that he usually sees at the school. If it wasn’t for a handful of his husband’s oil and acrylic paintings, he would sum up the whole house as dull.

Script and Page looked over to each other with a knowing smile, “We’re thinking of going to New York,” she said. “I’ve always wanted to see Manhattan for myself since I’ve never been there.”

“And I haven’t been there since I was a kid when we went there for a vacation once,” his son said with nostalgic, “You remember that, right dad?”

His father nodded, “I do. Never a gray moment if you knew where to look. Besides, I’ve played in a few concert halls myself a few times.”

“Like Carnegie Hall?” the soon to be teacher asked and her future father-in-law confirmed it.

“Not bad acoustics if I do say myself. Say Script, how’s that pizza coming along?”

“It’s not ready, I’ll let it brown up a bit more before we eat.”

“Fair enough,” Harmonic took another sip from his soda. “So what about the wedding itself, any plans yet?”

“To be honest dad, we’ve been debating on what exactly to do,” his son confessed, “Page said we should go down to the courthouse and we just pay up, sign our license and we’re done. I, however, was thinking about the whole ceremony route with the priest, the saying vows and such.”

“But it’s so expensive,” his fiancé pointed out, “even if we did that, we would probably be bankrupted by the time we get to New York. We don’t have that kind of money for that even if we wanted it.”

“Have either of you considered a third option,” Harmonic spoke up.

“What's the third option?” the couple asked in unison.

Script’s dad shrugged, “Well, I have retired after all, and I still have a good deal of money in the bank-”

“Dad,” his son cut him off, “We’ve been over this, and you don’t have to spend on me with the money that you’ve earned.”

“But this is different.”

“I’ve already said that we wanted to prove that we can live on our own financially.”

“Now hold on, hear me out, I’m not talking about that,” Harmonic clarified, “I was rather thinking about lending a helping hand to your guy's wedding.”

This got their attention, so Page asked, “What do you mean?”

“I mean, that if both of you want, I can withdraw a certain amount to give you two the wedding of your dreams. You said that you’re planning it in December so why not I pitch in to make it Christmas themed with the tree and the presents or whatever. Plus, I don’t really mind since I’m well off as it is. Heck, consider this as a wedding gift in and of itself! So whatever it takes to see you two happy, I would do so gladly. All you need to do is ask.”

Both Script and Page turned to each other, “What do you think hon?” the writer asked.

His future wife looked uncertain, “But, don’t we have to pay you back?”

The Violinist shook his head, “There’s no need to worry about me. I’m offering my hand to help you, and I don’t ever expect something in return. What’s important is finding out what you guys want for your wedding, and make it into a reality. So what do ya say?”

Before either one could respond, the timer went off, signaling that the homemade pizza is ready. Once the Italian pie was out of the oven an onto a metal pan where it cooked, Script was the first to say, “Are you sure about this dad?”

He nodded.

“Wow,” Page said, “I mean, really. Here I thought that our wedding is going to be on a budget but now… this really opens up a lot of doors for us. It’s kinda overwhelming the more I think of it that… I’m not sure what to do.”

“That’s dad for ya,” Script said, opening a drawer to grab the pizza cutter. “With him, it’s like wining the golden ticket every day.”

“So… Do you guys want my help or not?” his dad asked.

“Well… maybe on a few things here and there.”

Harmonic chuckled, “Oh yes, you’ll only need just a few things from a wedding after all.”

“I think that’s enough about talking about us,” Page piped up, getting out some plates. “What about you, anything new with you lately?”

“A few things,” he said as his son started to cut the slices, “such as my students have improved their musical skills. We’re having recitals at my house a week before school kicks in. Oh! And there is a pair of my students that have been going out for the past month or so.”

“Really?” Script questioned, “How’d you know?”

“Funny story, one of my students (I will not say who) had a crush on another student but was scared of telling. However, during one session, where this student was learning to play a song on the violin, I had them visualize about their special someone and play for them as if they’re there. What I didn’t know was that very student who had a crush on, was there and overheard everything. So after confronting him, they end up agreeing to start dating and have been doing so ever since.”

“Awe, that’s so sweet,” Page cooed.

“Of course, both of them have come to me for advice every now and then,” Harmonic added. “Besides, they seem to be getting along just fine.”

“Here dad,” Script offered his father a slice of pizza, in which he presented him his plate.

_*_

“Alright, how ‘bout this?” Braeburn asked, “Would ya rather have Spitfire have ya do a thousand push-ups, or go through your worst date all over again?”

Soarin thought for a moment as he licked his ice cream. Sitting on a bench facing the town’s river, the two friends had not only increased their, “hangouts” a bit more, but they have grown closer as well. To the athlete, being on these dates with his best friend somewhat made him wish that he had tried this sooner. As to the farmer, no matter what they did, like having Soarin lend a helpful hand on the farm, watch a movie, play video games, or simply eating ice cream as the sun was setting, it just was another day in heaven.

“That’s a tough one,” his blue friend said aloud. “You’re asking if I want to be completely tired out by Ms. Ex-Drill Sargent or go on my first date with Sunset…” he hummed for a moment, “I’d probably go with the push-ups.”

“And why’s that?” the cowboy smirked.

“No reason,” Soarin shrugged. “One of them is a control freak that has experience in getting anybody to do what she wants, that would gladly point out your faults in why you’re not worth the dirt on her shoes, and the other is Spitfire.”

Braeburn guffawed yet covered his mouth at the shock at what he just heard, “That’s terrible!”

“Hey, you said ‘go through my worst date all over again.’ So who really wants to go out with a person like that?”

“Ah thought that Sunset gal had changed, didn’t she?”

He nodded, taking another lick at his cone, “Sure, she’s a whole lot better now, but I had gone out with her before she turned into that demon thing at the Fall Formal. As I recalled, she dumped me the next day for that Brad guy.”

“Oh, that makes sense,” the yellow Apple went on taking a few more bites out his ice cream bar. “Okay, now yer turn.”

Soarin leaned back in thought, “Mind if I ask you a personal question?”

“Go on.”

“I know that you’re still in the closet here, so… does anyone in your family know what you’re into?”

Braeburn frowned, “No, not really. ‘xcept fer mah cousins AJ and Applebloom, nobody knows.”

“So, why them?”

“Fer one, Applebloom thinks that she might be into one of her best friends, a girl mind ya. And Applejack is probably the most open-minded of the Apples that Ah know. As to everyone else…” he trailed off, taking another small bite of his icy treat. “Ah’ve really have no idea, and that’s what scares me. We’re all for traditions that work, or rather, that serve somethin’ practical. It’s not that we don’t embrace anythin’ new, but only if it makes a lick of sense ta us. Plus, the whole topic of anythin’ gay is never mentioned at all in conversation. So really, Ah have no idea how they’ll react if they’d knew. Kinda makes me feel like Ah'm playin' Russian roulette whenever Ah approach anybody with this secret.”

Soarin Cloudline placed a hand over his shoulder, “C’mon man, it can’t be all that bad?”

“Ah’m not sayin’ it’s bad, it’s just that Ah don’t know,” the farmer clarified, “Besides, Ah can’t really ask anyone, even mah parents about it, it’ll raise too many questions and Ah know it.”

“But dude, don’t ya think you might be worrying about this a little too much?”

“Mah dad has a-sayin', ‘Never gamble if you don’t know what the odds are.’ Especially fer me when the risks outweigh the benefits. Ah mean, think about it, what would happen if Ah did come out to mah folks, and they don’t wanna have anythin’ ta do with me anymore?”

Soarin raised an eyebrow, “Do you really think they’ll do that?”

Braeburn deadpanned, “You'll haven’t read the news lately, have ya? Ah have read up on stories of folks that had their own family kicked them out of their homes or left them on the streets because they don’t wanna have anythin’ ta do with their kids who happen ta be gay. Not jus’ that, but beatings, rapes, and even send to camps ta change them by methods that don’t even work. And these are people like me, with families similar ta mine. Can ya see why Ah wouldn’t be so willin’ ta come out to them?”

The blue athlete let his words sink in, “Man that really sucks when you put it like that.”

The cowboy snorted, “That’s nothin’ compared ta school, especially from the students there.”

“How’s it worst?”

“Have ya ever noticed that over there that people like… (let me jus’ pick someone at random,) Lyra and Bon Bon are together that nobody makes any complaint about it? Those fellas especially don’t mind it at all because they think it’s hot, you know what Ah mean?”

He nodded, “Yeah, I think I get what you’re saying. I mean, who doesn’t like lesbians?”

“But that’s mah point,” Braeburn went on, “whereas, for people like me who are gay, the students there think it’s… somehow a bad thing? Ah guess you’ve heard it in locker rooms too that you’ll hear things like, ‘That’s so gay,’ or ‘That shirt makes ya look, gay dude,’ or ‘No, yer gay!’ things like that, as if it’s disgusting but have no reason fer why.”

Although Soarin didn’t want to admit it out loud, it was common to hear coming from his own teammates.

“Ah mean, Ah can’t be the only one that looks at this and doesn’t think that it’s a bit… hypocritical? That apparently it’s okay if you’re gay as long as if you’re a girl?”

The athlete opened his mouth, trying to find something to say. But all he could come up with is, “…. Okay, you’ve got a point.”

Braeburn sighed, “Ah know, it just really… unfair.”

“Hey, just because it’s all unfair, doesn’t mean that it has to be.”

“But how? How do ya make it fair when everythin’ isn’t?”

Soarin thought for a moment, listening to the chirping songs of birds and the passing of cars before he responded with, “I’ve heard somewhere, I don’t know who said it that, ‘The only way for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing.’” He used his free hand to mess up further of Braeburn’s hair, “And I promise you this buddy, as long as I’m around, I’ll always be there to make the world fair for the both of us.”

Braeburn smiled, “That’s really sweet of ya.”

“What can I say,” he shrugged, “I try, don’t I?”

The farmer chuckled, “Do me a favor and don’t ever change.”

“I make no promises,” Soarin gave a sly grin.

His yellow friend leaned into him, “Anyways, thanks fer takin’ me out again.”

“No problem dude. I actually do like having ya around. Speaking of which, I think it’s your turn to take me out.”

“Ah know,” Braeburn nodded as he finished off his ice cream bar. “What do ya think you wanna do? Ah’m kinda runnin’ out of ideas here.”

“When’s the last time we went swimming?”

“Too long Ah guess… maybe since senior year of Jr. High maybe? Ah don’t know, but Ah suppose swimming sounds good ta me.”

_*_

In a way, Sweetie Drops actually liked her little part-time job. What’s there not to love? She assists making candy; learn recipes to these delights by heart, and sets up the local candy shop that even Willy Wonka would approve. Sure, the little store isn’t as big or as famous as Sugar Cube Corner, but at least it’s a lay back work environment that she could easily work in.

Although, it’s not that she doesn’t have any complaints about it herself. There were times where nosy kids would come in, demanding their parents to buy everything in sight while throwing a fit at it. Or the customers that take a years’ worth to decide what they want to buy. But she only has to deal with the customers if she was called to look after the cash register.

“Hey, Bon’s,” the voice of her boss stick her head in the back room where they made all the candy. “We need ya at the register.”

She grunted silently as she put away the liquorish, “Coming Ms. Toffee,” she called back as she made her way towards the front of the store. There were a few people who were wondering around in the tinny store that was looking through the glass jars, the trays of truffles and bars, and the rows of lollipops. Yet, there was still a line to the cash register which she went up to it.

“Welcome to the Candy Corn, what can I help you with?” she asked every customer in line as she helped buy their sweets by weighing them, looking through the chart by the pound, ringing up the total and repeat.

The last one from the end of the line came up, by now, the store has fewer people around. Yet, this particular customer, Bon Bon could have sworn that she’d saw him before somewhere.

“Hi there,” he said. “Ah was hopin’ if you could help me.” The customer in question was around the same age as she was, yellow with orange blond hair. In one hand was a Stetson while the other was his wallet.

“Sure thing, what ‘ja need?”

“W-Well,” he stuttered, “could Y'all help me chosen’ a box of chocolates since Ah’ve never done anythin’ like this befor’.”

“I’m guessing that you want to customize it?” Sweetie Drops asked and he nodded. She pointed at the glass counter that held the lines of fudge, chocolates and other treats. “Just choose some of these and I’ll put them in a box. Speaking of which, what’s it for if I may ask?”

“It’s uh…” he looked behind him, “A surprise fer a date that’s comin’ up.”

“Awe, that’s sweet. So do ya want me to get out the heart-shaped boxes or the regular ones?”

Her customer thought for a moment before deciding, “Go with the regular, a medium one if ya have any.”

“Got it,” Bon Bon reached underneath the counter and took out the box, “This one holds twenty-two pieces. Which, by the way, should be about twenty-five give or take, so with that in mind, let’s get down to choosing, shall we?”

While her customer looked around and narrow down his choices, Sweetie Drops asked, “You go to Canterlot High, don’t ya?”

“Huh?” he looked up. “Uh yeah, why’d you ask?”

“You just looked familiar to me, what’s your name?”

“Name’s Braeburn.”

‘Why does that ring a bell?’ she thought while grabbing the tinny tongs. “Again, I think I might have seen you somewhere from before. Do you know me?”

The cowboy tilted his head, “Come ta think of it, yer face is familiar ta me. Were y’all in Mr. H’s Orchestra class?”

She snapped her fingers, “Oh! No wonder why I’ve seen you somewhere before! You play the violin, don’t ya?”

He nodded, “Well yeah, Ah do.”

“So anyway, let’s get back to business. So, what it’ll be?”

“Oh…” Braeburn looked around the glass case once more. “Let’s start with those, those milk chocolate pretzels with the white chocolate drizzle. Then a couple of those apple bon bons, those caramels there… then uh…”

While her customer trailed off, she opened the plastic panels to pick up the listed items into the box. But when he stopped, Sweetie Drops looked up and asked, “Anything else.”

“Sorry, Ah’m jus’ thinkin’.”

“So who is it?”

“Pardon?”

“Your date, must be pretty special if you’re getting all of this, huh?”

Braeburn’s cheeks took on a light pinkish tint in color. “Well… somethin’ like that.”

“Anybody from school?”

He nodded.

“Maybe I can help?” the cowboy looked up, asking what she was talking about. “I tend to socialize with those from school, you know, trying to make friends and all. Perhaps, if I know who your girlfriend is, maybe I can narrow down and pick out what she’ll like.”

Braeburn froze as if he was caught doing something taboo. “Uh… T-That’s kind of ya and a-all. But Ah think Ah can jus’ do it on mah own.”

“Oh come on, do tell,” She pleaded, “This will go a whole lot faster if let me know who.”

“Look, the thing is… Ah, can’t.”

Bon Bon was taken aback at this, “You can’t?”

“W-We’ve just gone out fer a month or so,” Braeburn admitted, “It ain’t anythin’ too serious.”

“I wasn’t asking that, I was asking why you can’t tell me who you’re dating.”

“Ma’am Ah can’t tell ya since he doesn’t-”

“He?”

The cowboy’s eyes opened wide at the mistake he just made. “U-Uh…” he looked around the shop to make sure that nobody else was listening before returning his attention to the candy maker.

“Well, that’s a first,” she grinned, “again, is it anybody I know?” Braeburn stared back at her, “What?”

“Yer… Yer not upset? At all?”

“Why would I? It’s not weird to get some candy for your sweetheart.”

“That ain’t what Ah meant,” he shook his head, “Ah mean that you’re fine that Ah has…”

“A boyfriend?” Bon Bon completed his sentence. “Nah, not really, I have a fantastic girlfriend myself.”

“Oh…” he rubbed the back of his neck, completely embarrassed.

“You’re fine,” she waved it off, “So come on, who is it?”

The farmer looked around, “Promise you won’t tell anyone else?”

“You want me to do the Pinkie Promise while I’m at it?”

He thought for a moment, “Why yes, that would help.”

She rolled her eyes, “Crossed my heart, hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye. Okay, so who is it?”

Braeburn leaned over the counter and waved his hand for her to lean over to whisper his name.

“Oh really! I never expected h-”

“Yes yes yes,” he said quickly, “So can ya help or not?”

She put a finger underneath her chin, “I think I have a general idea. I’ve met him a few times and asked him what kind of candy he likes. So yeah, give me a sec.” Up and down the glass counter she went, picking out chocolates and truffles, dipped treats and sugary delights until the box was full.

After weighing it, Sweetie Drops rang up the total cost and Braeburn paid for it. “Come back again soon,” she said, “If ya needed anything else for your sweet tooth or your sweetheart,” she winked.

He blushed, rushed out with an awkward, “Thank ya,” and quickly left while ringing the bell overhead.

_*_

On the day of the recital, chairs have been set up in the living room where Harmonic’s students and parents were crammed in. Space where the performance was being held, in front of the fireplace, was already occupied with the piano, a harp, and the drum set that was moved from the garage. At the opposite end of the room in the hallway, black cases of other student’s instruments were lined up along the walls where strings, brass, and winds were already have been taken out.

The music teacher himself stood at the center of this controlled chaos while the parents and their kids talked among themselves and each other. Some of them held onto copies of the order in which the students were supposed to perform. He could see on the students’ faces and the way they held their instruments that some of them were quite nervous while others were trying to remember what notes needed playing.

Some of them had come up to him to make sure that their instruments were tuned from the few that had strings. While he did this, he saw from the window his son and his fiancé walking across the lawn and through the front door. He silently greeted them with a nod and a wave as they took their spot leaning against the wall.

A few minutes to go, there were a few missing students that had arrived, if not out of breath, “Am I late?”

“No Ms.Drops,” her teacher said, “You’re still in time. Now take your seat.”

As she made her way to a saved seat where Lyra had arrived earlier, she noticed that she wasn’t the only familiar face in the crowd. Sitting on the armrest of the couch was the very customer that had come to her workplace several days ago. And not too far was Soarin Cloudline that looked a bit anxious as he rotated a pair of drumsticks in his hands.

“Hey,” she called out, waving her hand at them. The two of them looked up in which she got to different responses. From Soarin, he gave a casual wave while Braeburn tensed up a bit before waving back.

Once the time had arrived, Harmonic spoke up. “Welcome everyone, students and parents alike, thank you all for coming. I must say that overall, I’m pleased that those who have been working with me have done a great job in improving their skills this summer.

“So to begin, how about we start off with a little piano music from Sweetie Drops with her piano piece.”

The Candy Maker got up from her seat and walked around the garden of chairs to get to the piano bench.

“Introduce yourself first,” her teacher reminded her.

“Right,” she turned to her audience, “My name is Sweetie Drops, and I’m going to be playing for you Gymnopedies number one through three by Erik Satie.” She then proceeded to sit down at the open keyboard, adjusting her seat a little and placing a foot at one of the foot pedals.

Taking in a deep breath, she pressed the first few keys of a slow movement. The left hand moved at a Larghetto pace of a lone dance. It was setting an atmosphere of a dreamlike ballroom when the right hand descends into the fantasy of the piano. In slow motion, her hands waltzed in calming, tranquil sounds of deep meditation and airy thoughts.

Around the room where a very few parents were trying to shush their younger children, the room was quiet, almost as if they were in deep thought along with Bon Bon. The sound was undoubtedly relaxing with its soft bell-like chimes from a Tibetan monastery. However, the students who up next were still struggling to take comfort in this music when they weren’t entirely sure how it’ll turn out.

As for Lyra, she was not only confident in her performance but also glad that her girlfriend was doing so well with her piece. Even when she did miss a few notes, to her, it was perfect.

As time went on, with one student finishing and another beginning, over the course of an hour in that cramped room, Harmonic’s students had performed. Some of them were good, others sounded like they needed more time to practice, but no matter how each of them did, and they were great in their perseverance. Lyra played her moonlight, and Braeburn was passionate in his hidden love song.

But then came the last one to perform, Soarin got up to walk over to the drum set while Harmonic took out his violin.

“For an encore,” his teacher said, “and with a little help with the stereo behind me, the last piece will be a combination of old and modern sounds. This duet between me and Soarin is using the harmonic progressions of the Baroque period of Bach and Vivaldi, with the modern rhythms of rock and roll music.” He turned to his aqua student, “Mind introducing yourself and the piece.”

“Name’s Soarin Cloudline, and we’re playing Rock Toccata.”

With that, Harmonic pressed a button on the stereo in which over the speakers where four beeps, causing Soarin to take the lead.

Three taps of his drumsticks latter, his teacher raised his bow and two thunderous staccato notes came from the violin at the same moment as the guitar and bass guitar summoned the storm. Yet Soarin’s beat kept the time even when his teacher flung the small room into a storm of cross-string melodies. The violin combined the virtuosity of Vivaldi with the melodic counterpoint of Bach that made the wooden instrument into something electric.

Soarin, on the other hand, kept reality together with his beating on the drums and cymbals that its thunder countered his teacher’s wild yet elegant sound.

For some of the audience, who had listened to classical music, this was rather a huge surprise that for such a loud finale was completely unexpected. However, there were parents who not only didn’t mind but got into it, even the students pulled out their phones to record it.

“Look at him go!” someone commented while Harmonic’s fingers and bow were in a near blur as his left hand went up and down the fingerboard while his right moved as if possessed. Harmonic with his eyes closed did bob his head to the beat as he changed from one erratic key to the next.

Even Braeburn was mesmerized. He didn’t realize that something as simple as a wooded instrument with four strings could sound like that. ‘Jimmy Hendricks eat yer heart out,’ he thought.

By the time that the song had concluded, the applause came along with the cheers from the younger members of this tinny audience, “That’s all we have,” the music teacher said, “and once again, thank you very much.”

The reception died down when the students went to put their respective instruments back in their cases, the Violinist stood in place as he watches and heard from the parents their congregations and pride of their children that they slid out the front door.

He also saw Braeburn walk over to Soarin, “Man that was somethin’,” he said.

“Oh yeah, that was awesome, and you were good too,”

The cowboy rubbed his neck, “It was… okay.”

A snort was heard from the athlete, “No really bud, you were great. You should let me hear you play more often.”

“Hey there,” they turned to find Lyra and Bon Bon there, “Nice job, both of you,” the mint green student told them.

Braeburn nodded and said a simple, “Thank ya.”

“Since the four of you are here,” Harmonic piped up, getting their attention. “I was wondering since school is coming up, will I be expecting any of you for Orchestra this year?”

“Ya know,” Sweetie Drops said, “I think I would, that was surprisingly fun.”

“Not ta mention helpful,” the farmer added. “Heck, if those councilors would let me, Ah could give it another go.”

“Eh, why not?” Soarin shrugged.

“If Bonnie is gonna do it, then so will I,” Lyra finished.

“Very well,” their teacher nodded, “You still have about a week left of summer, so all I can say is thank you for having me tutoring you and have a good week.”

“Thanks, Mr. H,” they said as they began to take their leave.

Once the living room was cleared out, the only ones that remained were his son and future wife. “That was a pretty good dad,” Script told him.

His dad shrugged, “I’ve messed up on a few notes here and there.”

“I think it was great,” Page said. “Besides, I think it’s pretty good for you?”

“Huh?”

“What she means,” his son clarified, “Is that at least you’re getting out a little more and doing something productive.”

“I suppose so,” Harmonic went over to put his violin back in its case. “Thanks for coming anyway.”

Author's Note

Phew! Okay, this will be my last update story-wise for the next two weeks. I'll be going on vacation to see my aunt and uncle in Arizona. But at least the good news is that I'm halfway done with this story! :pinkiehappy:

I'll still be able to comment and all, but I don't think I'll be doing any writing for a while.

Autumn, 1st Movement.

For many, it seemed that summer has ended and school has started a little too soon. Their three months of rest from study and worrying about what their grades will be wasn’t enough, but the calendar says otherwise.

Even for teachers, who wished they could manipulate the length of time on their snooze buttons, marched towards the high school with the discipline of zombies. All except for the sun principal that looked like the only one that was not only fully awake but peppy with her greetings as well.

“Good morning,” she would say to one teacher that muttered something. “Welcome back,” to another that was clenching onto a cup of coffee in hopes to bring them back to reality, “Ready for another day of teaching?”

“You’re just enjoying this, aren’t you?” Mr. Disc grumbled. “Seriously, what sort of illegal substance are you taking to be this awake?”

Principal Celestia rolled her eyes, “What can I say? I’ve always been a morning person. So how was your summer?”

“It was all going well until the alarm clock ruined it this morning. One moment, I was having van Gogh’s dream, where ponies and chickens were sneezing under the stars while the pecans were banging on the door to keep it down, the next, I’m here.”

“So a typical morning than?” she asked. He nodded and said something about heading towards the teacher’s lounge. A few more teachers and students showed up, familiar faces just gave her a nod or said their good morning’s before they entered the building.

Then she spotted Harmonic’s car pulled up to the parking lot of the school with that said teacher getting out. Taking his violin case with him, he went up to Celestia. “I hope I’m not too late?”

“Oh no, you’re still on time. How are you this morning?”

“I think I’ll be okay myself. What about you? You said that you and your sister went on vacation a while ago didn’t you?”

She smiled, “We did. It was quite the experience that I wished you could have been there yourself.”

“Being a pony?”

“You’d be surprised.”

The orchestra teacher looked down at his hands, “No thanks,” he said lifting up his left hand, “I’d prefer being a creature that has some of these.”

“Well you’re no fun,” she teased. “How was summer for you?”

He shrugged, “It was there I suppose. Kept me busy with some music lessons here and there, and Script has set a date on when he and his fiancé are getting married.”

“Oh that’s good, when is it?”

“The week before Christmas,” Harmonic looked at his watch, “I’m afraid I need to go set things up.”

“That’s alright, see you around.”

He nodded as he went inside. Soon enough, the rest of the students and faculty had arrived. Once the morning bell was rung, singling for the five minutes until classes start, Celestia herself went inside towards her office to personally great her new and old students over the loud-speakers.

_*_

“Welcome to P.E., name’s Spitfire and I’ll be your instructor for this trimester,” the woman of the flaming hair told her second period students. “Now before you lot go change into your workout clothes, I should think it’s a good idea that I should introduce myself for those who don’t know. I am an ex-drill Sargent for the U.S. military, in-particularly for the Air Force. This means that I am used to teaching discipline when I see fit. But don’t you worry all that much, I’ll try to go easier than the recruits at boot camp. However, I do expect out of you is that every single one of you should be here on time and be dismissed only when I say so. When you walk through those doors to the gym, all of you are expected to work together as a team and to respect each other as such. For the only way that any of you can possibly fail my class is if you do nothing, so I’ll be watching. Also, whenever any of you address me, the first and last thing that should be coming out of your mouths is ‘Ma’am’. Above all, unless given me some kind of paper work, you will do whatever I say, and you’ll do it, am I clear?”

“Ma’am yes ma’am,” her students replied.

“C’mon, you could do better than that! Louder!”

“MA’AM YES MA’AM!”

She smiled, “Better, now all of you, go get change, you’ve got five minutes.”

So with that, her students got up and went to their respective locker rooms. Among those who were going in, Soarin pat Braeburn’s shoulder, “Well buddy, what you think of Spitz?”

“Other than a bit intimidating then Pa threatenin’ with a belt in his hand, not too bad Ah guess,” his yellow friend said awkwardly as they entered along with the rows of lockers and benches. “Still, at least we get ta be in the same class.”

“No kidding, it’s like old times in a way.” The aqua athlete chose a locker and started to unpack. “I’d think you’re gonna like Ms. Spitfire’s P.E., she's usually leaning towards games for exercising,” at this he took off his shirt, “Which I think is going to be fun the way I see it.” When his friend didn’t respond, Soarin looked over to find that not only his back was turned, but his face was turning red. “Hey, you alright buddy?”

“Uh… Soar,” the cowboy said, “Could ya… you know… turn around?”

“Turn around? What do you… Oh,” realizing this Soarin blushed a bit too. “Oh, sure thing man.” He turned around, “Sorry, I kinda forget about ya sometimes.”

“No. No yer fine,” Braeburn started changing himself. “Y'all can’t help it, but fer me it’s kinda awkward. Besides, it’s a little rude ta stare.”

Soarin snorted, “I don’t know, I guess it’s kinda a compliment.”

“But there’s still other people around,” his friend quietly pointed out. “Jus’ don’t wanna attract any unwanted attention, if ya know what Ah mean.”

“Right,” he nodded. “Trying to be careful and all huh?”

“Uh-huh, let’s jus’ hurry now.”

Soarin agreed and slipped on his gym clothes before he and Braeburn exited out the locker room.

During their second period, Spitfire had her students do a few laps around the large room, followed by push-ups, crunches, and pull-ups. For the remainder, the teacher had them play basketball where the class was divided up in two teams and the ex-drill Sargent kept score.

While this game was going on, Soarin spotted someone waving him over to the sidelines, “I’m gonna take a breather,” he told Braeburn, “Be back in a sec.” Walking over, he found that the one that was waving him over was, “Thunderlane? Hey dude, haven’t seen ya in a while.”

“Hey man,” the white Mohawk student shook his hand, “How’s your summer?”

“Pretty good, but what about you, aren’t you gonna join up on the Wondercolts again this year?”

“Of course, and I’m trying to get my little bro on the team since he’s just started High School here.”

“Cool.”

Thunderlane looked back at the basketball court to where Soarin’s best friend was trying to block somebody with the ball. “Mind if I talk to ya real quick.”

“Go ahead.”

“It’s about that guy, over there,” he pointed to the orange haired cowboy. “You know ‘em?”

“Yeah, that’s my best friend. Why?”

“Nothing much,” he said leaning over, “It’s just that I’ve heard a rumor about him but I’m not exactly sure if it’s true or not.”

“Like what?”

Thunderlane whispered, “Is it true the guy’s gay?”

Soarin was taken by surprise, “Where’d you hear that?”

“Applebloom and Rubble where hanging out the other day and I heard something that a cousin of hers like other dudes. I’m not sure if she mentioned who exactly, but I know that he’s a relative of hers somehow.” He turned to the blue Wondercolt, “Is it him?”

Soarin didn’t say anything for a moment, “Why’d you think it’s him?”

“I don’t know, he seemed to really follow ya around ever since we got in here, like a shadow so I kinda put two and two together. Look, I know you just said that you’re best friends and all, but that guy hasn’t done anything weird around ya, has he?”

“Uh… no?”

He sighed in relief, “Okay, good. Just checking is all. But Soar, if that guy does something weird, or even looks at you funny,” here, Thunderlane planted his fist against his hand, “You know who to talk to. Kay?”

A sense a dread was felt that Soarin tried to repressed, “Uh, sure,” he said as he started to head out, “I’ll need to get back in the game.”

“Sure thing, see ya around.”

While he tried to catch up to Braeburn, the blue athlete couldn’t help but feel a bit unsafe than usual. After all, he’s been going out with his best friend for half of the summer. Heck, they’re still dating. And although what he heard from a fellow student and Wondercolt was aimed at the framer, he couldn’t help but think what would happen if he knew what was really going on.

“Hey,” Braeburn who was nearly out of breath snapped him out of his thoughts, “You okay?”

“Um… yeah,” he lied, “let’s get back to the game.”

_*_

A few days later, the Orchestra teacher was prepared for the fourth period. Up at front of the class, a stand-up piano waited for a particular student. Before the bell rang, students had already invaded the room with their sheet music, their instruments, and some backpacks. Among them, Lyra and Bon Bon entered, talking about something that the teacher himself wasn’t paying attention to.

When the bell rang, however, Harmonic looked up from his desk to find that his class was full. “Good afternoon class, how’s everybody?” many told him that they were good. “So before we start, what do you guys want to do first? Jackson or Beethoven?”

Many of them agreed on the Beethoven piece that they’ve chosen.

With that, the Violinist waved for Sweetie Drops to make her way towards the piano. “In that case, strings, make sure you have your bows rosen and tighten, everyone else rests for a bit.” He turned to the pianist with a book of the music in her hand. “Have you practiced it?”

“A little bit,” she sat down on the bench, “It’s not that hard to play anyway.”

“We’ll see.” He turned to his little orchestra, “So that we’ve recapped last week about the B Major scale, we’ll be now taking a look at the second movement of Beethoven’s Second movement of his Emperor Concerto. If you haven’t taken a look at the pacing of this, you’ll be pleased that it’s Adagio un poco mosso. In English, it means to play it very slowly and smoothly. To start out, we’ll layer this out, beginning with our soloist and strings.”

Here, Harmonic opened up the violin case and took out his violin, “I’ll be playing with you. We’ll pay it straight first, but once we’re done, we’ll come back and I’ll give my feedback to you. Oh, and don’t worry so much about getting all the right notes, for today, you’ll be leaning from your mistakes.”

With a push from the tip of his bow, the teacher set the weight on his metronome in motion. Setting the unhurried beat for the piece, “Whenever you’re ready,” Harmonic said, putting his bow on the strings.

Sweetie opened her sheet music. It shouldn’t be too hard, sure, they’ll be working on a key that has five sharps, but they’ve already covered it last week. Even the piano part doesn’t look that difficult either, she convinced herself that she could do this when she waved for the other students to begin.

Violin’s, Violas and Cellos began their clam, if not a bit off tune melody. Harmonic could see that many of them were nervous as their bows tried to glide over each bar and to each mechanical beat of the metronome. Some of them had missed a note while others had the wrong bow positions.

But when it came for her to begin with her feet on the pedals, her hands pressing the keys in a downward scale with her right hand, there was a hint of beauty among the unprepared orchestra. Even though she too have missed a few notes herself or gone off beat a few times, there was something about those dreamlike notes that seemed a bit familiar to her.

By the time she and the orchestra had finished, the Orchestra teacher said, “Okay, I think I know what we need to be working on for you guys. And by the looks on your faces, I can tell that you already know what needs work. For Ms. Drops, for a first attempt, that was not too bad. Although, be a little more gentle next time around, alright?”

Several reattempts mistimed notes and some critiques from the teacher, the bell rang for the beginning of lunch. Harmonic put away his violin when he was approached by Lyra and Bon Bon, “Can I help you, ladies?”

“We were just wondering,” the Harpist started, “Would it be too much trouble if we can have lunch with you?”

“The both of you?” they nodded. With a sigh, he added, “Do you have your lunches or do you need to get them in the cafeteria?”

“Why’d you ask?” Sweetie inquired.

“Because I usually have my lunch in the teacher’s lounge. But if you want, I can invite the both of you in.”

“Okay, we’ll go grab them real quick and meet you over there.”

With a nod, their teacher left his classroom and headed towards the lounge. Navigating through swirling clusters and dashing students that hurried to get in line before it becomes too long.

“Hey, Mr. H?” he looked up to find not only Braeburn there, but Soarin Cloudline as well, holding paper bags in their hands.

“Hm?”

“We were wonderin’ if it ain’t too much trouble if we could have lunch with ya,” the cowboy asked, “Soar and Ah wanted ta talk with ya.”

Harmonic raised an eyebrow, “What for?”

“Well,” Soarin spoke up, “Something’s come up and we were hoping that you might help a bit.”

Sighing, their teacher singled them to follow him into the forbidden door in which students aren’t normally aloud. After telling the on looking teachers that they’re with him, Harmonic chosen a table and told them to wait while he gets his lunch. Walking over to the fridge, he took out the plastic box with his name on it; put it in the microwave to warm it up while noticing that there was someone missing from the lounge.

“Pasta again?” looking up, he found Mr. Disc; having a Thanksgiving spread on the ceiling.

“Tortellini in Alfredo sauce,” the Orchestra teacher replied, “and how were your morning classes?”

“Getting better,” Julius started carving up the turkey. “You wanna trade something?”

“No, I’m good.” He looked down to the two boys who looked up with awe.

Soarin was the first to speak what was on both of their minds, “How-”

“It’s Mr. Disc,” Harmonic answered when the timer went off, “It’s best not to question it.”

“Hey you two,” Julius singled at the students, “Any of you wanna trade?”

“Ah guess,” Braeburn answered without taking his eyes off of the upside-down spread.

“What ya got?”

He dumped out his bag onto the table, out tumbled an apple, a can of cola, a ham sandwich, a bag of sour cream and onion chips, and a slice of apple pie in a plastic wrap.

The Art teacher put a hand underneath his chin in thought. “How about I trade you a couple of rolls for the chips and the soda for a cup of cider?”

“Sound’s great, except Ah don’t know how ta give it to ya without having any of it landin’ on ma face.”

With a snap of his fingers, the bag of chips and soda floated upwards while a couple of rolls and a cup of cider drifted downwards, “You were saying?” Mr. Disc asked.

“Julius, stop it,” Harmonic said as he walked to the table with his lunch in hand. “You’re showing off again.”

“And you’re being boring,” the Violinist ignored that remark as he sat down.

“Anyways, what do you two want to talk about? Is it about your grades or something?”

“Not… really,” Soarin admitted. “As of late, I’m starting to get concern here – over safety.”

This got a raised eyebrow from Harmonic, “How so?”

He sighed and looked over to his friend, “Well, more of his actually,” he pointed over to him. “You see, gym class is the only period in which we’re together. Which is great and all, except there’s someone there that’s thinking that Brae might be getting a little too close to me.”

“There is?” Braeburn’s face paled, “Who?”

“Hey, come down man, I don’t think it’s nothing too serious, but…”

“But, what?” their teacher inquired, “Are you concerned that he might get hurt by another student?”

“In a way,” the athlete admitted, “But the thing is since school had started, he came to me asking if Brae was acting a little ‘too weird’ around me, and that he would… you know, beat him or something if he was. The problem is, I know Thunderlane too since he’s on the Wondercolts, and a good teammate.”

“Wait,” the farmer objected, “there’s a fella in Gym class that might wanna hurt me, and you know ‘em?”

“Pretty much,” he nodded. “But he only told me this once, so I can’t tell if he actually meant it. Ever since I’ve tried to keep a close eye on Thunder so that he wouldn’t do anything bad. But I guess I’m afraid of what would happen if my back is turned. What if he does something and I’m not there? Mr. H, what do I do?”

“First of all,” Harmonic said after scooping up some of the pasta into his mouth. “I’m kinda glad that you’ve come to me about this. Who is your teacher in that class?”

“Ms. Spitfire,” Braeburn answered.

“I’ll have a word with her after school about keeping an eye on this student. Since you know this Thunderlane, do you really think that he would hurt Mr. Apple if he got the chance?”

He sighed, “Yeah.”

“But has he done anything like this before?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Trust me,” he looked over to the apple farmer, “I know how it feels when you don’t feel safe because of who you are. I’ve been there.”

“You were bullied, Mr. H?”

There was a pause from their teacher, “You might call it that. I don’t know if you know this, but my family was originally from Italy, and we immigrated here when I was seven. When I first realized that I was gay and had a crush on another boy, my parents… kicked me out. For a while, I was homeless, owning nothing except for a violin case. Not only was I concerned about my survival, but worried sick over if anyone could see-through my secret. Of course, I had my share of beatings before I found my way here at this High School.”

Here, Harmonic gave a ghost of a smile, “Celestia really helped me not only get a basic education but really helped me up, and even encouraged my talent on the violin as well. So, once I got my first real job as a teacher here, I made a promise to myself that I will make sure that what I went through won’t happen to anyone else again. And with you two, I’m going to keep that promise so that you’ll be safe at this school.”

“Thanks, Mr. H,” Soarin Cloudline said before the door of the Teacher’s Lounge was opened.

“They’re with me,” Harmonic said, pointing at Lyra and Bon Bon with their trays. The two of them walked over to their table. After trading the Surrealist art teacher of their “lunch”, and received some pumpkin pie, real mash potatoes, and sweet potatoes later, the Orchestra teacher asked them what was it that they wanted to talk to him about.

“Well, to be honest,” Lyra Heartstrings started, “It’s more about curiosity than anything else.”

“Not to mention that we have a personal question to ask ya,” Sweetie added.

The Violinist shrugged, “Go ahead, I wouldn’t mind.”

“What was he like?” the green student asked.

“Who?”

“Color,” Harmonic looked up from his lunch. “Look, I don’t want to offend you over it. But we never knew the guy, or less heard of him until a couple months ago. It’s obvious that the guy meant a lot to ya, but could you at least talk about who he was?”

Their teacher sat up, but looked back down at his pasta, not saying a word.

Bon Bon sighed, “I knew this was a bad idea.”

“No,” Harmonic waved, “I’m not upset Ms. Drops. But, do you really want me to?”

“Ya know,” Braeburn spoke up, “Ah’ve heard that ya had a husband yerself, but Ah’m curious too since Ah’ve never even seen a picture of ‘em in your house.”

“I know,” he nodded, “I guess you could say that I’ve missed him too much that… I could barely look at those photos and not think about when he was alive.”

“So you’ve missed him that much?”

“More than you could know. But… with someone like him, how could I not? Color… in a way, saved me from a poisonous idea that I had to accept the fact that nobody would be insane enough to love… well, me – that I had to be contempt that I was going to live and die alone. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. Yet, when we’ve met, well, more like introduced from a friend where we went on a blind date,” Harmonic laughed while giving a sad smile, “I remembered him being so nervous. He was a painter you see, and on that first date, he had painted my self-portrait while I played my violin. Once we slowly opened up, we found out that we had a few things in common; the only difference is that he had hope that he would find that special someone, while I had completely given up.

“Yet, from that humble start, I found out how wise he really was, and given the sort of sympathetic wisdom that, I couldn’t help but repay him for being so kind to me. For four years when we started college, he was the very person where I could tell all my problems to and not only would he listen, but he would do everything he could to convince me that not only was I normal, but I was indeed loved.”

“That must be some guy huh?” Soarin Cloudline asked.

“You would have liked him, all of you would. He was so selfless that…” their teacher trailed off before shaking his head, “I’m sorry, I don’t talk about that.”

“Hey, Trotivari,” the five of them looked up to where Mr. Disc was getting up, wrapping his lunch up with the tablecloth. “Do you mind if I tell ya something? I don’t know how much this’ll help, so I’m just going to say this once and then give it up.”

“And what’s that?”

“At least be grateful,” Harmonic asked what he meant by that while he walked down the walls to the floor. “I mean that at least you had someone that really cared for you. That’s very rare you know. You may have lost your love, but at least you had one. Why look at me. I’m way older then you and I’ve never been married. If it was good and you know it, appreciate that you’ve experienced it. Now, if none of you mind, I have to go before the bell rings, and Ms. Heartstrings,” he pointed at the green student, “Remember to finish your project by Friday.”

_*_

Spitfire blew her whistle, “That’s all for today guys. Go get changed and have a good day.”

Dodgeballs made their way back into the baskets as students separated to their respective locker rooms. Though out of breath from all the running and dodging the rubber balls from hitting them in the face, the students were relieved that their session with the ex-drill Sargent was over.

Thunderlane slipped through the door of the room with Soarin and Braeburn behind him, “How come that yer good at dodgin’ but when it comes ta throwin’ yer like a five-year-old.”

“For the same reason why I didn’t go into baseball, when it comes to my hands, I have really bad aim. But it would have been different if I could just kick them.”

“Sure it would,” the cowboy said, dripping with sarcasm. “But still, that was fun.”

At this point, Thunderlane was at his locker, tumbling around with the combination.

“Kinda wish Spitz would have us do a bit of soccer,” Soarin commented. “Perhaps I could show ya around a few moves.”

“Nah, if Y'all did, Ah would just get distracted by ya,” this gave Thunderlane a moment to pause.

The blue Wondercolt laughed, “Over what, my moves or the muscles?”

“You know what Ah mean. But the point bein’ that Ah think soccer isn’t mah kind of sport.”

“Then what is? You live on a farm, what kinds of sports do you like?”

“Well, Ah’m more of a hands-on type,” at this Thunderlane looked over his shoulder at the two. While both of them have their backs turned to him while sitting down on the bench, Soarin already has his shirt off while the Apple farmer, to the charcoal athlete, was sitting a bit too close to his fellow teammate.

“Like what? Weaseling?” Soarin asked, sorting his gym clothes in the tiny locker.

“Yeah,” Braeburn placed a hand on his back. “If yer not doin’ anythin’ after school, maybe Ah could show a few moves myself.”

‘Oh no he didn't!’ Thunderlane got up from the bench and marched over towards the farmer. Grabbed his neck and shoved him to the lockers. “I knew it!” he yelled.

“Dude! What are ya doing?” Soarin snapped at him.

“Just as I thought,” Thunderlane said, every word dripping with venom. “Your cowboy friend of yours really is a fag! He was trying to hit on ya.”

“W-What!” was what Braeburn could muster from the shock of it all.

“Thunder, let him go,” Soarin stood up.

“I made a promise to ya,” he raised his free hand, forming into a fist, “and I’m gonna keep it.”

Without thinking, the blue athlete grabbed his teammate’s fist, twisting it around his back and said, “Hands off my boyfriend!”

Letting go of Braeburn's neck, Thunderlane took a swing at Soarin, punching him on the side of his head. Now free, the cowboy leaped up, throwing a punch of his own. Within a matter of seconds, the three of them were swinging fists and even throwing whatever was in reach. The other students quickly noticed this, and one of them went off to get the teacher.

“I’m gonna kick your asses!”

“Not if Ah kick it first!”

Insults and war cries were exchanged before a sharp, piercing whistle slapped through the air.

“Enough!” Spitfire barked, “You three, on your feet, now!” They obeyed, “What is going on, why were you three fighting!”

“He started it,” the yellow and bruised student pointed over to the charcoal one.

“Ma’am,” Thunderlane said, “There’s a couple of queers in here ma’am!”

Spitfire took off her sunglasses and looked at the charcoal students with a gaze that could easily shatter steel. “I’m sorry,” she said it with a low voice that was close to growling; “I don’t believe I heard you right. What do you mean by that?”

“These two,” he tilted his head towards Soarin and Braeburn.

She raised an eyebrow, looked over at them before returning to him again, “Thunderlane, who makes the rules here?”

“Ma’am, you and the school do ma’am.”

“Do you know the rules?”

“Ma’am, yes ma’am.”

“Then tell me, is such behavior that you’ve just demonstrated aloud?”

Thunderlane tensed up, “M-Ma’am?”

“Just answer the question! Is such language and abusive behavior towards these two okay to both the school’s and my rules?”

“Ma’am no, ma’am.”

“It’s not? Then why did you just called them queers just now?”

When Thunderlane didn’t answer, she blew her whistle once more, “Boys! Front and center!” Every male student in the locker room, crowded around them or not, followed suit to her command and stood at attention before her.

“Students,” she said, “Thunderlane has disgraced himself, and this class. I have tried to teach those like him that such discrimination is not welcome because it goes against the spirit of teamwork in which I’m trying to convey. But the looks of it, I have failed. Normally, such behavior would easily get a one-way ticket to detention. However, because of the vial hatred that he has demonstrated, detention will not be enough.

“From now on, I’m installing a new rule among you guys. I’m doing this because it’s the only way that my punishment can be conveyed through his skull. And that rule is this: whenever Thunderlane screws up, I will not punish him.”

‘What!’ both Soarin and Braeburn thought while Thunderlane grinned.

“Instead,” Spitfire continued, “I will punish all of you! And the way I see it ladies, every single one of you is not leaving until you give me one-hundred push-ups.” There was a collective groan when she added, “And even when the bell rings, you are not excused until you complete your task. I suggest you start now!” As students all around got on the floor to start their push-ups, Spitfire said, “Thunderlane, you get to leave class early. Soarin, Braeburn, my office.”

The three of them obeyed. The charcoal student with the white Mohawk took his backpack from his locker and walked through a room full of death scowls from passing, groaning students. While the other two followed her through the door, across the gym to her office door, once inside, she sat down at her desk while her two students stayed standing.

“Ma’am,” Cloudline spoke first, “Are we in trouble ma’am?”

“That depends,” she leaned back in her seat. “So tell me, what exactly happened back there? And you can skip all the ‘ma’am’s’ while you’re at it.”

“We were talkin’,” the farmer began. “Then out of the blue, he grabs the back of mah neck and shoves me into the lockers. Sayin’ that Ah was... well, flirtin' with Soar while callin'...”

“What?”

Braeburn shook his head, “Ah don’t wanna repeat it, ma’am.”

“He was going to hurt him,” Soarin stepped in, “I grabbed his fist before he could hit him, well, before he let him go and punched me. And you can guess the rest.”

Their Gym teacher sighed, “I was told earlier to watch out for something like this by Mr. Trotivari. He told me, that there might be a potential bully in my class to watch out for, Thunderlane in particular. But I don’t recall what the motive was. Now I think I see. Braeburn Apple, was what Thunderlane said about you two a misunderstanding, or was he telling the truth?”

“U-Uh…” the cowboy tensed up at the question, looking to Soarin for a way around answering the question.

“Look, it’s okay,” Spitfire said, “from my time in the military, there were several people who’re gay and they have proven themselves to be outstanding in the call of duty. So really, you’re safe here with me sharing this if you want.”

Braeburn took a moment before answering, “Ah’ve heard that he’d suspected it,” he sighed and bowed his head, “And… he’s right. Truth is, I and Soar have been goin’ out since July.”

“Hmm,” she looked over to Soarin, “Can you confirm this?”

“It’s true.”

“Okay,” she nodded. “I see that I still have failed in taking care of this bullying issue beforehand. However, I’m committed that such a thing like this won’t ever happen again. Both of you have been doing pretty good in my class, and you two seeing each other outside of it won’t change that fact. I will also see to it that Principal Celestia would be made aware of what just happened. Now, I can’t guarantee what she’ll say or do, but knowing her, she would be a little more understanding.”

“I just have one question here,” Soarin inquired, “Why are you punishing the other students that weren’t involved and let Thunder go Scott free?”

She smirked, “Simply because that I know how to deal with prejudice people like him. Because sending him to detention won’t change his mind. I have to put in into a situation where his hatred not only affects him but everyone around him. Just leave it to me; I know what I’m doing. You two are free to go.”

They turned to leave when their teacher added, “Oh, and Apple?”

“Yes’m?”

She pointed to his friend, “Be good to Soarin, he’s a good kid.”

He smiled, “Ah will ma’am.”

After leaving her office and retrieving their things, on the way out, the farmer asked, “Hey Soar?”

“Yeah?”

“Ah wanna say thanks fer standin’ up for me. But there’s somethin’ that Ah really wanna know.”

“Shoot.”

“Did ya really call me, yer boyfriend?”

Soarin stopped walking, “Oh…” his cheeks flushed at realizing what he had said in the locker room. “Uh… about that… I wasn’t really thinking. Y-You were about ta get punched and I did what first came to mind.”

“But Soar,” Braeburn put a hand on his shoulder, “Ah want ya ta be honest with me here. Do you really think of me as somethin’ more than a friend? Like how Ah am with you?”

His best friend couldn’t look at him, with a hand rubbing the back of his head and aware that his face was taking on a shade of red, he looked around the hallways before quietly sighing, “Would it be weird, if I said yes?”

Without warning, the athlete was suddenly given a strong bear hug by his best friend, “No sir,” Braeburn beamed, “If anythin’, you’d just made incredibly happy! Soar, Ah don’t know what else ta say ‘cept, thank you!”

“Air,” Soarin choked, “Need...”

“Oh!” Braeburn let go, “Sorry, don’t know mah own strength half the time.”

“No, you’re good,” Soarin said taking in a few precious breaths before grinning. “Not if I do this first.”

“Huh?” suddenly, it was his turn for his lungs to be crushed in his arms.

Once he let go, his first boyfriend said, “Now, we’re even.”

Autumn, 2nd Movement.

Author's Note

Welp, I'm tired. *Crash!* I'm okay!

Autumn, 2nd Movement.

Once October rolled in, students found that the hallways were decorated in black and orange paper that hung from the ceiling. Cut out paper bats, pumpkins, ghosts, and pointy witches hats dangled and spin over the heads of those who walked through. Even paper leaves of yellow, orange, red and brown were taped to lockers and walls of the school.

The last thing that went on the walls of the hallways was the posters for the upcoming Halloween dance. Although not as big as the Fall Formal in November, the themed costume ball was still looked forward by many students to show up in their costumes and get free candy. Not surprisingly, Principal Luna chose the theme for the dance every year, and this time, it’s about ghosts.

“Are you going to dress up for Halloween?” Bon Bon asked as she pinned the poster onto one of the billboards.

“Not sure,” Lyra handed her girlfriend another poster. It was one of several copies that depicted several pale looking spirits heading towards a graveyard with the title of Ghouls Gala, Canterlot High School at 8 to Midnight, Oct 31st. “Even if I did knew, I don’t know if I wanna go.”

“Why not? We’re in our senior year; this might be the last time we might actually get to go.”

“I know,” she said as they moved on, handing her the roll of tape. “But the thing is I’m not sure if my family needs me to help them for Halloween with our annual party and all. Hopefully, I won’t be stuck with the duty of escorting the kids around town for tick-or-treating, and get somebody else to do it.”

“Fair enough, but if you did go to the dance with me, what would you come as?”

Her mint green girlfriend thought for a while as she handed her another poster. “That’s a tricky one; I haven’t really thought it through so far. I know it’s about ghosts this year but what does that entail? Come in with a white sheet over your head with eye holes or what?”

Sweetie Drops shrugged, “Maybe we just need to get creative with it. I mean, its ghosts, somebody who’s dead, which opens up a lot of possibilities, like I could show up as Cleopatra.”

“And I can be Julius Caesar,” Lyra smirked.

“Before or after he got stabbed?”

“Oh shut up,” she playfully punched Bon Bon in the arm. “I’m still thinking here with all that’s going on.”

This got Sweetie Drop’s attention, “What do ya mean?”

Lyra quickly realized what she said, “Uh… Y-You know what, forget it what I said.”

“No, is something wrong?”

She shook her head, “No, it’s nothing bad or anything it’s just…”while Lyra trailed off, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “Here, you read this. It’s from the other me, I got it yesterday.”

Bon Bon raised an eyebrow and unfolded the letter that was in her girlfriend’s hand and scanned what it said. “Wait, the other me is gonna open a candy shop in some big city? That sounds great!”

“Keep reading,” her girl friend told her. “There’s a little more to it.”

She did, and quickly spotting the problem, “But the other Lyra can’t go because of her career in Canterlot and… wait, this is starting to sound like the discussion we had months ago.”

“I know, she’s also worried about not being able to see her for a while. Much like with me in a way.”

“Lyra,” Sweetie Drops hugged her, “The other us are married, so I doubt that anything would happen to pull them apart, much like us here.”

“But this is different. You’re going to some fancy college soon in some other town.”

“Hey, I’m not going to send in those application letters yet, and neither is my future set in stone.”

“At least you can afford it.”

“Look, we’ve already talked about this-”

“But we haven’t,” Lyra interrupted. “You said we’ll talk about this later back in July and we haven’t said a word until now. If we keep putting this off, we’re going to have to deal with this when times are stressful. Don’t you think it’s better to deal with it now then later?”

“Even when I don’t know how to deal with it?” Bon Bon questioned.

The Harpist thought for a moment, “Perhaps we might need to get some help with this, a third opinion or something.”

“From who? Who’s going to help us figure this out?”

“I don’t know… Mr. H maybe? He’s good at giving advice.”

Bon Bon hummed, taking another poster, “I guess that if we can’t come up with anything else, we would go to him if we can’t think up anything else.”

“Fair enough,” Lyra nodded. “Besides, it was that and the project from Mr. D that has been bugging me lately, so, you can guess why I’m not thinking about costumes at the moment.”

“Really?” the Candy Maker asked as she stuck the poster on the wall. “What kind of project?”

“Oh, we’re learning a bit of post-Impressionism painting. Like van Go and all that. We’ll be using acrylics, but I’m still trying to figure out what exactly to do with my painting.”

“Has he said anything about it?”

“Only that we need to take a picture and make it black-and-white so that we’ll have some idea what colors to paint with later. But that doesn’t solve what I’m gonna do.”

Bon Bon put a hand to her cheek in thought, “Are you aloud to do portraits?”

Lyra raised an eyebrow, “Like, do you?”

“Why not?” she smiled, “I wouldn’t mind too much if you did mine, if anything, it’ll be kinda touching.”

“You do realize that I have a ‘C’ in that class right,” the Harpist pointed out, “So I don’t know how well it’ll turn out if I tried.”

“I wouldn’t care if you painted me as a plate of spaghetti, I would be glad to help you out.”

_*_

Spitfire blew her whistle once more, “Alright Wondercolts, take a break, you’ve earned it.”

On the field, there was a sigh of relief as the team headed towards the orange water cooler. Naturally, Soarin Cloudline was out of breath from the all the practice for the past half-hour. Not to mention that his throat was dry from the entire workout.

“Hey Soar,” the team’s captain, Rainbow Dash offered him a paper cup from the cooler. “Nice work out there.”

“Thanks,” he takes hold on the cup while whipping the sweat with his jersey. By the time he was taking gulps from the tap water, Thunderlane took a cup and filled it, giving Soarin the evil eye all the while before turning his back from him.

“What’s up with him?” Dash raised an eyebrow. “Lane’s really been avoiding ya lately.”

“Have ya heard about what happen a few weeks ago in our gym class?”

“Other than there was a fight in the boys' locker room, not much. Why?”

“To put it short, we had a fight.”

“I know, but over what? I don’t think I’ve ever seen him like this before.”

The aqua athlete sighed, “Then I guess you haven’t heard about who I’m dating either huh?” she shrugged. “To put it short, I’m dating a dude.”

“Really,” the girl with the rainbow hair smirked, “Soar, I didn’t think you swung that way.”

“It’s… kinda complicated,” he took another gulp. “We started going out in the middle of summer, but we already knew each other for a while and he has feelings for me.”

“Who the dude?” she asked while taking a gulp of her own. “Do I know him?”

“You know the Apples, right?”

“Like Applejack? Sure I do. Hold on,” she lifted a finger, “which one? Is it Big Mac or someone else?”

“Actually it’s-”

“Hey Soar,” he was quickly cut off by a familiar Southern drawl.

Locating the source of where the voice was coming from, Soarin blinked, “Brae? What are you doing here?”

“Hey there,” his boyfriend took off his Stetson, “Ah know this is bit short notice but, Ah was wonderin’. Do ya mind if ah did a tryout fer the Wondercolts?”

“Wait, what?” Soarin asked, “I thought you’re not interested in doing sports?”

“Ah know,” the yellow cowboy rubbed the back of his neck. “But Ah’ve been thinkin’ lately about how else Ah could spend more time with ya. And Ah know that Ah might be a bit rusty when it comes to this stuff, but it wouldn’t hurt none ta give it a try.”

“But what about your guy’s farm, doesn’t your family need help with that?”

“Ah still have some free time, and maybe Ah could spend it here,” he said with a smile.

Rainbow Dash hummed, “You’re one of AJ’s cousins aren’t ya?”

“Yes’m. Name’s Braeburn by-the-way,” he offered a handshake to her.

She accepted it, “Good to meet ya. I’m the team captain.”

“So, do Y'all know how Ah could join yer team?”

“First off,” Rainbow pointed her thumb at the fire-haired Gym teacher. “You might wanna talk with Ms. Spitfire first about it. Of course, getting in ya need a physical, along with showing off your moves to her to see if you’ll make it in or not.”

“Oh, thanks,” Braeburn started walking towards her before turning back to his friend, “See ya, Soar.”

He waved back at him, returning his attention to a smirking team captain. “What?”

“Is it him?”

“Who?”

“Your boyfriend, duh,” she rolled her eyes.

“How’d you-”

“Lucky guess, though to be blunt,” she leaned over to the side, getting a view of the cowboy going up to Spitfire. “He ain’t half bad.”

“Uh…” he looked over, slightly blushing, “What ya mean?”

“You’ve got a handsome one here,” Rainbow said directly.

“Well… thanks?”

The whistle cut through the air as Spitfire called an end to their water break. The practice game resumed once more, every so often, Soarin took a glimpse over to where Spitfire and Braeburn where, but couldn’t hear what was being said. At one point, he spotted them shake hands, which could only mean one thing.

Spitfire is giving him a chance.

Once practice was over, Soarin went over to the cowboy, “Well?”

He smiled, “She’s givin’ me a try. This is good news Soar!”

“Good to hear,” he reached up to mess with his hair. “You think you’ll be ready for it? You know, for her test?”

“Please,” Braeburn rolled his eyes, pushing his hand off his head, “How hard can it be?”

“Well, she does take the whole test thing seriously,” Soarin pointed out as they started walking across the field. “She’s looking for anybody that’s fit enough to not only do a lot of running but have good aim at kicking a ball too.”

“Child’s play,” he snorted, “Ah’m sure that whatever she has in mind, Ah think Ah’ll take it. Wouldn’t hurt to give it a shot ta see how it’ll go, though Ah do hope Ah would get on the team.”

“I’m actually impressed you’re actually doing this, even after all these years of, well, not being on a sports team. So you’re really doing all this for me?”

He nodded, “Ah jus’ wanna be close now. You’d bein’ mah boyfriend and all, Ah wanna see fer mahself what it’s like for ya doin’ what you love. 'Side’s, maybe it’ll be fun.”

“You’re sure buddy? Even if you do get in, it’ll be a lot of hard work that Spitz would give ya, being new and all. With her, it’s kinda like a mini boot camp.”

“But Ah’m confident. Course, it has been a while since Ah really played any sports, but Ah’ve been practicin’ a bit with mah kick.”

“Practicing, how?”

“Mainly buckets, whatever balls Ah have are either thrown away or have holes in them so Ah have ta work with whatever Ah got.”

“I suppose so. Say, since you’re here, you wanna get something? I heard they have that candy corn cake at Sugar Cube Corner now.”

Braeburn smiled, “Sure thing buddy.”

_*_

“Really? You’ve actually paid for that?” Harmonic’s son asked with astonishment over the phone.

“Yes, and it even came with free catering too,” the Orchestra teacher said before taking a bite of his sandwich.

“But the Applewood Hotel?” Script questioned, “Isn’t that place way expensive?”

“Not if you rent the Ball Room. It maybe huge but at least they don’t come with diamond encrusted sinks and expensive silk sheets.”

“Still, I’m amazed that you’re throwing your money into this.”

“I told you, I’m practically retired. And if I want to spend some of my cash on my son’s wedding, then that’s what I intend to do to make you guys happy.”

“Thanks, dad,” Harmonic took another bite of his lunch. “Though, are you okay with the time that Page and I are getting hitched? If all goes right, we’ll be gone for our honeymoon by around Christmas.”

“So?”

“Won’t you be alone by then?”

The amber Violinist sighed, “I think so. But you don’t have to worry about me Script. Think about you guys; I should be fine when the holidays come around.”

“But dad, that’s what I’m worried about. Considering what happened to Pa, I just don’t want ya to think that you’re being abandoned here without someone there. After all, for being a joyful holiday, I don’t want you to feel alone and depressed while I and Page are gone.”

“Script,” his father said sternly, “You don’t have to worry about me. I’ll be fine. Be concern about you guy’s about saving money for going to New York. I’ll take care of the whole wedding set up while you take care of where you’ll be going.”

There was a sigh from the other line. “If you say so dad, for now, I think I’ll let you get back to work.”

“Sounds good,” he picked up his drink. “Will I be expecting you guys over for dinner tonight? I’ll be fixing some homemade ravioli you like.”

“Don’t worry, we haven’t forgotten,” his son ensured him, “We’ll see you later.”

“Okay, bye.”

“Bye,” with tumbling and a click, his son hangs up and Harmonic returned to his lunch.

Not too long after his phone call was over, Celestia asked if he could sit down with him. The teacher waved, giving his permission to do so. “That’s really sweet of you.”

“Hm? What?”

“Forgive me, but I overheard that you’re paying for your son’s wedding, right?”

He nodded, “Yes, I am.”

“When is it?”

He opened up his bottle of milk, “The week before Christmas.”

The head Principal paused, “Wait, how long will your son and his fiancé be gone for?”

“After New Year's at least,” Harmonic looked up, noticing his boss was giving him a sympathetic look. “What?”

“You’re going to be alone for Christmas, aren’t you?”

“Not you too,” he muttered under his breath. “Celestia, you don’t have to worry about me, I’ll be perfectly fine.”

“But for Christmas?” she raised an eyebrow, “Giving your present situation, forgive me for saying this, but I don’t know if you actually ‘fine’ with something like this. As far as I know, with you abandoning the orchestra you usually travel with, your son is gone, and your parents haven’t seen you in years, you’re practically alone here.”

“But I don’t mind being alone for the holidays. What’s so different from all the other days of the week when I’m not seeing anyone?”

“Is that Christmas is known to be the holiday where you celebrate with friends and family. Harm, I’ve known you since the day you tried to sneak into the cafeteria for food when you were homeless. I have stuck my neck out for your well-being, and so has Luna to get you an education and a future. I’m concern about you because you’re family to me.”

“Well maybe I want to be left alone, especially around Christmas,” he said as calmly as possible. “I don’t want anyone else to worry over me, and frankly Celestia, I’m getting sick of it. For the last time, I’m fine.”

His boss didn’t respond for a moment before nodding, “Very well.”

While she had dropped the subject with him, even after the bell had rung for teachers to return to their classrooms, Celestia didn’t let it go. While the holiday itself was several months away, she figured that she had to do something. But the question was what?

She returned to her office, filling out paperwork and from time to time taking a moment to look out the window to think. With the trees starting to turn colors and falling off their branches in the wind, so did the Principal’s thought process that ebbed and twisted as she tried to come up with some kind of idea to help out Harmonic.

Then, she got an idea. After getting up from her desk and poking her head out the door, she asked her secretary, “Ms. Raven? Could you get the number for Script Trotivari for me?”

After giving the number to her, Celestia closed the door to make her phone call.

“Hello?” the voice on the other line said.

“Hey Script, it’s me, Celestia, how’s it been?”

“Oh, hey there, I was just starting lunch. But out of curiosity, why are you calling me Cel? Did something happen to dad? I just barely-”

“Not really,” she sat back in her seat. “I just found that you’re getting married, which, congratulations by-the-way.”

“Thanks.”

“But I shall get straight to the point here. I’ve also learned that your father will be home alone for Christmas. So I was hoping if you could help me do something about it.”

“Really? You want my help?”

“Why not? You’re his son after all so you probably know him better than do when it comes to the holidays.”

“Yes but, why now? December is still several months away.”

“I like to plan ahead.”

Script from the other end hummed in thought. “I’m curious, what do you have in mind?”

“For starters,” Celestia took out a pen, “does your father mind about carolers coming to his door?”

_*_

On the grassy field, the Wondercolts had lined up for practice. Their coach held the soccer ball under her arm while Braeburn stood next to her, “Guys,” Spitfire told them. “Today we have a tryout for our team. As usual, we’ll be doing our usual practice, only we’ll be testing him to see if he’s got the guts for being a Wondercolt. Which means, that I need everyone’s cooperation, and to do exactly as I say for today. Tomorrow I’ll decide if he’s fit enough to join. But until then, let’s get started. Cloudline,” the student walked forward.

“Yes, Ma’am?”

“I need you to start out with the warm-ups. You can assist him with stretches and run a couple laps around the field. You guys have ten minutes.”

Thanking her, Soarin went up to the yellow farmer, who is without his usual Stetson and brown vest and instead is wearing an old t-shirt and shorts.

“Hi there,” Braeburn nodded. “So what’s first?”

“You know the stuff we do in gym class?” he nodded, “It’s pretty much that – some push-ups, crunches, those kinds of things.” So with that, the two of them did their routine stretches before they went on to jogging around the track.

“Any worries?” the blue athlete asked as they made their race.

“Jus’ one,” the cowboy looked towards the field where the other team members were stretching. But it didn’t take long for Soarin to know who exactly he was talking about.

“Thunderlane?” he asked.

“It was the only thin’ that made me not wanna do this tryout. Thinkin’ back to what happened in the locker room. Has he ever done anythin’ bad towards ya?”

“Not really,” Soarin told him as the turned a corner. “If anything, he’s been outright avoiding me. Not even saying a word to me either. Captain Rainbow Dash has noticed this already, and… she already guessed about us.” This got Braeburn’s attention, “And she’s totally cool with it. So even if something does go wrong, I’ll be sure that nothing bad will happen to you.”

“Y’all don’t have ta worry about me,” the farmer took a swig from his water bottle. “If anythin’ it’s you Ah’m worried about.”

“Me? Why would you-”

Spitfire’s whistle pierced through Soarin’s train of thought.

“Warm up’s over,” she declared, “Time for the exercises.” Soon, the whole team assembled before the Ex-Drill Sargent. Turning to Braeburn, she says, “We are going to test you on several key factors: Speed, aim, kick control, quick thinking, bravery if you take on the part of goalie, and endurance under pressure. If you perform these well, and by a majority vote of team members, you’re in. But just to warn you here and now, we won’t go easy on ya. So do you think you can handle it?”

Braeburn smirked, “Bring it on.”

“If you say so,” Spitfire turned to her students. “Fleetfoot, get the cones. Cloudchaser, have those goalie gloves on standby. Rainbow Dash, don’t do flying to intimidate the new guy. Thunderlane,” she looked at him with a stern expression, “play fair.”

“Ma’am yes ma’am,” he saluted.

When orange traffic cones were placed in a straight line on the grassy field, the coach explained, “For your first test, you’re gonna kick this,” she held up the soccer ball, “in-between the cones. The point of this is to go from here to the other side and back again while zig-zagging through the cones as fast as you can. So it’s best to try not to kick the ball too far or too soft while you’re running through. Also,” she let the ball drop and pulled out a stop watch. “I’ll be timing you.”

“How long do Ah have?”

“Just get through, for now, ready?” he nodded and she blew her whistle.

With a kick and a dash, the cowboy zipped between the cones with the Wondercolts watching on. While not perfect, Braeburn swiftly made his way through this simple obstacle course. He reached the end and with a hurry, made his way back to the other side of the cones.

Once he did, Spitfire stopped her watch, “Twenty-eight seconds… not bad kid. Now we’ll go on with the next test. Cloudchaser, the gloves. Thunderlane, get the bag.” Her instructions were met. When she given the gloves, she handed over to the Apple farmer as they headed towards the goalpost, “For this exercise, we’re gonna see how you do as goalie. Don’t worry, these guys are gonna kick one ball at a time, but at random. You’ll be tested on quick thinking and reflexes. For your goal is simple, make sure whatever comes at ya, and doesn’t touch the net. Try to keep out as much as you can, and we’ll move on to the next test.”

“In other words,” he said as the cowboy took his place, “Like dodge ball in reverse.”

This got a chuckle out of the team, “Yeah,” Rainbow commented, “Something like that.”

The coach got out of the way of the firing squad, “Everyone ready?” They said yes, “Are you ready?” she asked Braeburn.

He crouched a little; his arms positioned itself like a kung fu master, “Ready.”

“Go,” she blew her whistle, and the first ball had begun to fly.

True to the coach’s word, the black and white balls did come one at a time, but for the first few, they were lightning fast as Braeburn tried to catch or block those that came his way. However, he was able to stop the balls that came his way with his hands and throw it back to them.

While this was going on, Soarin shifted his eyes over to the charcoal athlete who had a permit frown on his face. There was something about Thunderlane the way he looked from the ball he was kicking and his boyfriend that looked like the gears were turning in his head. What’s more, when he isn’t kicking, he looked over his shoulder over to Spitfire.

Just as Soarin was wondering what Thunderlane was doing while their coach wasn’t looking, he kicked the ball as hard as he could at the same time one of his teammates did, a speeding ball that was aimed towards Braeburn’s head.

“Brae!” but it was too late. Before the cowboy could react, the soccer ball had punched his nose; it was enough to knock him down. While he clenched his nose in pain, Soarin had a flash of anger when he turned to his fellow teammate. “Thunder!” he shouted while he marched over, “What the living HELL did you do that for!”

“Now we’re even,” the charcoal athlete said coldly.

Soarin tried lunging at him but was seized by the hands of nearby Wondercolts. Spitfire blew her whistle, “Hey, what happened?” she demanded, walking between them and headed towards Braeburn.

“Who do you think?” Soarin spat.

It didn’t take long to figure out, “Thunderlane, benches, now!” While she and the charcoal athlete went off to the sidelines, out of earshot of everyone, Soarin rushed over to assist the apple farmer.

Once they reached the benches, Spitfire sat him down, “Seriously Lane, what is going on here?” she questioned. “Up until recently, you were a good kid and now this? This isn’t like you.”

He folded his arms, “Ma’am, I don’t want to talk about it, ma’am.”

“Is this over who Soarin is dating or something?”

“No, yes, it’s…” he stuttered before groan as his hands grabbed his hair. “Just stop, I’m in enough trouble as it is.”

This got Spitfire to raise an eyebrow, “How so?”

“Forget it. You don’t wanna hear about it anyway.”

“Who says I’m not? I’m just trying to figure out what’s changed here. Before you were a great team player, and now suddenly you’re a bully? That I don’t get.”

“It’s too complicated.”

She frowned, “Try me.”

He sighed, “It’s just… those two had ruined everything! Especially Soarin!” he threw his hands in the air, “He was just a normal guy until the Brokeback kid suddenly turned him gay.”

“Hey,” the coach cut him off. “You’re not responsible for who he decides to date. That doesn’t affect you at all.”

“Until you made it affect me,” he pointed at her. “Ever since you got all of gym class turned against me, nobody would go near me because they think I’m solely there to get them into trouble. My record of being a good guy has been stained that even my own little brother doesn’t want anything to do with me. Just because he thinks I’m a bully! He doesn’t want to join the Wondercolts because of me! And it’s all because of those fags that had shoved in and ruin everything!” Thunderlane huffed, “It’s just not fair. Life is going downhill for me all because of one slip up! I admit, what I did in the locker room was uncalled for, but do I have to be suddenly seen as the villain because of it?”

“Believe it or not,” Spitfire said, “That’s actually the point of what I was trying to convey here.”

“And what’s that?”

“Hatred will get you nowhere,” she explained. “In my time in the Air Force, I have to deal with hatred, if not outright prejudice all the time among the recruits. Hatred not only divides people, it isolates them too. I mean seriously, even with the truth about Soarin and Braeburn, even fully knowing that they’ve been dating happily for months that makes you uncomfortable, where has that sense of superiority of you thinking you’re somehow better and much more normal then them has gotten you? Nowhere. I’m glad that you’ve acknowledge what you did was wrong, but you have to let go because it doesn’t just hurt them, it hurts you too.”

“Well, what do you want me to do?” Thunderlane questioned.

“Have you ever heard of the phrase, ‘Starting over’?” the Ex-Drill Sargent asked. “I suggest that if you go over there right now, apologized for what has happened, make the effort of becoming a better person and try to look past of the fact it’s two guys dating to see them as students like you, maybe, just maybe, you can redeem yourself.”

He looked up towards the goal net where Braeburn had his head looking straight up and a rag over his nose. “They won’t listen,” he shook his head.

“But they’ll hear. At this point, they probably won’t be so easy to forgive, but the first step in becoming a better person is to do something that’s as difficult as this.”

The athlete sighed, but she was right. Getting up, he walked towards the couple that he harmed. Almost immediately, he got weird looks from his other teammates as he approached them.

Soarin himself didn’t say a word, but he expectedly gave Thunderlane the death-stare.

“Look,” he began, “I don’t blame you for not taking anything I say seriously since this is my fault. But coach talked to me and… she’s right. I’ve royally screwed up. I’ve been angry that everybody’s turned against me and I saw you two as the source. What I did and what I’ve said was uncalled for. I guess… what I’m trying to say is… I’m sorry.”

Braeburn, who was still trying to stop the bleeding; only looked at him with confusion in his eye, do Thunderlane continued. “Braeburn, truth be told, up until a month ago, I’ve never known anyone that’s gay. I was lead to believe that gay guys were annoying, flamboyant crybabies that don’t appreciate women the same way that we do. I had no idea that you’re going out with Soarin before. Dude, you’ve got every reason to not forgive me for thinking that… and I guess I still do since I grew up believing what I considered to be normal. For that, I know what I did to you was wrong, and I’m sorry. But with that said, I do think that you might make a good Wondercolt.”

He then turned to the blue teammate, “Soarin, dude, you’re right. I’m sorry for thinking that you’ve changed for the worst because you’re going out with this guy. Really, I didn’t mean to turn out like this but… I’ve been treated unfairly lately that has given me the excuse of being the bully. In other words, I’m an idiot, and I’m sorry for being one.”

Braeburn took the bloodied rag off of his nose, “This is all a little sudden ya know. One moment ah get hit, the next yer apologizin’?”

“I know,” Thunderlane nodded, “but still, Spitz has pointed out something that I didn’t realize before. I really want things to go back to normal. Is there something I could do to make it up?”

Soarin looked between him and his boyfriend, “Like stop acting like a total jerk would help.”

“I promise it then,” he said. “I promise that from now on, I won’t do anything bad to either of ya again.”

“Pinkie Promise it,” Rainbow Dash said, folding her arms.

“What?”

“On this team, I don’t want what you did to happen again either. So if you’re serious, do the whole Pinkie Promise, motions and all.”

The charcoal student sighed, “Fine. I ‘Cross my heart, hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye,’ promise that I won’t do anything like that again.”

Braeburn whipped some of the trailing blood from his nose. “Since yer tryin’ ta make the effort, Ah for one will at least call it a truce.” He held out his free hand out to him. Thunderlane reached out but the cowboy pulled back, “Don’t shake unless Y'all mean it.”

The Wondercolt sighed but agreed by shaking the farmer’s hand.

_*_

The bell of the day rang, “That’s all for today class,” Harmonic said as his students got up from their seats. “As always, be sure to practice and have a good day.”

From his desk, he watched the last young orchestra of the day pack up, exchanged small talk and headed out the door. Over all, today wasn’t an okay day. Rehearsals for the November recital were coming along alright, but there were a handful of students that still needed work. Still, he was looking forward to getting home.

When the last student had vanished, Harmonic put his violin back in its coffin case and the music scores into his binder. But just as he turned to leave, he found a couple of students emerging through the door. “Ms. Heartstrings? Ms. Drops?” he asked perplexity, “Is there something you need?”

“Actually, yeah,” the mint student said, rubbing the back of her neck.

“We need some advice,” Bon Bon told him. Harmonic welcomed them both and asked them what kind of wisdom they needed. “Let me get straight to the point here. I’m currently making plans for when I get out of college when we graduate, in this case, an out of state college. But the problem is that Lyra isn’t sure about her education in the long run and if I get accepted, we might get separated. Neither of us want that, yet, I don’t want to abandon my further education for my dream career.”

“So we’re wondering,” The Harpist added, “if there’s anything you could give us to figure out this problem.”

“Ah,” Harmonic leaned on the chalkboard. “So you two are trying to solve a problem before it becomes one I see. Tell me Lyra, do you have any plans when you get out of High School?”

Her face scrunched up, “Well…” she started. “Truth be told… I don’t think I’ve really settled on what to do. I mean, I’m a girl that can play the lyre and harp, not to mention my somewhat fascination with unicorns (but that’s a different story). Plus, as embarrassing at this sounds, I have a part-time job at a smoothie place, but lately I wanted a job that’s, you know, more dignified. Only, I don’t know who would hire me. And besides, everyone knows that college is crazy expansive anyway.”

“Where did you say your school of choice is?” their teacher asked.

“It’s Calvin Hill University,” Sweetie Drops told him. Their teacher put a hand underneath his chin and hummed in thought.

“Have either of you considered the community college here?”

“What good would that do?” the Candy Maker questioned.

“Just hear me out. Since you’ll be starting college, that means that you’ll need to start off with the generals first. That being with Math, English, Social Sciences – that kind of stuff for the first couple of semesters you’ll be required to attend. Keep in mind, just to get through generals may take a couple of years to complete. This means that there might be plenty of time for your girlfriend to either catch up or probably save enough by the time if you want to transfer over to that university.”

The two of them looked at each other, “Could that work?” Lyra wondered.

“I admit, I’ve never really thought of it like that.” Bon Bon confessed, “That way, if I just do generals at a local college here while you save enough, maybe you could move with me to Calvin Hill with me while I get transferred there. You know, it just might work. But I guess I need it to run through my parents and see what they think.”

“From what I hear,” Harmonic stepped in, “going to a community college is a good deal cheaper, and has smaller classes so it doesn’t overwhelm you. I think it might be the way to go. So, with that out of the way,” he picked up his case. “A quick question, are you two going to go that Halloween dance?”

“Probably,” Lyra shrugged. “Why’d you ask?”

“I’m going over there too to perform a little something that the Vice-Principal asked me to do.”

“Really?” the Harpist raised an eyebrow, “What are ya gonna play?”

“A really fun little piece called ‘La Danse Macabre.’ In English, it means, ‘The Dance of the Dead.’”

“Ooh,” Sweetie Drops said, “that sounds interesting.”

“Although I don’t have an orchestra anymore to accommodate me, I was able to find a last minute pianist who was more than willing to take up my offer for the dance at midnight.”

“Let me guess,” Lyra raised a finger, “Mr. Disc?”

“You’re very good at guessing,” Harmonic admitted.

“Will you be dressing up as well?”

“In the manner of speaking, I am. Well, Luna said that it was required.”

“Really? Who are you going to go as?”

“I was thinking of going as Paganini’s ghost. Also known as the ‘Devil’s Violinist,’ which I think will fit perfectly for the midnight performance.” Their Orchestra teacher started to head out the door, he stopped for a moment when he remembered, “Oh! And Ms. Drops, don’t forget to practice that Beethoven piece. Remember, we’re about a month away now.”

“I know, I know,” Bon Bon rolled her eyes; “I haven’t forgotten it.”

“Good,” with that, their teacher made his way to his car.

_*_

The air was cool and there were gray clouds on the night of the dance. Yet, this didn’t discourage those who could attend the dance that was held in the school gym. Students, from sophomore to senor they came in with their costumes from plain and simple to elaborate and detailed.

It is this night that both Lyra and Sweetie Drops found themselves in. “You know,” the mint green lady in Egyptian jewelry said. “I’m still impressed that you can pull off this makeup so well.”

“Oh it’s nothing,” her girlfriend waved it off; “I had to view of couple tutorials here and there. Though I wish I had more time.”

“I still think it’s great, Bonnie,” she winked, “Though I’m surprised that you don’t have Clyde with ya.”

Bon Bon rolled her eyes while adjusting her fedora. “Are you really gonna keep that role-playing up?”

“Hey, it’s Halloween. You gotta have a little bit of fun.”

“Hail Cleopatra!” a sudden voice startled them as they quickly turned who was behind them. They found Soarin in a Roman general’s outfit, complete with the helmet with red plumage.

“Don’t do that,” Lyra shoved the athlete in red clothing.

But Soarin didn’t seem to mind, “Sorry, I couldn’t resist when I saw what you've dressed up as. Which, nice costume by-the-way, it looks pretty good on ya.”

“Oh likewise, and what are you supposed to be, Mark Anthony?”

“Close, Julius Caesar,” he turned Bon Bon, “And what are you?”

“Bonnie Parker, Clyde’s girlfriend.”

“You mean that gangster lady from the twenties?”

She snapped her fingers, “That’s it. Say, where’s the other guy?”

“Who? Brae?” Soarin looked over his shoulder, “He’s just parking so he’ll be here in a sec.”

“What is he anyway?” Lyra asked, but her question was quickly answered when the yellow Apple came up to them in a costume that was a bit unexpected. Admiringly, both girls thought that Braeburn would show up in western theme clothes as he did on a daily basis. However, that was not the case.

For Braeburn walked up on the sidewalk with polished black shoes, gray pants with a gray suit that overlapped a crimson vest and tie. His wild hair was pulled back in a pony tail that was topped with a top hat.

“Nice get up,” Sweetie Drops complimented, “What are you?”

The farmer cleared his throat before lifting his top hat and speaking in the best British accent that he could muster, “Good evening ladies, my name is Dorian, Dorian Gray. A pleasure to meet your acquaintance,” he looked over to Soarin, “I suppose you’ve already met this fine gentleman.”

His boyfriend couldn’t help but chuckle, “You’re such a dork sometimes.”

“What?” he said, regaining his southern drawl, “Ah read sometimes too.”

Soarin shook his head with a grin, “Never mind. So,” he turned to the other couple, “How’s everybody this evening?”

“How about we move inside?” Lyra suggested, “It’s starting to get cold.”

“Quite right,” Braeburn nodded. “You girls wanna hang out? We’re jus’ here fer the candy.”

“Same,” the two young ladies said in unison. “Oh, that and Mr. H is gonna play at midnight,” Bon Bon added.

“Really?” Soarin asked, “Well, this’ll be interesting.” He turned his date and cleared his throat for a more regal voice, “Good sir, would you escort the mighty Caesar to this party?”

Braeburn placed his hand over his heart and bowed, “My pleasure, Your Highness.”

The other couple couldn’t help but giggle at the corniness of this scene and decided to head in.

Inside, the gym’s light bulbs were replaced with violet and blue light bulbs, where yards upon yards of fake cobwebs stretched the walls and ceiling. As expected, the floor space was decorated with tombstones and a black iron gate was there to welcome guests towards the dance floor. There was a small stage that was set up where a DJ mixed and revived her beating music to the random lights that streamed over the noisy room. Off to one corner, a couple of tables held the prize that the four teenagers were after. Besides the punch-bowl of unknown green liquid, candy bars and baked goods lined up, waiting for those to come by to gobble them. While on the other side, a photographer had a sign that offered to take anyone’s picture for a couple dollars.

Bonnie smiled, “Let’s go get our pictures taken,” she said. The four of them agreed to take a group photo. They stood in front of a backdrop of a spooky graveyard, and before the camera flashed as the four of them positioned themselves closely, Soarin put a hand over Braeburn while Lyra did the same with Sweetie Drops.

“Say, ‘Boo!’” and with that, their picture was taken.

_*_

“What time is it?” Soarin asked.

Bon Bon looked at her watch, “It’s almost midnight. But I still haven’t seen Mr. H around, have you?”

“I don’t seem him anywhere,” Lyra looked over the party that was slowing down. “What was he gonna dress as again?”

“Now hold on,” Braeburn objected, “It ain’t twelve yet. So maybe you'll shouldn’t worry so-”

He was cut off when a sudden burst ball of fire was set off on stage. The remix music was suddenly halted where out of the smoke, two figures stood, one of them laughing madly. That was before that said figure started coughing when the smoke cleared, showing that it was Mr. Disc with a pair of horns.

“Dear me,” he said, “They don’t make fire and brimstone like they used to. Anyways, good evening everyone! How’s the party?” The students replied with cheers. “That’s good since it is almost midnight and this party is drawing to a close, I think we should end this on a couple screeching high notes.”

He then stepped aside to reveal the other figure from the smoke, in which the four students had to do a double take. If it weren’t for his amber skin, they wouldn’t have recognized their teacher. He stood there holding on his violin and bow in his arms like an infant. The clothes were torn, burned and stained. His neatly tied back hair was loose, making look like a Wildman. Then there were his eyes, which looked out to his audience as if he was on the brink of insanity.

“Performing for the first time since 1836,” Mr. Disc said as his head over to the piano. “My Violinist, Paganini will be playing for you the closing song of this gathering. In a rendition of,” he hopped onto the seat, “The Dance of the Dead.”

Immediately, Harmonic places his violin underneath his chin, but he bent his instrument downward so that the room can get a good look at his left hand. He hunched his back over and lifted his left foot ‘til his toe was only touching the floor.

Then, when the clock hit midnight, the violin chimed out twelve hours. Mr. Disc at his piano playing a few low notes for a couple of bars before Harmonic’s violin suddenly became possessed as it suddenly went to a high-pitched scream that put everyone under a spell. It seemed that nobody moved while the haunting sounds of violin and piano waltzed, screamed and roared like wild beasts.

Both sides showed off from the ghostly stings to the elegant piano that went up and down their celebration of this forgotten music into the night.

Autumn, 3rd Movement.

Early November proved to be cold on the day the Soccer game between the Wondercolts and the Diamond Dogs. On Saturday that they’ve competed, the leaves on the trees had already fallen off the branches, leaving nothing but sticks behind. The wind didn’t help either team from the biting cold, yet, they were committed until the end.

Fortunately, it was one of the few games of the season as far as either team was concerned. Both were looking forward to Thanksgiving break, where they’ll be taking time off inside somewhere warm. However on the wet grass, in perfect weather or not, their soccer match must be taken care of.

In the stands, parents and friends sat side by side in their sweaters, jackets, and hoodies. Among the crowd, two pairs of parents were applauding, clapping and cheering their kids on the field. One of them, the Apples, was the father had on his pair of cowboy boots in a tan jacket while the mother had her black coat on but still left her blond hair uncovered. While the other pair, the Cloudlines, which the mother had on a deep blue hoodie with yellow lightning while the father blew into his hands in hopes that warmth would return.

“Oh come on Hurricane,” the wife in blue said. “It’s not that cold.”

“Says you,” he rubbed his hands, “at least you’re wearing something that has a hood.”

“What? It’s the only thing I have in my closet to show Soarin our support.”

“I know Rain,” her husband put his light blue hands into his pockets. “It’s just I guess I wasn’t dressed for this kind of weather.”

“Y’all don’t think it’ll rain soon?” the blond mother that was sitting next to Rain asked.

Hurricane sniffed the air, “Probably sometime later, but if it does, the game would be long over by then.”

“Hope it doesn’t,” the father in the tan jacket commented. “Don’t wanna have Brae’s first game in years go to waste.”

“I’m sure it won’t Johnnie,” Rain waved it off. “There’s still a good half-hour to go anyway. Besides, are you sure this is your kid’s first game in years? He’s not half bad.”

“Well, he did join the team a month ago,” Braeburn’s mother nodded. “But no matter what, Ah do think this is a turn for the better.”

This got Soarin’s parents attention, “For the better?” Hurricane wondered, “Fuji, what do you mean by that?”

“Have either of you noticed?” Johnnie asked, “Braeburn’s finally comin’ out of his shell here. He’s been on our farm for years, and hadn’t gotten interested in any sports since he was a little fella. Not ta say that he’s quite enjoyin’ himself around your guy’s team.”

“Y'all should have heard ‘em the other day,” Fuji said. “He was really lookin’ forward about playin’ soccer with your son then he is on the farm. Not that it’s a bad thin’, if anythin’, we were startin’ to get worried about ‘em. He’s almost always on the farm, and almost always didn’t want anythin’ to do with school clubs or nothin’. But since July… he’s been goin’ out more with your Soarin.”

“You know, now that you’ve mentioned it,” Rain pulled back her hoodie to uncover her silver hair. “Our kid has been hanging out with Braeburn a little more often now. Oh sure, he still has practice and other friends that he goes to, but lately, he’s been going out with his best friend a lot. I know those two are close, but what’s changed?”

“Who cares,” Braeburn’s father shrugged, “whatever happened, must have been a good thing. Ah mean, he’s somehow a bit happier than ever, so really what more can we ask for?”

“I suppose you’re right,” Hurricane returned to the game.

For a while, both parents had their attention on their sons on the field. Every so often cheering when their team scores a goal or when their kids have the ball.

“What are ya doin’ fer Thanksgivin’?” Fuji asked.

“To be honest,” Hurricane sighed, “We were planning to go westward to have dinner with our relatives.”

“Were?”

“We…” Rain embarrassingly admitted, “We’ve found ourselves a little short on money to go anywhere for Thanksgiving. Oh, we can still buy the stuff for the big dinner, it’s just that we can’t afford to go anywhere at the moment.”

“Ah’m sorry ta hear that,” Johnnie leaned over. “Does that mean you’ll be by yerselves this year?”

“Afraid so,” Hurricane nodded.

The Apple couple looked at each other for a moment. “Excuse us,” Johnnie said, “how about you folks come over for our Thanksgivin'?”

“Sorry?” Rain snapped her attention.

“Ah mean, why not Y'all jus’ come over for our Thanksgivin’, with us Apples?”

“Oh no,” Hurricane shook his head, “We don’t want to intrude-”

“Nonsense,” Braeburn’s mother waved it off. “We wouldn’t mind at all. Why, since this year we’re eating’ at Granny Smiths, there should be plenty of food to place and ta go around! You can jus’ bring over a little somethin’ like rolls or what-have-you over. Now it won’t be fancy or nothin’, but there’ll always be plenty of food leftover.”

“Besides,” Fuji’s husband added, “Ah think that our boys would be more than delighted if you folks were invited over. Besides, since our family is mostly made up of farmers, Ah guarantee that everythin’ will be fresh and made from scratch from the potatoes to the pies.”

Soarin’s parents looked at each other. It was a tempting offer. While they, like every other family, preferred to spend the holiday among the family of uncles, aunts, and cousins that they haven’t seen for some time – they knew that this year won’t be the case. Yet, the parents of their son’s best friend had offered a few spots at their table.

“I guess we’ll give it a shot,” Hurricane said, “Just so that it won’t be just us when the day comes.”

“Perfect,” Johnnie smiled, “Don’t you all worry none, Ah promise that yer in for a treat, especially when we get to dessert.”

_*_

Weeks later, behind the tall curtains back stage once more, Sweetie Drops was nervous. It is the night of the recital, and the auditorium was filling up. Her class had a majority vote that not only would they be going first, but they will do the Beethoven piece to start with.

It wasn’t that the Candy Maker was unprepared. If anything, she already knew each note, trill, and when her foot needs to press which peddles, even though she still bought her the music sheet anyway. Not only that, but Mr. H will be the one conducting so that she won’t get lost in the pacing of it.

“Hey,” her girlfriend whispered, “you think you’re ready?”

“I… I hope so,” she flipped open her little book to the marked page. “Though I admit, I don’t think I’ve played anything like this. I do wish that I’d do okay.”

“C’mon. You’re gonna do better than just okay,” she elbowed her. “You’ve gotten a lot better over this trimester. You’ve always played beautifully.”

“But, what about the mistakes,” Bon Bon wondered as she looked out to the piano at the center of the stage. “What if I mess up?”

“Sweetie,” Lyra placed a hand on her shoulder, “You’d need to have some confidence here. I’ve heard you play before, and I do think you’re ready.”

“How can you be so certain?”

“Remember when I made that portrait of you not too long ago? Where even though I have spent a good two or three hours on that painting, it didn’t look anything like you?” This got her Candy Maker to smile, “Do you remember what you’ve told me when I said that I’ve completely failed?”

“I said that it was pretty because you put your all into it, and that’s what counts.”

“And it’s the same here. I know that you’ve worked hard on this. And who cares if you mess up? To me, it’ll be the most wonderful song that you’ve ever played.”

“It’s seven o’clock,” their Orchestra Teacher said as he walked back stage. “Everyone starts heading out.”

While students stared to make their way towards the stage with their families applauding, Lyra went over to Harmonic and asked, “Hey Mr. H, would you mind if I sat next to Bon Bon while she plays to help turn the pages?”

“Why? Don’t you have a part to play in the opening piece?”

She shook her head, “No, there’s no harp in the Beethoven song. So could I just sit there to turn the pages of her music?”

“Okay, but you two need to get going,” he usurer them onto the stage, in the glaring lights that shown brightly upon the student orchestra. The couple walked over toward the black piano bench that sat beneath the row of pearly white keys and black silken keys. Lyra pulled the bench away from the piano, giving Sweetie Drops room to sit down before she did.

“Let me,” Lyra opened her book to the marked page and placed it on the little stand before their teacher walked on stage.

He instructed for the orchestra to be tuned. Bon Bon pressed the key of her piano in which the strings, wings, and brass had soon adjusted to humming the same notes.

Taking the microphone, Harmonic said, “Hello everyone, welcome to the annual Canterlot High recital. We thank you all for coming out this evening to hear the results of our dedication and hard work over the past several months.

“Our first piece that you’ll be hearing comes from the Second Movement of Beethoven’s Emperor Concerto. This Adagio will be performed by our Pianist, Sweetie Drops, who has put a lot of effort into this, so how about we give her a hand?”

The audience did, and all Bon Bon could muster up is a simple wave.

“Not only her, but this orchestra has surpassed any expectation that I had, especially when they’ve wanted to do this first because out of the two that this particular class has done is the most difficult to play. Yet, I do think that in rehearsals, these kids have done what professional orchestras wish could achieve. So, without further ado, here is the Second Movement, of Beethoven’s 5th Piano Concerto.”

Once the applause has died down and Harmonic on the conductor’s platform, he raised his arms, signaling for the orchestra to ready themselves.

“Bonnie,” Lyra whispered. “Don’t play it for them expecting you to be perfect. Play it for me.”

When the strings harmonized together in a morning glow, like a musical interpenetration of what a sunrise should be, Sweetie Drops closed her eyes as the music from the orchestra washed over. Listening intently to let go of whatever worried her, and focused on the girl sitting next to her. She had to invasion that the spotlight was brighter while the world around them grew dimmer but still heard the music clearly. In her mind’s eye, even when she opened her eyes, she started to daydream that the only thing that existed is the piano, her, and her sweetheart.

Now, this piece that she’d practiced for months wasn’t about something historical or of cultural value. Looking back at the music sheet, she waited for her cue to start. For the moment, this slow descend of the keys was a love song without words.

There was tenderness in every passing bar, but also sincerest as well – where each mellow note was sweeter than marshmallow drops fresh off the copper pot, which created a balanced harmony between her and the orchestra. Even with the higher portions reminded her of the lyre that poetically plucked with grace.

A minute after delightful minute passed, yet to the pianist, it might have been seconds. She wanted to preserve this moment she was expressing to her girlfriend for eternity. When Lyra did turn the page of her book, she took the opportunity to glance over to something as timeless as the day they’ve met.

Yes, she’s been her best friend. But she also had been with her as they grew up, watching her blossoming into something that transcends perfection. Not to mention when she first realized not only what she was, but for whom she fell for, to her, calling Lyra a goddess was an understatement. Being with her, for whatever excuse, was all she needed in her strangeness.

She recalled that while Lyra wasn’t always what some would call normal with her past obsession with unicorns and other mystical creatures, Bon Bon didn’t mind that. Lyra was not just unique with her learning how to play an instrument that few knew how to first, nor her entertaining ideas that she could talk about for hours on end. Rather, to someone like Sweetie Drops, Lyra was happiness in the flesh.

As much as she wanted to go on forever playing, eventually, she ran out of music to play. And the applause from the auditorium brought her back into reality. She looked over to her teacher, who was clapping with a nod of approval.

“That was beautiful Bonnie,” Lyra hugged her. “I told you that you’d do great.”

Sweetie Drops, on the other hand, was relieved that she’d done it. Getting off from the bench, she bowed to the audience before walking off stage, leaving Lyra to take her position at her harp.

“That was very good Ms. Drops,” she was taken by surprise when she found Principal Celestia from the shadow of the curtains. “I’m impressed by your performance.”

“Principal? What are you doing here?”

The tall sunny woman walked out onto the backstage. “For several reasons,” she said. “One of them being that I was running rather late for your guy’s recital, and I promised Harmonic that I would be here, that, and for one other reason.”

“That being?” Bon Bon raised an eyebrow.

“I have a very special request from your students, I intended to ask once Mr. Trotivari was out of earshot.”

“What request?”

Celestia hummed in thought, meanwhile, Harmonic finished his introduction to the next piece that Sweetie Drop’s class was playing and begun conducting. “Alright, it has to do with Christmas that his son and I are conspiring on for your teacher. You see, I’ve learned that his son is going to get married the week before. Yet, at the same time, his son and his fiancé are planning to go out of town after the wedding for a couple weeks, which means that Harmonic will be alone for Christmas. Knowing what has happened this year, I can’t afford him thinking that everyone has abandoned him on the most joyful day of the year.”

“That sucks,” Sweetie commented. “I mean, I’ve heard about that he had a spouse that died back in January. So, this might be the first Christmas where he’ll celebrate without him.”

“Oh, you’ve heard too?” She nodded. “Although he keeps telling me that he’ll be fine. Yet, I know that inside that he’s anything but. This is why I’m lending a hand in organizing something special when the time comes.”

“What are you planning to do?”

Celestia smiled, “When the time comes, I’m hoping to get some of the students, and, maybe a handful of teachers to arrange a surprise Christmas party at his home on the 25th of December. Now grant it, I acknowledge that it probably won’t be easy since not everyone could nor can make it. After all, some of you students may not even be in town, or have other obligations on that day. Yet, I’m hoping to gather enough students and teachers to throw the kind of Christmas that he and his family had done in the past; in this case, an Italian Christmas.”

“Like what? Bringing bowls of pasta and pizza or something?”

“From what I was told by his son, it’s a bit more elaborate, but cooking from his native country does count. More importantly, I was hoping that I could get involve students that have been in his orchestra class to play a carol on his doorstep.”

“Huh. That’s, rather nice of you.”

“I’m just looking out of him is all,” she said, looking out to the Orchestra teacher. “Do you think that you and some of the others would do it?”

“For me, I don’t think I’m going anywhere for Christmas. Although, I can’t really say what everyone else is doing.”

“Understandable,” Celestia nodded. “For the time being, I’ll ask everyone else about it later, but for now, let’s enjoy the music.”

_*_

Across the country, families had made their yearly pilgrimage to see their distant relatives to share in the feast of late autumn. Many would travel by car or by plane, to take the effort of spending a few hours, or a few days, all for the sake on this one day. And that by the time those said relatives get to their destination, they’d expect the delicacies of whatever they had last year to be just as they remembered it. From the most, flavorful turkey with tarty cranberry sauce; to the buttery mash potatoes; the fluffy rolls; the most tender of vegetable casseroles; and the sweetest of pies that all have been prepared, cooked, boiled, bakes, fried, and topped with perfection, all for the sake of this one day.

But for Soarin’s family, who had been invited over to their son’s best friend’s family, they didn’t know what to expect. Even when they got out of the car that was parked across from the apple orchard, with their Wondercolt athlete carrying a bowl of salad and a tray of banana cream pie at the address they were given, all three of them had a cloud of uncertainty over their heads.

“You’re sure that this is the address?” Rain asked, closing the passenger door.

“I think so,” Soarin said as they walked up the dirt road a little way, “Brae told me to look for the sign that says- wait… Sweet Apple Acres! Yep, we’re in the right place.”

“Man, they weren’t kidding, when they said they have a big family.” Hurricane looked at the long line of cars on the side of the dirt road. Some of the licensing plates, he noticed were out of state. “You’d think that we would even find a place to eat?”

“Wouldn’t they invite us if they knew it was going to be this full?” his wife asked. “I’m sure that for a place as big as this, I think they might have at least a table to spare.”

“Don’t worry,” their son turned his head while still kept walking forward, “Brae said that his cousin’s farm is much bigger than his. Plus, I’ve heard that they’ll be eating in the storage barn, and their house that should be enough room for his whole family, and us.”

“If you say so,” his dad sighed, looking throw the lines of already picked apple trees, that was now bare of their leaves as well in the cool air. They could barely make out of the red and white painted barn up head, along with the outline of the house as well on the hill. Once they came to the wide open gate, not only did they found more cars parked around the farm, but they found someone there to greet them.

“Hey Soar,” Braeburn smiled, “Glad Y'all can make it.” He took the dessert that the aqua athlete was carrying, “And hey Mr. and Mrs. Cloudline, how you’ve been?”

“We’re good,” Hurricane said, “Is there still any room in there for us? There looks like there are a lot of people here.”

“Course there is,” the yellow cowboy started walking towards the farmhouse, in which the three of them followed. “Pa has already told the rest of the family that you’d be comin’ over. So yer expected at least.”

“Where are we going?” Soarin’s mother asked.

“To tell ya the truth, we haven’t started yet. The turnkey is takin’ forever, and mah cousins are setting up the chairs in the barn. Besides, there are a few of us Apples that’re runnin’ late. So really, you folks are on time.”

“Is all of your family here?”

“Yes’m, kinda like an unofficial family reunion in a way,” he opened the front door to the farm house, “Jus’ make yerselves at home.” The Cloudline family looked through to find that a living room that was packed with people. The younger relatives of Braeburn were running around in their loud game while the older were telling them to be quite so they could hear what is said about the game on the T.V.

“Brae,” Soarin said lifting the salad bowl, “Where do you want me to put this?”

“Actually, let me take that,” he took the mixed greens with his free hand, “and, would you mind stayin’ out here, I wanna talk to ya.”

“Oh, sure thing man,” after his boyfriend had disappeared in the sea of faces and swam back to the front door, Soarin asked, “What’s up?”

“Not here,” Braeburn guested over to the orchard, “Over there.”

Now he was curious, while Soarin followed him into the depth of the skeleton like forest, he wondered what was it that his best friend wanted to talk about that required being out of earshot and out of sight from everyone.

The farmer stopped suddenly, looking over his shoulder a few times to see that they were alone, he said, “Sorry for the whole cloak and dagger, but Ah wanna talk to yea about somethin’.”

“I’m listening,” Soarin leaned on the bark of a tree. “What’s up?”

“Well… Soar, how long has it been again? That we’d started to really goin’ out?”

The athlete looked down at his hand, “July, August, September, October, November… Five months now. Why?”

“Jus’ think about it fer a moment. Think back to all the dates you’ve ever been on. How long have any of them last?”

“I don’t know… a couple of weeks to… oh.”

Braeburn nodded, “That’s what Ah realized too. This might be the longest relationship you’ve ever had.”

“Well duh, I can easily see that,” he then tilted his head, “Why are you bringing this up?”

“Soar, Ah need ya to be honest with me here,” the yellow Apple rubbed the sleeve of his jacket. “Do ya still wanna keep this goin’?”

“Wait, Brae? You’re not suggesting that we should break up, aren’t ya?”

“No!” he said in surprise, “Soar no! That’s not what Ah’m sayin’. If anythin’… Ah don’t wanna end it. When yer around, you’d always given me a reason ta be happy about. Ah don’t want that to go away. The reason Ah’m bring this up is because Ah’m amazed that it’s lasted for so long. Don’t you see it? The longest relationship with anybody as Ah can remember you bein’ with anyone lasted for a couple of months. But five? Don’t ya think that’s sayin’ something?”

Soarin looked to the side, “I know. Even though I never thought that I would have a boyfriend, yet, giving you a chance and all, I don’t really wanna take it all back.”

“Really?”

He nodded, “Yeah. I admit Brae, when we first started dating, I’ve been questioning myself if I’ve been gay the whole time and not realizing it, or that I’m bi and have never given the chance to be with other guys before you. But you know what?” He put a hand on Braeburn’s shoulder, “I don’t care because, really, you are a great guy. You’re loyal, you listen, give to me things straight, a great athlete, a best friend, and I don’t see a reason why we should break up – because I don’t want to end this. I still want to go on more dates with you. I want to be with you, not because you’re a greater athlete then you give yourself credit for, but for all the little things too.”

“Little things?” the farmer asked.

“Like the way you talk in that Southern drawl. The way you go to great lengths to be together. The way you would stand up for me, like I would do for you. Not to mention that you bake the best apple pie in existence. Really, I’m amazed that no other guy has fallen for you… like I have.”

“And Ah still thank ya all the much fer it,” Braeburn smiled.

Soarin did too before he tilted head, his expression changed to curiosity.

“Soar?”

“Hey,” the Apple cowboy saw that his friend’s blue cheeks had turned pink. “Out of… curiosity. Had you ever… you know…”

“What?”

“Um…” Soarin rubbed the back of his head, “Dude, had you ever… kissed a guy before?”

Braeburn's eyes widened, feeling the blood going straight to his cheeks, “Say what?”

“I mean, I was just thinking. I’ve had a few smooches with a couple of girls before in the past. But, what about you, knowing that you lean towards guys, have you ever kissed anyone before?”

“Well… no,” he shook his head. “Ah would be lyin’ if Ah said that Ah haven’t thought about it. But, Ah have wondered what it would be like.”

“Do you… wanna give it a try?”

Braeburn looked straight in Soarin’s eyes in shock, “Y-You really mean?”

He nodded.

“But… with me?”

“Sure. Grant it, I’ve never kissed a dude either. But I’m wondering what its like.”

“Ah… oh my,” Braeburn backed himself to a tree. “Are ya sure? What if we’re seen?”

Soarin stepped forward with a smirk. “Look around, who’s going to see? I think we’re perfectly safe.” He stopped face to face, placing a hand under his chin. “So, you really never kissed before?”

He shook his head, “But… you sure?”

“With you, I’m more than certain. So... Brae, would you let me?”

Braeburn closed his eyes, licking his lips. “Ah… Ah think Ah’m ready.”

Taking in a breath through his nostrils, a quick wetting of his lips later, Soarin slowly leaned in.

“Braeburn?” both pairs of eyes snapped open at a third, familiar voice. With a sense of dread, they quickly located not only where, but who that the voice was coming from. The Apple farmer’s father and both of Soarin’s parents were present, all three were as wide-eyed and slack-jawed as their sons.

“Pa!”

“Mom! Dad!” Soarin immediately backed away, “H-Hey, didn’t see ya there.”

No response.

“So…” Braeburn started, “Did Y'all need somethin’?”

“As a matter of speaking,” Hurricane began, “Everyone’s ready to eat but you guys disappeared.”

Johnnie stepped forward, “Braeburn Apple, Ah think we need ta have a talk.”

“Same here,” Rain said, “Soarin Cloudline, a word?”

Both boys looked with uncertainty, but the yellow farmer obeyed and followed his father out of earshot while the blue athlete stayed put.

_*_

In truth, Braeburn was never prepared for this. Coming out to someone like his best friend was one thing, having a chunk of the school know about it was another. But for his father walking in on a privet moment, where it was very clear what was taking place to the point that it took little explanation in what was going on, was something that he’d never considered.

Looking over his shoulder to where his boyfriend was, he wondered what were Soarin’s parents saying to him right now. And more urgently, what was his dad going to say… or worst, do to him know that the truth was out in the open air.

“Before Ah say anythin’,” his father began without turning around or stopping. “Ah wanna be clear on somethin’ here. Ah’m not angry.”

“Uh… y- yer not?” Braeburn stuttered.

He shook his head, stopping at a tree and turning to face him. “Confused is more like it. Ah suppose it’s one of those moments where yer not ready for since Ah’m tryin’ to wrap mah head around this. Just… was yer friend really about ta kiss ya?”

His son couldn’t look at him in the eye, feeling the blush on his cheeks. “He…” sighing, he confessed, “yes’m.”

A tense moment passed, where the only sound that was heard was the chilly breeze.

“Braeburn,” his father said at last, “Is there somethin’, yer not tellin’ me?” He could see his son’s eyes shut tight, trying to fight the tears from bursting.

“You… You’ll jus’ get mad at me. Ah j-just know it.”

“Why would Ah be?”

“Please Pa, d-don’t make me say it.” The first trail of sadness ran down his eye, “P-Please don’t hate me.”

Johnnie wrapped his son in his arms, with one hand on the back of his head, “Ah promise, whatever you’d need ta say, there’s no truth too hard that Ah can’t take. But Ah need ta know what is it that you want to tell me?”

Taking in several deep breaths and whipping away his tears, Braeburn spoke, “Ah… Ah’m not… straight. Guess there’s no other way Ah can put this… Pa… A-Ah’m gay.”

There was a sigh from his father, “Son… it’s okay now.”

“But, don’t ya mind?”

“In truth…” he let go of his son. “While this is a little weird then what Ah’m used to, Ah don’t think it’s that big of a deal yer makin' it out ta be. Grant it, Ah never seen this comin’ when Ah should have had. After all, Ah was worried that you’d might end up with a nasty girlfriend.” His father chuckled, but Braeburn was still on edge to laugh. “But in all honesty, this doesn’t change a thing between us.” This got his son’s attention, “Though Ah can’t help but think, how come it took ya so long to tell me or yer Ma about this?”

Braeburn looked at the ground, “Cause… Ah’m afraid.”

“How so?”

“Pa, Ah ain’t stupid,” he shook his head. “Ah knew- Ah thought that if ya found out that Ah’m… you know, that you would kick me out and say that Ah’m not yer son no more.”

“Brae,” Johnnie placed both hands on his shoulders, “Who put that idea in yer head?”

“Ah’ve heard about kids like me Pa. In how that when their parents found out, they… did awful things to them like leavin’ them homeless with only the shirts on their backs. Or if they didn’t kick them out, they would beat them, call them the worst names, even… have them raped ta make them ‘normal.’ Or sometimes they’d would send their kids ta camps ta change them, usin’ methods that don’t work but still leaven them scarred fer life. And these families were somethin’ like us Pa! Devout to their political and religious beliefs so much that they would rather have their own children destroyed then love them. And how couldn’t Ah think but wonder if somethin’ like that were ta happen ta me too?”

His father took a moment to let what his son had told him to sink in. “Are you really that scared of us?”

“It’s jus’ that Ah has no idea how you and Ma would react if you’d know, particularly with Soarin.”

Johnnie looked up to where the Cloudline’s were, “How long has this been goin’ on? With yer best friend Ah mean.”

Braeburn rubbed the back of his neck, “Ah’ve had a crush on ‘em fer a long time, but it wasn’t until recently that he started to go out with me.”

“How long was recent?”

“July.”

“Oh…” his father put a hand underneath his mustache, “That explains a few things.”

“Huh?” his son snapped in attention, “Explain what?”

“Well,” Johnnie sat down on a log, and guested for his son to sit next to him. “Yer Ma and Ah have noticed a change in ya. Fer you see, up until this year, you were almost always confined to the farm. Not it’s a bad thing, except, ya didn’t have much of a life outside of it. No sports, school clubs, or goin’ out with friends even, and even if when it did, they were rare. Then suddenly, with you goin’ out with Soarin more often… you wanted to know what good movies are out, or how you could join that soccer team, or even where’s the best place fer a hamburger are. It’s like you’ve expanded yer horizons all of the sudden, and that you were so excited about it. Not only that, but we’ve noticed that yer a lot happier than befor’, and whatever was happenin’ ta make you like this, why interfere?”

“So, Y'all are okay if Ah’m goin’ out with Soarin? Even if he’s a guy?”

“Brae, Ah’m gonna tell ya something’ that Ah’d need to promise me you’d won’t repeat to Granny Smith about, ya hear?” he nodded. “There’s a reason why Ah haven’t blown up over this issue, and that all have ta do with yer grandpa. Ya see yours and my generation has grown up believin’ that everybody’s created equal. When Ah was yer age, the Civil Rights Movement was at its peak in that schools were desegregated, voting rights were reformed, and, if you’d believe it, racial marriage laws were abolished, makin’ anyone from any race marries each other. Now-a-day’s it ain’t an issue anymore, but when Ah was growin’ up, it was a big hot button topic.

“At the time, when Ah was a little older than ya, Ah had fully embraced the whole equality thing. Mah dad, yer grandpa, did not. Ah remember one day that we got into a huge argument over this. Yer lucky that yer weren’t even born then, ‘cause ya don’t wanna know half of what we said to each other. Yet, Ah had to object because, back then, yer grandpa was a bigot. He used ta think that segregation was not only traditional, but a good thing because it keeps certain people out of trouble.” Here, Braeburn’s dad turned aside spat on the ground.

“Course,” he continued, “he did change his mind, but it would only come years later. He did become a good deal kinder in his later years. Yet, when we talked about what happened all those years ago, he only looked back with embarrassment that he said all those things. Ah made a promise to mahself that Ah wouldn’t be like that so Ah wouldn’t do the same.

“The thing is with us Apples, we’re a practical family. We only get inta things that affect us directly. Which Ah guess is more or less the reasons that almost none of us talked about the whole Gay Rights thing that, while we heard both sides of the issue, we don’t say anythin’ because the whole thing never affected us directly. Or at least... so Ah thought.

“While Ah personally have heard both sides of the issue, Ah couldn’t help but think that, ‘We’ve been over this already with the Civil Right Movement! We’d know what the answer is so this shouldn’t be an issue.’” He shook his head, “Guess that bigots won’t go away, Ah suppose.” He turned to his son, “Sorry that Ah’ve been ramblin’ on like that. It’s jus’ that even to this day, this still gets ta me.”

“At least Ah get ta see where Ah get ma strong opinions from,” Braeburn joked, in which the two of them laughed.

After his laughter died down, his father took on a more serious expression, “But seriously, as a Pa, while Ah may not completely wrap mah head around how yer… attracted to him, Ah think Ah do see why. Ah admit, Soarin’s always been a good kid. If he somehow gotten you out of yer shell, he must have done somethin’ right. But at the same time, regardless if he’s a he or a she, all Ah can say fer ya is, be careful.”

“Thanks, dad,” his son hugged him once more. “But, yer not gonna tell Ma about this, are ya?”

“Knowing her, she’ll find out sooner or later. Though, Ah can’t say if she’s as open-minded as Ah am. Ah won’t tell her right away, but when the time is right, Ah will. But don’t you worry now, even if she doesn’t approve, you still got me.” He looked over at the other parents, “It looks like they’re wrapping up. Now come on, we’re late for dinner as it is.”

_*_

While Braeburn walked away with his father, no doubt to talk about something uncomfortable, Soarin froze into place as his parents came up to him to have their own confrontation.

All he could do was stand there, heart pounding; he felt like a little kid again that was caught sneaking out of his room after bedtime.

“Did… Did we… miss something?” his father spoke first. “I think we missed something.”

When their son didn’t respond, her mother stepped forward, “Soar, what’s going on between you and Braeburn?”

“It’s um…” the blue athlete rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s complicated.”

“Is it?” Rain raised an eyebrow.

“You just… you just wouldn’t understand.”

“Try us,” Hurricane folded his arms. “Why were you about to smooch your own best friend?”

“Um…” Soarin trailed off in embarrassment, “H-How long where you are guys standing there?”

“We just walked up and saw your friend’s back against the tree.” His father answered, “If I didn’t know any better, it looked as if you were about to do all the kissing.”

His mother approached her son, but he turned his back, “Hon,” his mother said, “Is there something about you and Braeburn that you’re not telling us.” When he didn’t answer, Rain asked the ever pressing question, “Are you two dating?”

“.... Maybe.”

Both parent’s eyes widen, they looked at each other for a moment before returning to their child. “How long?” Hurricane asked. Their son held up his hand, showing all five fingers, “Days?”

Soarin shook his head, “Weeks?” his mother inquired, but he shook again, “Years?”

“Months,” he corrected them. “I’ve been going out with Braeburn, in secret, for five months now.”

“But, why?” Hurricane wondered. “You’ve always had been going out with the girls, but now this? What’s going on?”

Soarin looked up at them, while he didn’t see anger or disappointment, what he did see on their faces was confusion. “Look, I don’t know how well I can explain this but… For a couple of years, I knew that Brae was gay since he trusted me enough to be the first person to know. He’s no way open about it at all, and I didn’t realize that the dude had feelings for me since Jr. High or something like that. Yet, he never told me his crush on me for a long time, just because he worried what I would think of it. Do you remember when I started with those music lessons at Mr. H’s?”

They nodded and he continued, “Since me and Brae had our lessons that were right next to each other, I got curious to see what it was like for him. Well… I hid away while Mr. H was teaching him to play this love song, and he told him to envision the very guy that he’s in love with, and… he said my name. You would think that I would be weirded out by it, but the thing is… it didn’t. I was captivated in him putting his all into the song that I came out of hiding.

“Not to say that I had a talk with him about it. He told me that he kept what he really thought of me for so long because he was really afraid of losing me over it. That he never even dated anyone before because he always wanted to be near me. The guy was on the edge of tears when he told me, apologizing for even liking me. It was just… so unfair for him, while I have been trying to find which girl would be my… well, girlfriend, he never even gotten the chance to even ask anyone out.

“So… I asked him out. On the Fourth of July, we sat there on a hill in the orchard where he set this whole picnic up just for us to watch the fireworks. I did thought it would be just this one-time thing but… the truth is… I wanted more. Not to say that I’ve wondered if I’m really gay or bi, but as each date went by, I didn’t really care. I just gave him a chance, like I would with my other girlfriends.”

Soarin leaned on the bark of the tree, “And since then, Braeburn was an unexpected surprise. He went of his way in time and money to really show how much he cares about me. Like him joining the Wondercolts, all that was because he wanted to be near me. And when we had Thunderlane that was about to beat his face in was when I realized how much I cared for him back. Although I got punched, Braeburn got back on his feet to defend me.

“So… as weird as it sounds… I’ve fallen in love with a dude.”

His dad put a hand to his head, sighing, “Well, this is certainly unexpected.”

“But I guess that leads to the all-important question,” Soarin’s mother asked, “How come you never told either of us before?”

“Oh, great idea mom,” he deadpanned. His words dripping with sarcasm, “I would just say, ‘Hey guys, I gotta go on another date with my boyfriend, will be back by eleven!’ Oh yeah, you guys are going to take it so well.”

“Actually, I would say ‘Have fun you two and don’t forget to be safe.’”

It took Soarin a good solid minute to register what he just heard before he turned to her, “What?” he turned to his dad, “You heard her too, right?”

“Tell me,” Rain said, “You said that you started to really start dating back in July right? Do you really want to continue this with Braeburn?”

“I do, but how come you’re not exactly, you know, weirded out, angry or anything?”

“Well, I do admit that I am a bit disappointed that you haven’t told me or your father about this. However, from what you’ve told us, I think that your friend must be doing something right.”

“It’s kinda impressive in a way,” Hurricane admitted, “Not even my dates in High School lasted for nearly half-a-year.”

Soarin looked back and forth between his parents gawking, “So… you’re actually okay with this?”

At this moment, his dad walked over to the tree to put an arm around him, “First two rules in parenting: Make sure your kid is safe, and make sure they’re happy. I admit, this is going to take time on my part to get used to learning about you and your friend. But if you’re really want to keep going on dates him and if it makes you all the happier, what do I have to complain about? Besides, it’s Braeburn. If it were some other girl that we hardly know about, naturally we would be suspicious. Yet, with your friend, we know enough that he’s a good kid at heart. Still,” he looked at his son in the eye sternly, “if he does something to you that you’re not comfortable with, tell us immediately. I don’t care if it’s a she, or a he, I don’t want you to be taken advantage of.”

Soarin turned to his mother, “But, what about you? Why are you fine with this?”

She sighed, “Soarin, have you ever wondered why you’ve never got to meet my dad, your other grandpa?” he shook his head. “Before I met your dad, the family that I grew up with wasn’t what you would call, ‘functional’, especially when my dad wasn’t exactly right in the head all the time. Don’t get me wrong, your grandpa Skyler wasn’t all that bad, he loved all of us but, he wasn’t normal compared to other dads that I knew. I found out later on that he was actually schizophrenic. I remember his odd behaviors like he was a huge clean freak where if he comes home at night to find even one thing out of place in say, in the pantry, he would throw everything off the shelves onto the ground wake everyone up and tell us to pick his mess up.

“Also, my dad was very controlling over our lives and he would get upset if we didn’t do things his way. So, when I got to engage with your father, your grandpa called me up, yelled at me for ‘abandoning’ him for Hurricane, and that if I didn’t break it off right there and then, he would disown me. I don’t think I was any angrier in my life when I screamed back and slammed the phone on him.” Here, her husband placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“I don’t know if you remember going to your grandpa Skyler’s funeral, but I don’t think you would since you were little at the time, but when I heard about the news that he died, I never cried. Not ever once for what he said and did to not just me, but to your other Aunts and Uncles too when they got married. Soarin, I’m not, ever, going to do what he did to me. I still love you too much to even do something so cruel.

“And besides,” she smiled, “I think your friend is rather cute.”

“Mom!” Soarin objected, trying to hide his blush, “Don’t say things like that!”

They heard a crunch of leaves that was heading their way. The three of them turned to see Braeburn and his dad coming up to them.

“Ah suppose you folks come to terms with your son too?” Johnnie asked.

“Actually,” Hurricane nodded, “I think we were just done. Oh, and Brae,” the yellow Apple looked up, “How about you come over to dinner say… Next Saturday?”

Braeburn’s eyes widen. Looking over to his father, he gave a nod. “Ah… Ah would like that.”

“Welp,” Johnnie looked at his watch, “Ah think we’ve wasted enough time as it is. Let’s get straight to what we’ve come for already.” They all agreed and started to make their way to the Barn.

“Hey Pa,” Braeburn said.

“Hm?”

“Thank ya,” he said, reaching out for Soarin’s hand, “Fer givin’ me some peace of mind.”

Soarin took hold of his boyfriend’s hand, “Mom, dad? Thanks for understanding.”

“You’re welcome,” Rain said with a smile.

Winter, 1st Movement.

Author's Note

I don't know how good this chapter is, but here you go.

Winter, 1st Movement.

A new trimester had rolled in, and so did the frost. December brought bitter but expected winds, along with the heavy gray clouds that threaten to bring a blizzard. Yet, from this grim weather, the whole school, if not most of the town, had already set up long lines of lights from anywhere they could hang them from. From lamp posts to roofs and windows, walls and fences, people who found the time to decorate their trees and homes in colors of whites, golds, greens, reds, icy blues, and blinding violets.

In Canterlot High, paper snowflakes hung from the ceiling, and seemingly miles of shiny green fake garland draped above the lockers with red bows every so feet. Even in some classrooms on the desks of many teachers, there stood a tiny plastic tree, which the teachers decorated it however they wanted.

However, what was unusual this December, was that the teachers, and students who had been in Mr. Trotivari’s class or have known him, were invited an after-school meeting with Principal Celestia. The invitation made it clear that those who wished to help give their fellow teacher a Christmas he deserved must volunteer to it, and if they were interested, they were required to meet in the school’s auditorium to discuss it.

When the last bell of the day rang, a group of twenty students and a handful of teachers came by the time Celestia went up to the microphone. “Thank you all for coming,” she said. “Before we get started, I need to make it clear that what we’re asking here is a bit much. No doubt that all of you have obligations to your families around Christmas Break, and that’s completely understandable. After all, it’s a time when we drew close to those we know and love to celebrate a holiday that’s dedicated to that.

“However, for Harmonic Trotivari, who you may know him as a friend, coworker, or maybe as someone that has taught you, he doesn’t have that this year. About a year ago, his spouse has passed away, and his son is going to get married soon. Since his son is going to be away on the 25th, it will make it impossible to spend time with his father. This means, unless we do something, this will be a Christmas where he’ll be completely alone. He’s not expecting anything else as of late, not even doing the family traditions that he celebrates because to him, this year will be completely unreasonable.

“But this is where all of you come in if you’re dedicated to doing this, we will give him a Christmas that shows as a school, and as friends, how much we do care about him. As I’ve said, this has to be volunteer only, because it will all happen on Christmas day. If you have any doubt that doing this, you may leave now.”

Students and teachers alike turned to one another, many of them talked about whether or not they want to go with it.

“What ya think?” Lyra asked, “Do you think we could even do it, especially on Christmas?”

“Ah think it’s possible,” Braeburn thought aloud, “Mah family ain’t goin’ anywhere out of town.”

“Same here,” Bon Bon leaned back in her seat. “Although I might wanna check in with my parents about it, I do think I can do it. You?”

“I’m not sure,” her girlfriend admitted. “Other than opening presents and the whole dinner thing, that’s pretty much all we do.”

“Why not try convincing our folks to go with us?” Soarin suggested.

“Can we do that?”

“It might help a bit,” Braeburn rubbed his chin. “'Sides, even if it turned out that not many of these guys could come, what difference would it make if we celebrate it at our home, or at Mr. H’s?”

“He does have a point,” Sweetie Drops said. “Besides, even if nobody helps, at least we should step in. Heck, he helped all four of us out, so why not return a favor?”

The four of them agreed. A few minutes later, a couple of students had got up and left, but still leave behind a reasonably amount of students around. As for the teachers, not one of them had left.

“So, is everyone dedicated to doing this?” Celestia asked. Soarin raised his hand, “Yes?”

“Could we bring our families into this too?”

“I don’t see why not. The more the merrier.”

Spitfire asked, “Principal, what exactly are we doing anyway?”

“Well, I have spoken to Harmonic’s son earlier. He told me that each Christmas was Italian themed, in which that he would sing a carol in his native language, and get involved in cooking a meal entirely from scratch. So, I have a bit of a proposal, since I know your students have been in his orchestra class, perhaps I could lend to you guys a room at the school to practice one song. The idea behind that is that on Christmas morning, we’re gonna go over there to do a unique kind of caroling, that not only would you play your instruments, but I was hoping one of you would take up the task of singing that same song in Italian.”

Even with the murmurs in the room, Celestia wasn’t quite finished, “Also, but more importantly, we plan a surprise Christmas party where we bring the most authentic Italian food that we can bring to his house. Preferably, try to make something that has little or not involving anything that’s been canned.”

“Ooh boy,” Mr. Disc rubbed the top of his head, “To tell ya the truth boss, I can make things appear with the snap of a finger, but at least I have to have a good idea what exactly I bring into existence. I’m not saying that it’s impossible, I can do all the catering, but I have to do a bit of research first.”

“Fair enough,” she nodded. “So I’ll leave to you students now. Do you think you’ll be able to memorize a song in time?”

“What if we did something simple?” one of the students asked, “Something that we all know that we can play and this soon.”

“Like what?”

It was then, that Lyra snapped her fingers, “I think I have an idea.”

_*_

“…. I pronounce you, husband and wife,” the priest said before turning to Script, “You may kiss the bride.”

There was applause when Script and Page kissed, making their marriage official. Most of the guests were made up of friends and family of the bride. While on Script’s side, there were a handful of friends, plus his father that ranted the hotel Ball Room in cheers. Harmonic, however, only clapped his hands, but not cracking a smile.

Yet, all around the room, the labor of the Violinist was shown, from the tables to the tall evergreen, the catering, and even the bride’s gown showed off the amount of effort he put in for this wedding. Pine wreaths and lines of holly, garland, crimson ribbons, white lights, red and gold glass ornaments, and tablecloths of red cloths embroiled in golden threads were all over the room. At the very spot where his son shared a kiss with his wife underneath an arched gate, Harmonic added some fresh mistletoe as a nice touch.

Soon, the newly-weds were swarmed with congratulations from friends and family. When the couple came to Harmonic, Script said, “Thanks so much for this dad.”

He shrugged, “You’re quite welcome. I think that it turned out all very well.”

“I’ll say,” Page smiled, “This is all beautiful. We can’t thank you enough for all you’ve done.”

“All I did was pulled a few strings here and there. Still, I may not show it, but I’m very happy for both of you, and wish that your marriage will forever remain happy.”

His son frowned, “Dad, I think it’s obvious that you’re thinking about Pa. Just-”

“Son,” his father interrupted, “I’m going to give you both some advice that you need to promise me and each other you will keep.”

“And what’s that?” Page asked.

“Take good care of each other,” he said. “Treat the other as if they’re royalty. Hold on to every happy moment you both create because neither of you has no idea how precious your significant other really is,” Harmonic looked down, adding, “until you lose them.”

Script pulled up a seat next to his father, “Dad, I know you’re still hurt, well, so am I. But I’ve moved on. I mean, Page is my wife now and we have to think about what to do now that we’re together. Do you remember what Pa had asked you, the very last thing?”

“About moving on?”

He nodded, “He didn’t say to forget him entirely. I haven’t, but that shouldn’t hold either of us back. I know you’ve made progress with teaching, but what’s keeping you back from fulfilling that promise you made to him?”

“Script, I just don’t want to talk about this.” His father looked up, putting an arm around his shoulder, “This is your day. I don’t want the subject of Color to sour it all. So don’t worry about me. We still have an after party to set up before you two head off for New York. I’ll go tell them to bring out the food and cake, while you two go get my violin.”

Several minutes later, food was indeed brought out along with a punch bowl of floating lemon, lime, and orange slices. Small appetizers and desserts were brought forth from rolls to cookies. Yet, in the very center in three layers of candy cane lines of red and white was the cake itself.

Harmonic’s son did bring the violin case over to his father, who he sat it down on a platform where the microphone and speakers were being wired up while everyone else was starting to eat the snacks.

Once everyone has already settled down, the Violinist took out his instrument and rosin up his bow. Tapping on the microphone, he said, “Good afternoon everyone, I thank you all for coming to my son’s wedding. I’m quite proud of not only that Script has found someone, but has after several years of dating, have gotten the chance to marry the one he loves.” There was polite applause for a moment.

He continued, “While I’m up here, I want to take a moment to talk about the bride. Page has made quite an impression on my son over the years. She has been supportive of Script’s passion for writing as she is to begin a teaching career. Not to say that she’s the first critic that he faces as well his biggest fan when it comes to his stories. Page has a characteristic in which both my son and I admire, and that is she is optimistic about the future and is willing to work hard to make her dreams come true.

“So, if I can invite the newlyweds up for their slow dance, I would like to play for them a little something on this old violin of mine. To tell you the truth, out of all the things I have helped with setting this up, the song for the slow dance was for me the most difficult to decide. But then on the radio, I’ve heard a song that made me say, ‘Of course, that’s it!’ Because the very tune that they played is actually the oldest love song in the English language ever recorded. A timeless tune called, Greensleeves.”

The newly married couple made up to the space between the platform and the ring of tables. Harmonic lifted up his bow to play out a familiar tune in his own fashion of double-steps and trills. From the small, wooden instrument, a fantasy had played out while his son and his wife waltzed. From this ancient music, the Violinist dreamed of a similar time similar to this day. His eyes watched on the peaceful smiles and love-struck stairs of the couple, and mentally recalled of a similar time when he too was that happy.

For a moment, he thought he saw Color’s look of optimistic hope of the future on his son’s face.

With the last down-bow of the final note, the Ballroom applauded, both for the father’s performance and for the newlywed’s dance.

As time went on, the numbers of the wedding party had dwindled until all remained behind was the Violinist himself, and the couple. “Hey dad,” Script said, “Thanks for the music, and everything else.”

His father waved it off, “Please, I would gladly do it again if I had to.”

Page went up to Harmonic and hugged, “It was magical. We should repay the favor sometime.”

“Oh come, come,” her father-in-law shook his head, “You both know you don’t have to repay me anything.”

“Very well,” his son said, “Then I guess you won’t need your Christmas present after all.”

The Violinist blinked, “Pardon?”

“Oh nothing, since we’re not going to be home for Christmas, I thought I might wanna send you a little something while we’re away.”

His father tilted his head, “Like what? Did you buy me something?”

“Not exactly, but it is a present that we’ve got for you.”

“Where is it?”

“You’ll see,” Page gave a cocky grin. “Let’s just say that it’s on its way now.”

Harmonic tried to gain some kind of clue on what they were talking about, but it was to no use. As they walked out of the hotel, a car was waiting for them to take them to their home before going to the airport. They said their goodbyes and exchanged hugs before the couple left.

Sighing, the Violinist looked up at the sky of falling snow, ‘Well,’ he thought, ‘Here I go again.’

_*_

Harmonic woke up alone in his bed. Looking over to the nightstand, the clock told him that it was nine in the morning, the day was December the 25th, and all was quiet in his house. In front of him, was the shrouded portrait, which pale light of morning beamed thin lights from the shaded window.

Sighing, the Orchestra teacher rolled out of bed, and did his usual morning routine of a morning shower, a quick shave, and putting on his bath robe and slippers before he went downstairs. In the cool light, he spotted the decorated tree where all the lights were off that underneath were very few presents. It was almost that his Living Room was like an empty set on a stage, in an equally empty theater.

The first thing that came to his mind was the word: absent. For in that silent house, it was absent of everything that made this day so special. There was no family that was eager to open presents. No joyful music that was being played to the off-key laughter when a funny gift was opened. No unwrapping of candy wrappers that once filled the stalking. No huge mess to clean up after the colorful paper had been ripped apart. No son that had the excitement and anticipation of seeing the reaction of opening the gifts he gave him. And above all, the room was absent of his husband with a pot of hot chocolate that he prepared earlier, that waited for everyone else to come.

“Buon Natale, il mio più caro marito,” He said softly before slumping into his favorite chair. In the stillness, he glanced over to the fireplace, on the spot where Color had sat a year ago. He almost refused to believe that it really has been a year that he had come back home from his tour to spend Christmas with his family, only to be the last for his husband; for the next day to find out that he had only a few weeks to live.

For a brief moment, his mind daydreamed that the room was filled with light, the mantle with warmth, and his family was together once more. By the tree, he could almost see his son and his wife opening the presents he got for them. And by his side, Color sat, in full health and saying back to him, “Marry Christmas to you too Harm.”

Yet, he blinked a few times, and the fantasy had died away.

Deciding that he wasn’t going to just sit there all morning, he whipped the tear from his eye and headed towards the kitchen to make some an uneventful breakfast. After sitting back down in his armchair with a bowl of cereal in hand, he munched away in silence.

‘I should probably call Script in a few hours,’ he thought, ‘just to see how they’re doing over there. But… what do I after that? There’s no big dinner to set up, or songs to play much less to sing about. Not to mention that a good chunk of the town is shutdown… Perhaps I could treat myself to a movie or something. Maybe I could gather up the mental strength to visit Color’s grave, but I’m not sure what to bring him.’

He looked up from his bowl for a brief moment, looking at the tree that stood in front of the window. In this light, the colors on the tree were muted of its blues and silver glass orbs that hung from the dark green tree. Before he returned to his humble meal, his eye caught a glimpse of a dashing shadow from the drawn window.

Setting the bowl on his piano, he got up to investigate, tying his robe shut from the cold before opening the front door.

There was no one there.

“Hello?” he called out. But looking around from his line of vision, all he could see along the street was snow and a bunch of cars that lined up all along the sidewalk. “Weird,” he said to himself before closing the door.

But no sooner as he done that, Harmonic began to hear an unusual sound. At first, it started so softly that if he didn’t stop completely to take a listen, he might have missed it completely. At first, it sounded like violins and violas were playing, while at the same time were joined by a tiny choir.

“Astro del ciel, Pargol divin,” he knew that tune. Even in his childhood days in Italy, he knew exactly what that song was, “mite Agnello Redentor!” Harmonic turned around to open the door, in which the music became clear.

“Tu che i Vati da lungi sognar, Tu che angeliche voci nunziar, luce dona alle genti pace infondi nei cuor!”

Even when he looked around, he didn’t see anyone, but the sound was coming from near his garage. As he walked out to the unshoveled driveway, the instruments were joined with more violas and cellos.

“Astro del ciel, Pargol divin, mite Agnello Redentor!” as he walked out, he found that hid driveway wasn’t empty at all. To his stunned surprise, there was a small group of his students, made up of strings, including a waiting double bass, a clarinet player, a harp, and one had a pair of jingle bells. While those who weren’t playing instruments stood there in the cold singing the best they could to pronounce the words of his native tongue from the sheets of paper. “Tu di stirpe regale decor, Tu virgineo, mistico fior, luce dona alle genti, pace infondi nei cuor!”

Harmonic also noticed that he apart from the people he did recognize such as his bosses, a handful of teachers, Lyra, Sweetie Drops, Soarin and Braeburn, there were a couple of people that he had no idea who they were while they sang the last verse in which the double bass, clarinet, harp, and bells joined in.

“Astro del ciel, Pargol divin, mite Agnello Redentor! Tu disceso a scontare l'error, Tu sol nato a parlare d'amor, luce dona alle menti, pace infondi nei cuor!”

When the third verse was finished, there was a pause from both Harmonic and those who knew him. But the Orchestra teacher spoke first, “What’s going on?”

Mr. Disc stepped out, lighting his music sheet on fire for warmth. “Well, let me give it to you straight, both of our bosses felt sorry for ya that you’re all alone for Christmas so she sends us to help cheer you up.”

He looked over to the carolers for a moment, “By cheering me up you mean you all came over here just to sing me Silent Night in Italian?”

“Not exactly, we’re here for the party.”

Harmonic blinked, “Party? What are ya taking about?”

Julius turned to the group, “I’ll take that as a yes, now come on,” he snapped his fingers, “Get all the food out of my car! C’mon, they won’t stay fresh forever, let’s go!”

The group made for Mr. Disc’s car where they pulled out fresh tomatoes, salad greens, peppers, capers, spices, pizza dough, fresh noodles, pots, pans, spatulas, eggs, milk, Parmesan, mozzarella, knives, plates, forks, tables, chairs, tablecloths, cups, bottles of wine, bottles of Italian sodas, spring water, chocolate bars, chocolate chips, heavy cream, butter, salt and pepper, olive oil, balsamic vinegar, tree nuts, strawberries, oranges, limes, lemons, bread sticks, apples, and a grocery store worth of ingredients.

Harmonic himself was helpless to stop the flowing river of people that entered his home with all the supplies and food, and most headed straight towards the crowded kitchen to begin cooking.

The Violinist caught up with his bosses, “Celestia, Luna, what is going on? What are they doing? Don’t any of them have some other place to be?”

“They all volunteered,” Luna said, “even some of them had dragged their families along for this.”

“But what are they doing?”

“Script said that you guys have done an Italian Christmas,” Celestia clarified. “So we’re pitching in so that you won’t be alone today when friends and family matter most.”

“So you invited the school over and probably their families over here?”

“Problem?”

Harmonic looked down at his bathrobe, “For starters, I’m not even decent, and secondly, I didn’t ask for any of this.”

“Who says we need permission to cheer you up? Now hold this,” Luna handed him a cheese wheel. “I think there are still a few more things in Mr. Disc’s car.”

“There’s more!”

“Hey Mr. H,” he turned to Sweetie Drops setting up and rearranging chairs in his living room, “Merry Christmas.”

“Excuse me, Bon Bon, but do you happen to know how many people are here?”

“Let me think…” she put her hand underneath her chin. “There were nine who played the instruments, and twenty of us that sang plus the Apples, Couldlines, my mom and Lyra’s dad and… three other parents so that makes…” she counted on her hands. “Forty if you included the principals.”

Harmonic couldn’t believe what he was hearing, so much so, that he gave the candy maker the cheese wheel and said, “I’m just gonna go upstairs for a while.”

_*_

“Hey, has anyone seen Mr. H?” Soarin asked. Although it took almost all morning, everyone was ready for the big feast as the impromptu party had finished setting up everything.

Braeburn looked around, noticing the absent teacher as well. “Now you’ve mentioned it, where is he?”

“I think he said something about going up stairs,” Bon Bon said. “Don’t know what for. Mind if one of you head up there and tell him that this whole lunch/dinner thing is ready?”

The farmer was the first to ascend the stairs as well as Soarin. In all the times they have been to their teacher’s home, never once have they ever venture to go upstairs. At the top, they heard a muffled conversation from their Orchestra teacher that was coming behind a closed door.

“-id this happen?” they heard Harmonic’s voice say, “A year ago, you were still here, I was having a great life with you. And then a year later, I found myself being invaded by my own students, bosses, and coworkers. Oh! And to top it off, Script somehow orchestrated this. I mean… what would you have said if you were still here?”

“Who the hay is he talkin’ to,” Braeburn asked what was on their minds.

“I know… I know… I should be grateful a bit here. They’re trying to make me happy again, trying to present a Christmas that we had on an industrial scale. They even went out of their way of singing, (okay, at least tried to sing) in Italian like how I used to. Clearly they’ve put all this effort into making this but… Color, it’s just… it’s not the same.” Their teacher sighed, “Why did you have to go? I mean, I understand you were not well and the doctors clearly said there was nothing they could do but… Oh, how do I say this without sounding selfish? Would it have been possible if you lived just a little longer? You were just gone too soon, your art had died too young, and I… I wasn’t ready to let go.”

Then, behind the door, they heard a sob, “I guess I’m still not. With you gone, what’s more to life to even contribute? What good have I done that could have brightened after your death? In the course of a year, I’ve done nothing! You made me a promise to be happy again by sharing it, and I’ve done nothing! I haven’t done a single damn thing, to spread that happiness you’ve given me! I’m no more different now than I was a year ago!”

For the farmer, he thought that this wasn’t a good time to even let him know that dinner was ready. His boyfriend, however, breathing in a sense of determination, walked over to the door. “Soar? What are ya doin’?”

He didn’t answer as he opened up the door. They found Harmonic on the bed, with one hand over his eyes and another on a framed picture. When Soarin opened the door, he said calmly but solemnly, “Mr. H, you’re wrong.”

Their teacher looked up, “Soarin, now’s not-”

“No! You listen to me,” his student cut him off. “Dude, I get that having Color gone sucks. I get that you’re really missing him. But you’re wrong that you’ve done nothing, because, in case you haven’t noticed, you have.”

“In what,” Harmonic questioned, “All I’ve done is teach music.”

“But if it weren’t for you,” Soarin pointed over to his boyfriend, “I and Brae would probably not be dating now. Not to mention that Lyra and Bon Bon wouldn’t have figured out the whole college thing, and I know this because that was the reason they’ve come here. I don’t know what you’ve been telling yourself, but believe it or not, you’re not just a good teacher, but we want to consider you as a great friend because you’ve helped us out when we’ve needed it. In a way, that’s what this whole party is about, we’re thanking you for all you’ve done, even when your spouse has died. So don’t give me all of that ‘I haven’t done a damn thing’ crap because you’ve been a huge help to us!”

Sighing, the blue athlete sat down next to his teacher, “Look, I’m sorry I yelled Mr. H. But even when the love of your life is gone, you’ve been so selfless when it came to us. I mean, it just seemed unfair that you would be alone on Christmas when you’ve given us useful advice at a time that we had nobody else to turn to. So, don’t think of yourself any less because even when you don’t see it, Brae and I are happier than ever. For that, I wanna thank ya for it.”

Harmonic whipped away the straying tears from his face, “You really mean that?”

“He’s right,” Braeburn entered the room. “Since that summer, not only Ah get to date who Ah love, but was able ta have a life outside of the farm, and be mah true self both at school, and in-front of mah family. We owe it to ya that if ya didn’t, there’s no tellin’ what would have to happen.” The cowboy spotted the framed picture on the bed that was lying face down. “What’s that?”

“Huh?” he looked over to the painting. Picking it up, he put it on his lap, “The last thing that Color ever made.”

Soarin and Braeburn looked over to the unfinished family portrait and gazed for the first time on the face of their teacher’s deceased husband. “Oh... So that’s what he looked like,” the Apple farmer commented.

Harmonic laughed sadly, “Indeed.”

“Who’s in the middle?” Soarin pointed to the sketch that was between the two figures.

“That’s my son,” he answered. “Our boy has grown up fast since the day we’ve adopted him. Come to think of it… tomorrow would mark his… has it been fourteen years now already? My… time has really gone by quickly. Yes, tomorrow would mark the fourteen years that Color and I have been fathers to him.”

“Ah recon you’ve done a good job at it,” Braeburn said. This got the Violinist’s attention and asked him what he meant by that, “Well, think about it, would yer kid really go out of his way to contact the Principal ta put this whole shindig together? If yer weren’t, he probably wouldn’t bother. Guess it’s his way of sayin’ thanks as well.”

“I…” Harmonic sighed, “You’re right. You’re both right. I guess I’m not used to spontaneous guests that come and cook dinner for me. Speaking of which, nobody’s burned down the kitchen have they?”

The two boys laughed, “Nah sir. If anythin’ it smells really good down stairs. Oh! Ah nearly forgot, we were comin’ up here to tell ya that we’re all ready ta go ahead and eat.”

“Thank you both,” their teacher stood up with the portrait in hand, “I’m come down with you shorty.”

After they left, Harmonic placed the painting back in its place before grabbing the black cloth. However, he paused for a moment before opening a drawer and sticking it in it. After a change in clothing, the Orchestra teacher went downstairs to spend Christmas with his friends, students, and coworkers.

Winter, 2nd Movement.

Nine days after a nosy New Year with fireworks popping away into the night, Harmonic was in his car driving. In the passenger seat, he bought a bouquet of blood red roses with one white one in the center. Being a Saturday, he drove over the slush, snow, and ice over gray roads towards a certain place in town. A place that consisted about two mile square of green pines, oak, spruce, and birch trees that for the most half makes up one of the town’s parks. The other half housed a small zoo while the other, larger half consisted of a cemetery.

Down Chestnut Ave, the Violinist pulled up to the gate that separated the line of houses from the line of tombstones and pine trees. In the warmer months, the cemetery was always taken care of to be sure it was completely green of leveled grass, planted flowers, and well-trimmed trees. But being the middle of winter where the ground was layered with untouched snow, the hollowed grounds were as still as ever.

Getting out of his car with the roses in hand, Harmonic walked into the frozen graveyard towards the spot of a particular carved stone. Minutes of crunching snow underneath his shoes later, he came to the permanent memorial. With his gloved hand, he swept away the snow and frost off of his late Husband’s name, “Color Spectrum Trotivari,” and the painted portrait of the Artist’s face that was forever encased in clear, hard plastic.

Kneeling down, Harmonic placed the flowers at the base of the stone, “Good afternoon,” he said. “I thought it was about time I came to visit you instead of talking to your paintings.” The Violinist laughed quietly, “To be honest, I can’t believe that it’s really have been a year. With all that’s happened, it seemed that time’s moving quite quickly as of late. But I’ve been keeping myself busy though, I’ve returned to teaching Orchestra, as well as taking on some privet lessons in the summer too.

“What else… Oh! Script is married now. He’s finally hitched himself to Page back in December. I’ve helped them out with their wedding of course, make it all Christmas themed. They told me that it was all beautiful for all the work I’ve done. They went to Manhattan for their honeymoon and said that they had fun over there.”

Harmonic paused for a moment as if waiting for a reply, “Also, I have a couple of students that I’ve helped out a bit. Both of them couples too that one of them, Lyra and Sweetie Drops, came to me for advice about when they get out of High School. With those two… when I started teaching again and feeling down, for a while they’ve left some gift baskets on my desk. I think one of them had a family member (I think it was an uncle) who passed on and tried to show their sympathies.

“While the other couple is two boys named Braeburn and Soarin. Color, I think you would have liked to meet them. In a way… they kind of reminded of us when we’ve started dating. In a way, I’ve helped them come to terms with themselves and become more open about who they are. They’ve shown a kind of happiness that I haven’t seen since you were alive.

“And it’s because of these two… that they’ve shown that I can move on. Color, I still miss you, and I still love you for more then you’re worth, but they, and you were right. I can’t go on grieving for you forever. Truth is, I don’t feel as bad as I was a year ago. Yes, I have shed many tears. I have, well, still am talking to you as if you’re still here. But as of now… I think I’m a little better now. I can now wake up every morning to look at your last masterpiece without bursting into an ocean of tears. In fact, I’m able to put the pictures of you in it back on the walls now.”

A bitter wind blew through the graveyard, loose snowflakes sprayed over the amber man before it settled as quickly as it came.

“At the same time, I have a confession to make,” Harmonic sighed. “I have looked back on the last thing you’ve said to me before you passed. You know, about me finding someone to give that same happiness that you’ve given me. Truth is Color; I don’t exactly feel ready to go into the dating field yet. It’s not that my job has taken too much time with my schedule; it’s just that I don’t know if it’ll be possible for me to go out with a total stranger. Not only that, but where do I even start?

“I don’t trust any of those dating sites since you can never be too sure if any of them really say who they are. There is not a single gay bar for miles, and even if there was one here in Equestrian, I don’t think I’ll be able to go because a bar isn’t one of those places to find a stable relationship where alcohol is involved in my opinion. To top it off, I don’t know if I’ll be able to even find anyone decent that swings that way.”

With a sigh, he stood up. “I wonder what you’re doing now. Wherever you are, I hope that you’re at peace somewhere. Perhaps in a kind of heaven where paintings become real every time you paint them. But as of now, I have to go; Script is expecting me to come over soon. However, I will see you again soon. Sound good?” But the stone still remained forever silent.

Harmonic turned away towards the gate of the cemetery. Snow fell from the sky that slowly covered his tracks by the time he started his car and drove away. Although Harmonic couldn’t explain it, there was a sense of peace when he left, as if someone familiar was thanking him for the visit.

_*_

Lyra let her back pack slump to the floor of her room. At present, she didn’t feel like doing her homework right away since she just got home for school. All those chapters of reading, journal assignments, and looking over study guides can wait for all she cared. All she cared about doing right now was to flop onto the bed with music playing in her earphones.

While she did sigh when her back landed on the blankets of her bed, she didn’t get the chance to place those nosy buds in her ears when she heard a ring from her phone. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled it out to find a text.

It was from Bon Bon.

‘This is bad,’ it said.

Cocking an eyebrow, she used the tiny keyboard to message back, ‘What’s bad?’

‘I’ve just got home and found the response letter in the mail from Calvin Hill University. I’ve been rejected. ;_;’

The Harpist was shot in the heart with sympathy, ‘Oh Bonnie, I’m so sorry! What happened?’

‘Something about that I’m underqualified. I couldn’t finish reading the rest of it.’

‘R u okay?’

‘No.’

‘Is there something I can do?’

‘I just really need someone to talk to. My parents are out of the house for now.’

‘Okay, give me a sec.’ She touched her phone a few times until she got to her girlfriend’s number to call her up. It didn’t take long for her girlfriend to pick up, “Hello?”

She heard a sniff from the other end, “Hey.”

“I don’t understand what’s going on. How can you be rejected? I thought you were so sure about this whole college thing.”

“So was I,” Sweetie Drops croaked. “It said something about my grades, that I was barely underqualified. Lyra it’s… it’s not fair.”

“Hey, hey now, it’s not all bad. You still got plenty of colleges to choose from.”

“Like what?”

“Well… what about that local college here, did you talk with your folks about it?”

“Of course we did,” she sniffed. “B-but we wanted to see about Calvin Hill first before we did anything. Lyra… What does this say about my future? Do I even have one?”

“Bonnie, calm down, this isn’t the end of the world. Even if you don’t get into that University, you still got others to choose from. Maybe you need to start small, someplace that doesn’t need you to prove that you’re some prodigy.”

“Yeah but… I don’t know. I’m sorry Lyra; I’m just feeling really down here.”

“No, you’re fine. Just don’t let this get to you. I know rejection sucks, but you shouldn’t let it bother you. I mean, you’ve still got me at least.”

“I suppose so,” she trailed off.

“Sweetie, can I ask you something?”

“What?”

“Why Calvin Hill?”

“Huh?”

“I mean, out of all the places you could have gone to, why that place?”

“Well,” Bon Bon sniffed, “It’s because my family had graduated there in the past. So there’s a kind of expectation that I would get my degree there. But more importantly, they have a culinary school that’s been on the top ten best in the country. I was hoping that if I go there, after I’m done with whatever generals I take, I could enroll in those classes to further my skill in making sweets. But now…”

“Oh… Sweetie, I didn’t know. Ah man, it makes all I’ve said a little too cold-hearted, huh?”

“I forgive you. It’s my fault I haven’t told ya about that bit until now. Sorry about that.”

“Hey, I guess you learn a little something new every day, am I right?”

This got a laugh from her girlfriend, “Yeah. Just a bit disappointing that I didn’t get in though. Do you think that if I get into the local college that I might make my way up to Calvin?”

Lyra shrugged, “I guess. But of course, the first thing you need to do is to get in there obviously.”

“You think they’ll accept me?”

“From what I’ve heard, it’s not like you’re applying to Harvard or anything. Although your chances of getting in should be higher, I think. Still, don’t get yourself all worked up over this. I think that you’re already a great Confectionist.”

“I’m just an assistant.”

Lyra blew raspberries, “Don’t give me that, you’re the only girl I know who can easily put chocolates from Europe to shame! Honestly, I don’t think you need a piece of paper that tells the world that you can make candy, your samples would convince them enough.”

“Awe… that’s so sweet coming from you.”

“But I mean it. Bonnie, you really need to give yourself a whole lot more credit than ya think. Even if you don’t even get into college after High School, I think you’ll do pretty well on your own.”

“I don’t know about that.”

Lyra sat up, “Still, you’ll be fine. Just talk it out to your folks and I think they’ll say the same thing I’ve been saying, don’t sweat it.”

“Okay.”

“You feel better now?”

“A little bit, yeah.”

“Besides, you still have time to get this sorted out. As far as we’re concerned, we won’t have to separate for a long time.”

“I guess there is a bit of silver lining in this. Thanks for talking to me.”

“Anytime,” Lyra smiled, “So, is there anything you wanna talk about?”

“Not sure. What’re you doing?”

“Trying to relax a bit, listen to a bit of music and all that.”

“Oh, I see. You have too much homework?”

She shrugged and answered, “Nothing too major, some reading, writing, and arithmetic.”

“So nothing I can help with?”

“I don’t think so, but I did run into something, I know who to call.”

“Likewise,” Sweetie Drops said before there was a pause. Before Lyra could ask what was going on, her girlfriend said, “My parents are pulling up on the driveway. I think I’m ready to tell them now.”

“Okay. I’ll be sure to see ya tomorrow.”

“Alright, see ya.”

“Bye,” and with that Lyra hung up.

_*_

Beep! “Would the following teachers come to Principal Celestia’s office: Mr. Disc and Mr. Trotivari. Again, would Mr. Disc and Mr. Trotivari please come to Principal Celestia’s office?”

The intercom shut off, leaving the Art teacher in confusion. ‘What does she want me and Harmonic for?’ he thought before turning to his students. “Keep working on your sculpture while I’m gone. Remember; try to rethink how a crow should look.”

His students nodded before he closed the door behind him and started to head towards the office. Wanting to speed up his time, he hopped on a moped he sneezed out of existence to drive down the hallway.

A few turns and “Hey, what where you’re going,” later, Mr. Disc quickly arrived at his destination. After hopping off his mode of transportation before letting it loose in the hallways, he walked in the sectary office to wait for the other teacher to arrive.

The Violinist did a couple of minutes later, spotting his co-worker, Harmonic asked, and “I’m guessing you don’t know why you’re here either?”

Julius shrugged, “How do I know? I was in the middle of teaching when Lu called us up here.”

“Wait-a-sec gentlemen,” the sectary, with the name plaque of Raven, picked up the phone and pressed a button. “Yes, Celestia? The teachers you asked for are here… okay.” After hanging up the phone she told them that they could go right ahead.

Opening the door, they found their boss standing up next to her desk with a clipboard in hand. “Ah good, come in, I need to talk with you both.”

The Surrealist walked in while Harmonic closed the door behind him. “Why did you call us up?”

“Well,” she flipped one of the papers over the board before looking up to Harmonic. “To answer your question, both of you know that Valentine’s Day Ball is coming up in a month, right?”

“Of course,” Julius sat down in the chairs across from her big arm chair. “Where you guys will be selling tickets and the teachers organize it. What about it?”

“Let me get straight to the point,” she sat the board down. “This year, I’ve chosen both of you to decide on a theme for this year’s ball and even how to go about organizing it. The reason why I’ve picked you two is that you have the resources to do something like this.”

“You want us to organize a dance?” Harmonic raised an eyebrow.

“Pretty much, although I have to jot down what exactly you’ll be doing and what our students can expect from this. Of course, I’ll be lending the gym over to you two when the time comes, and you’ll be provided whatever help you need to pull this off. But for now, let’s get down to the planning.”

Mr. Disk pulled on his goatee, “Interesting… Valentine’s huh? I suppose you want something a little more original than having paper hearts scotch-taped everywhere?”

“If you like,” their boss sat on the edge of her desk, picking up a pen, “Any ideas gentlemen?”

“Why not something European?” the Orchestra teacher wandered aloud.

“Like what?”

“Yeah,” Julius tilted his head, “There’s a Pandora’s box worth of ideas coming out of that. Maybe have a ball that’s Tudor themed where there are heads in the punch-bowl.”

“What about…” Harmonic scratched his head. “Vienna?”

Both Principal and fellow teacher raised an eyebrow.

Mr. Disc spoke first, “What’s in Vienna?”

“Well, I remember when I was on tour that the orchestra I was with had to go through Europe. And one of the places we were scheduled to perform in Austria’s capital on New Year’s Eve. I took Color with me at the time because he wanted to see Vienna too. So when we got there, we found out that they celebrated it in a very elegant way that even in the streets they created chandlers out of Christmas lights to hang there. Not only that, but I remember people there were dressed in their Sunday best, and treat the night as if they were in some huge ball. And at midnight, our orchestra played not Auld Lang Syne, but the Blue Danube Waltz. The way they had it all set up was almost fairytale like to the point where it becomes… well, romantic.”

“Huh… you know,” Julius pointed out, “That could actually work.”

“Really?”

“I mean, I can make practically anything appear just like that,” he snapped his fingers and a bowl of pairs appeared in his other hand. “So really, I think I might be able to come up with something to decorate the gym as long as I have a good idea what I’m trying to convey. So do you want this to be a formal thing?”

“That’s the way it’s done in Vienna.”

Celestia started scribbling away.

Harmonic also added, “If we’re seriously gonna do this, I think I have to call up the orchestra. Considering the fact that I haven’t spoken to any of them for over a year, I’m not sure how they’d react to me asking this sort of favor.”

“Wait, you want to make this have live music?” Julius folded his arms, “Going for old fashion aren’t we?”

“Hey, if you wanted this, ‘Night in Vienna’ thing to be any good, why not make it as authentic as possible?”

“So,” Celestia spoke up, “You’ll be doing the decorating while you will be providing the music, is that what I’m hearing?”

“Pretty much,” both teachers said.

“This is a good start,” their Boss stood up. “I think we’ll talk about this later, to let you two go back to your classes. But I think this is gonna be fun.”

“It’ll be interesting alright,” Mr. Disc commented as he headed out the door.

“Likewise,” Harmonic added. Once they were dismissed and out in the halls, Julius catches his ride back to his class while the Violinist pulled out his cellphone. After finding the number and dialing it, he started to walk slowly back to his classroom.

“Hello? It’s me, Harmonic Trotivari… Yes… Yes… I’m fine… Yeah… Look, I know this is sudden, but I think I might need a favor from you guys… That depends. Tell me, what are you guys planning for Valentine’s Day?”

_*_

Braeburn drove up on the street where the Cloudlines lived. In the passenger’s seat in dull gold and tied up in twine was his boyfriend’s present. It wasn’t very big, but it was something that he knew held quite a bit of nostalgic value to Soarin.

He pulled up behind the line of cars at the mouth of the coal-da-sac, parked in front of the white brick house with the green roof. The cowboy parked on the side of the house where two towering pine trees stood over. If it were spring, he would have walked over one of the grassy lawns instead of several inches of snow. But once he crossed over until he got to the icy driveway, he carefully made his way to the concrete steps of the front door.

It didn’t take long for anyone to answer the deep green door with the oval glass in the center. “Hey Brae,” Rain said as she stepped aside.

“Howdy ma’am,” Braeburn took off his hat as he stepped inside the short hallway. “Ah brought the birthday boy a little somethin’.”

“He’s in the living room.” She offered her hand to take his Stetson, in which he handed over. “How long will you be staying over?”

“Ah’ll be havin’ some of the cake if that’s what yer askin’.”

“Brea?” Soarin poked his head around a corner. “Hey man, glad you can make it.”

“Hey there,” Braeburn unzipped his coat. “How’s yer day so far?”

“Don’t take off your coat,” Soarin said suddenly, his boyfriend noticing that as he stepped out, he was holding his coat in his hand.

“What for?”

“I wanna show ya a little something,” he pointed over to the kitchen, follow me to the back.

Raising an eyebrow, the Apple farmer followed his boyfriend through the kitchen with his present still in his hands. Along the way, he got a good look at the cake that was sitting on the stove. It was a round mound of black and white frosting in the shape of a soccer ball. On it was Soarin’s name in light blue. And beside the cake, as Braeburn knew, were seventeen candles and a box of matches.

Following Soarin to the glass doors over where the dining table was, Braeburn also got a glimpse over to the living room where relatives of the Cloudlines sat around in couches with the TV going.

The Apple slipped over into the backyard of the house, over the concrete patio where all the bikes and frozen grill were and towards the open air snowy ground. The backyard is fenced off with concrete blocks that was falling apart, along with a row of five pine trees, a shed, a young apple tree, and as he followed in Soarin’s footsteps around the corner of the house where another, towering evergreen stood between the rest of the backyard and the garden with the three rows of raspberry bushes. It is underneath these three that he found his boyfriend.

“Okay,” Soarin said. “Was there something you were gonna ask me?”

“Yeah, how’s your birthday goin’ fer starters.”

“Eh, kinda boring,” he leaned up against the tree. “I’ve only got a few phone calls from my grandma and grandpa, as well as a couple of friends to tell me the exact same thing.” He looked down at the package underneath Braeburn’s arm. “What’s that?”

“Oh,” he took it out and hand it over to Soarin. “Ah’ve got ya a little somethin’, bein’ yer birthday and all.”

Tilting his head, the blue athlete took the gift in his own hand, “You want me to open now or…?”

“Y’all can if ya wanna.” His boyfriend didn’t take too long to decide to go ahead and open the gift. After ripping the paper and removing the twine, he found a DVD case along with a card.

“Hey! I remember this,” Soarin held up the case. “‘The Adventures of Detective Meow.’ I haven’t seen this since I was a kid. Brae, where did you find this?”

“Believe it or not, Ah ran inta it in the grocery store discount ben. It was layin’ underneath a bunch of stuff, and Ah remember ya sayin’ about you’ve seen it when yer little. So, Ah ended up buyin’ it fer ya.”

The aqua athlete laughed, “Oh man, I have so many good memories coming out of this show.” Then he paused with a thought, “Wait, you haven’t seen this, have ya?”

“Not that Ah recall,” the cowboy shook his head. “But Ah did remember ya talkin’ about it.”

“We need to see this sometime. Maybe it has a couple of good episodes somewhere.”

“Ah, Soar, the card,” the yellow Apple gestured with his hand to flip his gift over.

Realizing it, Soarin opened up the card to which he found two tickets in it. “What’s this?” he picked up one of them to examine more closely. On the outer ridge of the ticket in gold trimming in front of a dark blue background, the ticket read: “A Night in Vienna: Valentine’s Day Ball. 8 P.M.”

“Would ya mind bein’ mah date fer the dance on Valentine’s Day?” his boyfriend asked.

“Awe, that’s really thoughtful of ya dude. Of course, I’ll go out with ya.”

Braeburn smiled, “Thank ya. So with that out of the way, what was it you wanna show me?”

“Huh? Oh! I’ve nearly forgotten,” Soarin stood upright. “Tell me, have ya ever thought what it’d be like to fly for real?”

He tilted his head, “Ya mean like sprouting wings and all?”

“Exactly.”

While he thought about his answer, his boyfriend walked out to a spot in his backyard that isn’t overgrown by trees. “Ah guess. Sometimes when ya start flyin’, Ah kinda wander what it’s like fer ya ta just goin’ up so effortlessly.”

“Come here,” he waved over. Braeburn stepped into the snow until he was face to face with him. “Before I do anything, I need to ask ya, do you trust me?”

“What does that got ta do with anythin’?”

“Just answer the question. Do you trust me?”

“Well… Yeah.”

Soarin grinned, “Okay, now turn around.”

“Why?” he raised an eyebrow.

“Just do it. I think you’re gonna like this.”

The yellow Apple did so. Once his back was turned, he felt Soarin’s arms wrapped tightly around his chest. “Now when I say ‘jump,’ try doing it as high as you can.”

“Okay?”

He felt his boyfriend bend his knees, and being wrapped in his arms, he did the same.

“By the way, you’re not afraid of heights, are ya?”

“Not really.”

“Jump!”

And they did, Braeburn saw the ground being taken away as he was picked up into the air above the one-floor house and the pine trees. “Saor!” he shouted, “what are ya doin’!”

“Relax man,” he heard the blue athlete, who the cowboy quickly assumed he sprouted his wings. “I’ve got ya. I ain’t gonna drop ya.” His yellow boyfriend gripped his arms for dear life.

“Y’all better not!” from behind, all the farmer's could hear was laughter.

“C’mon man, you’re safe. Trust me,” he then flew forward once he gained enough altitude. “I really do think you’re gonna like this.”

In any other situation when Braeburn had suddenly found himself flying in the still winter air that he was picked off the ground like a mouse in the claws of a hawk, he would naturally freak out. His eyes glued to the sweeping earth below, he could feel his heartbeat racing for the fact that he can’t feel a thing from his feet. However, being in Soarin’s arms, there was a strange sense of security. That no matter what happens; he will never let him drop.

Once he grew comfortable about flying around, the yellow Apple took the moment too actually look at the labyrinths of streets below. He could see every snow-covered hill, every curve of the river and canals that ran through the town, every roof, backyards, and crawling cars. Even without his hat on, Braeburn didn’t even mind the cold for the amazement of how small everything was from a literal bird’s eye view.

“What ya think?” Soarin asked.

“Fer starters, aren’t ya arms gettin’ tired?”

“Nah, I’m good. I mean flying in general.”

“Is there another word fer ‘wow’?”

“Sure there is, like amazing, spectacular, beautiful even?”

“Ah think Ah’ll settle fer breathtaking, thank ya.” They passed over the bare trees of one of the town’s parks when the farmer asked, “Is this what it’s like fer ya?”

“When I’m not just restricted to my backyard, oh yeah,” he could practice his boyfriend grin. “It’s so liberating out here. Of course, my wings tend to get tired if I stay out for too long but, out here, I’m as free as I want to be with almost nothing tying me down. Now that you’re up here with me, I guess I really am in heaven.”

Braeburn snorted, “Ya do know what you’d jus’ said, right?”

“Yeah, so?”

“That was really corny.”

“What? I thought it was romantic.”

“You’re tryin’ a bit too hard Soar. Y’all already won me over. Now, can we get back to yer house, ya know, cake an all.”

“Alright, fine,” Soarin dived over his neighborhood, towards the mound of shoveled snow in the middle of his coal-da-sac. As they landed on the mound, they slid down, tumbling over one another over the piled up snow. Once they reached the foot of it, Soarin found himself face to face with Braeburn and on top of him.

“Uh…” was all his boyfriend said, his cheeks turning crimson.

“Oh!” Soarin leaped up, lending a hand to let the other get up. “Brae, I’m so sorry about that man. I should really work on my landing.”

“Hey, nothin’ is broken,” he whipped off the snowflakes off of his coat and blue jeans. “Still, that was actually new. Maybe, when ya practiced a bit more, Ah might wanna do that again sometime in warmer weather.”

“Yeah, I know,” he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Hey, c’mon now, they’re still waitin’ fer us.”

Soarin nodded, he started to walk towards his family’s driveway when suddenly he felt a tap on his shoulder, “Oh, befor’ Ah forget,” Braeburn said before kissing him on the cheek, in which his blue Wondercolt froze. “Thanks fer the ride. Now let’s grab some cake,” he said walking ahead of him.

As for Soarin, he took a moment to realize what just happened. Putting a cool hand to the spot where Braeburn had kissed him, he smiled. “Yeah, you’re welcome.”

_*_

“So, what do ya think?” Julius asked once he unveiled the painting to Harmonic.

The Violinist’s eyes widen, “Is that going to be the gym?”

“Well,” Mr. Disc set the painting down near the fireplace. “It’s more or less a rough idea I have before I actually do anything. But yes, that’s what I plan to do with the gym. I’ve already showed it to Ms. Boss about it and she loved it. What’s more, it won’t cost the school a cent when I’m in charged. So what do you think of this?”

“It’s an elegant design, I’ll give ya that,” the music teacher said as he sat down in his chair. “I like the look of the chandlers and the stage for the orchestra.”

“Speaking of which,” he leaned up against the piano. “Did you get in touch with the old band of yours?”

“Orchestra,” Harmonic frowned, “and yes I did, as it turned out, they were heading eastward and they don’t have anything scheduled for February 14th. If anything, the conductor I’ve contacted with was rather surprised that I’ve called at all, thinking that I was still grieving. To put it in a nutshell, I was told that since they’ve actually missed playing with me, which they would perform for nothing for the High School ball.”

“Well, there’s some good news right there. Although, out of curiosity, are you the one doing all the playing or the dancing?”

The Violinist raised an eyebrow, “I’ll be playing with the orchestra. Why’d you ask?”

“Just curious, besides, I’m planning to go there myself.”

“You?”

“Yep,” Julius smiled, “I’ve finally asked Celestia to go out with me to the dance, which is a miracle in and of itself. Oh, and since I’m here, I was wondering if I could make a special request?”

“Like what?”

Mr. Disc bends over and whispered in Harmonic’s ear if he knew a particular song. “Yeah I do, we used to play that song a while back so I think that the orchestra would remember it as well.”

“Excellent,” Julius grinned before there was a knock on the door. “Well, I guess I must be going then.” He grabbed the painting and the paperwork on the piano, “I’ll hand these over to Celestia tomorrow. Thanks for inviting me over.”

For the music teacher, on the other hand, he was confused that someone else was at his door; he didn’t recall that he had to meet someone else today. As the two teachers went up to the door, the elder opened it to find Braeburn Apple and Soarin Cloudline at Harmonic’s doorstep.

“Mr. D?” Soarin looked up, “what are you doing here?”

“Oh, going over the plans for the Ball and the end of the world.” The art teacher said casually, “in other words, just a normal Friday.”

“Okay,” the farmer drawled as Mr. Disc walked out the door, bidding them good bye.

Harmonic turned his attention towards the students, “Can I help you two?”

“Actually, yeah,” Braeburn said as their teacher let them inside. “It has ta do with the upcoming Ball.”

“Don’t tell me that you have a requested song as well,” the Violinist closed the door.

“It’s not that,” Soarin grabbed his arm. “But it has something to do with it.”

“How so?”

“The ticket said that it’s going to be an ‘old fashioned’ dance. Where they’ll be a waltz and all that,” he explained. “Even when we can go in a formal dress and all, there’s one thing we don’t know how to do.”

“Yes?” Harmonic tilted his head.

“We’re jus’ gonna get straight to the point,” Braeburn said, “Can ya teach us how to dance all proper?”

This was unexpected. In all of his years of being a teacher, as well as being a father, never once had anyone come up to him to give them dance lessons. Not even Script when he and Page were dating never asked this sort of thing before a dance.

“May I ask why?”

“Why askin’ ya or…”

“Yes, why did you come to me?”

“Well,” Soarin said, “while I’ve been to a few dances before, I’ve never to one that’s this formal before. I don’t know what to do with this sort of thing, to be honest. Even with the dances, it mentions on the ticket, I have no idea how they’re supposed to be done. We were wondering since you teach music if you happen to know a few moves for these sorts of dances.”

Harmonic hummed in thought, “To be honest with you two, I haven’t danced in years. But yes, I do happen to know a few ‘moves,’ as you call it.” He turned to the bookshelves by his radio to look through the CD’s. “I happen to know one that would work well with the three-quarter time that the music will be played. Now where is… there it is.”

He took out the disk out of his case and inserted it into the machine. But he pressed a few tracks forward and put it on pause. “So, in order for this to work,” he turned back to the boys. “I’ll personally teach you both the very basics before we practice with the music.”

“Sounds fair,” Soarin shrugged as his Orchestra teacher went up to him.

“First thing you need to know,” he said. “Is that for each dance partner, there’s a lead and a follower. For you to understand, I’ll take the lead.”

“Okay.”

“First,” Harmonic offered his right hand, “let me have your hand.” He did so, “Now, the way that you can tell is leading is by where the lead’s hand is. For example, if you place your left hand on my shoulder. Yes like that. While I place mine just underneath your rib-cage,” he did so. “This means that I’m the one that’s leading. With this in mind, when the music starts, I move my right leg forward while you move your left leg backward. Like so, one, two,” Harmonic moved forward while Soarin stepped backward. “Three. Now again with you moving forward with your left leg Soarin, one, two,” they moved back in the same space. “Three.”

“So there’s a rhythm to this?” the blue athlete asked.

“Exactly,” their teacher nodded. “Just like the beat of a drum, when you dance with your partner, you move with them on the beat. Like, one, two, three. One, two- left leg, three. One, two, three,” Harmonic counted, moving with his student until he got the pattern down.

“There you go,” the Violinist stopped suddenly. “I think you get a general idea. Braeburn, let’s try it with you, how about you take the lead?”

Harmonic repeated the same dance moves with the yellow Apple as he did with Soarin. Once he got the same pattern down, he went over to the stereo. “Very good, now let’s practice with some music.” As he pushed play, a melody of sneer drums, soft brass and a clarinet started to sing though the speakers.

“Before you begin a dance, the first thing you do is to bow to your partner,” they did. “Now decide who’s gonna take the lead.” Braeburn stepped forward to Soarin, placing his hand at his rib-cage while taking a hand with the other. “Okay, now on the beat,” reminded their teacher.

Both boys looked to each other, listening for the rhythm of the music to cue them in. And then, Braeburn stepped forward in time for Soarin to step back, then forward, then back again. As the music developed into a much richer melody, both bodies went from a straight line to a curve until they went in a full circle.

For Harmonic, he could have told them to stop because they have got it. However, he decided to just let the couple have their moment as they were quickly getting lost in the rhythm of the same dace that he and his husband used to share. And now, here in his Living Room, he saw peace and happiness waltz together.

Winter, 3rd Movement.

Harmonic parked in the back of the school. The sun had already gone down some time ago, and the gray clouds overhead dusted some snow overhead. On the outside, there seemed nothing out of place where the gym is supposed to be, except for the fact that he couldn’t see through the windows.

Turning off the engine and flipping a mirror open, the Violinist looked over himself. He already showed, combed back his hair, shaved, and put on his black cleaned suit. Although he did adjust his pearly white bow-tie over his Victorian collar, as well as to be sure his white shirt and vest were spotless too, he was still preparing himself mentally to meet a group of people that he hardly spoken to for over a year.

“Well, might as well get inside,” he told himself when he opens the car and grabbed his coffin case. He walked up to the back entrance, all the while could hear the familiar tuning of an orchestra. ‘They’re here already?’ he thought as he approached the door. ‘It’s not even seven-thirty yet. I didn’t expect they would be here so soon.’

After pushing the door open with his back, the Orchestra teacher turned around and then suddenly stopped when he got a good look at what Mr. Disc had done to the gym. If he didn’t know that the surrealist art teacher possessed other worldly powers that defy the laws of physics, architecture, and reason, he would easily call the room an eighth wonder of the world.

The first thing that drew his attention was the ceiling. There were no steel beams, nor lamps that hung from the ceiling. In its place was a curved, arched ceiling that was in midnight blue with dots of light where in two places become so clustered together that they droop downward to make two, elegant chandlers. Looking downward, he saw the starry night merged into the white, rococo walls that held gold leafing, mirrors, and shiny candelabras with lit candles. All about the gym turned ballroom, were gilded chairs with red velvet seats. Some stood by carved tables with refreshments. Even the floor had no trace of the original gym that the layouts of the wood laid out like a mosaic. Harmonic couldn’t miss the fountain in the center of the room, nor the stage where the orchestra was tuning.

“So, what do ya think?” Harmonic quickly turned to the sound of Mr. Disc’s voice. He found his fellow teacher in a suit, similar to his own only had on a bright red vest. “It took me a while, but I’m quite proud at the results.”

“I can tell,” the Violinist looked up, “what did you do to the ceiling?”

“Simple, I sneezed and out came stars.”

“No, seriously,” he deadpanned, “how did you make that.”

“And I’m telling you, I sneezed. It’s amazing what florescent pepper can do.”

Harmonic opened his mouth but quickly closed it, deciding that there’s no point in arguing when it came to the surrealist. “Let’s change the subject here. Are you feeling confident in your date with Celestia?”

“I’m trying to keep calm. After all, it’s been eons-and-a-half since I’ve last dated anybody. I’m actually surprised she even said ‘sure’ to it at all.”

“But you haven’t answered my question.”

Julius sighed, “I’m hoping that this will go alright at least. I kinda feel like a teen on his first date.”

“Try to relax, that’s the key, after all, you were the one to put this work of art on display.”

“And not a single construction company in sight,” he laughed nervously as he looked at his watch. “Why don’t you go join up with your guys? I’m sure you have some warming up to do as well.”

Harmonic agreed, and headed towards the stage where it didn’t take long for members of the orchestra particularly the conductor, to notice him. “Excuse me; I hope I’m not too late for warm-ups?”

“No, of course not,” said the conductor in a gray suit who jumped off from his stand.

The Violinist blinked, “I’m sorry, but has Mr. Romanov retired in the past year?”

“He has, and I’m his replacement,” he landed on the hardwood floor and offered his hand. “I’m the new conductor, Pitch Perfect.”

“Well then, Mr. Perfect,” Harmonic chuckled to himself as he shook his hand. “I’m glad that the orchestra could come do this favor I’ve asked.”

“Oh no sir, the pleasure is all ours to have you back, or at least, for this one night.”

“Well yes,” the Orchestra teacher then sat his case down and took out his violin. “Remember, this doesn’t mean that I’m rejoining you guys for good. It’s just that I needed someone to play for these students, and my boss suggested I should call you guys up.”

“Not a problem Mr. Trotivari, we’re honored to have you play with us once more, with me conducting.”

As the Violinist looked over the faces of the orchestra, he noticed that there were a few he didn’t recognize as he rosen his bow. “I’m guessing you’re not the only one who’s new to the orchestra?”

“Well yes. For example, we have a cellist who’s originally from this very town!”

“Really, who?”

“Over there,” Pitch pointed over to the cello section, one of whom had light green skin and messy but short hair, “Is a guy named Whole Note. We let him in a couple months after you quit. Not very social, but he’s pretty decent in what he plays in my opinion.”

“I see,” Harmonic and the conductor climbed on stage.

“So, is it true that you teach here?”

“Yes. I teach High School Orchestra, and some privet lessons during the summer.”

“Ah, you’ve kept yourself busy lately.”

“I try,” Harmonic sat down in the vacant chair among the violin section.

He felt a tap on his shoulder, looking behind him, he saw an old woman sitting there. “It’s good to have you back.”

_*_

Mr. Disc stood by the door that connected the converted ballroom into the hallways of the school. He could already hear the murmur of small talk of other students that had gathered an early crowd by the door. Looking at his watch in one hand and the key to unlock the doors with the other, he waited until it was eight o’clock.

By then, the orchestra had already warmed up and tuned for playing. With their scores set out before them, all of them, including the conductor, waited for the signal to begin playing the march to welcome the students in.

“Now!” Mr. Disc cried. At which, the percussionist drummed out a rhythm that echoed in the room, which caused the murmur to die down from behind the doors. Once the first few thunderous notes had roared, Julius unlocked the door to the students and one Principal that have been waiting.

“Meine Damen und Herren,” he said taking a bow, “Welcome to Vienna.”

Students came pouring in, taken completely off guard at the change the gym had become in their suits and dresses. Even Celestia was awed struck.

“So,” Mr. Disc lifted his arms, “what do you think of this?”

“Did… Did you really do this all by yourself?”

“Eh, art for me isn’t that difficult as long as I know the subject. Of course, I’ll turn it back to the boring old gym once everything is done and over with. But you still haven’t answered my question. Do you like it?”

Celestia looked up at the ceiling, “I’m impressed actually. Really impressed.”

Julius grinned, “I knew you would, and by the way, nice dress.”

She looked down at the clothes that she had on. It was dark blue with trimmings of light blues and white, “Thanks. I had to borrow my sister’s since I hardly have anything to ware for something to dance in.”

“Still, it looks good. Quite regal if I do say myself.” He swiftly went over to her side, offering his arm, “So, shall we milady?”

“Of course,” she linked her arm around his. “Let me see what you did for snacks.”

As they walked away, another couple arrived, also linking arms as they entered.

“Whoa,” Lyra said, “What happened to the gym?”

“It looks incredible,” Bon Bon commented. “Looks like something out of a fairy tale doesn’t it?”

“Fairy tale… I wonder if they got someone from Equestria to do this. This place is gorgeous!”

“I’ll say.” They looked around the room, at the starry chandlers to the orchestra playing in front of a scarlet curtain. “So, what do you want to do first?”

“I think we can dance a little later. Besides, I think that Soarin and his boyfriend are coming.”

“Are they here now? I don’t see them.”

“Neither do I, but while we’re waiting, I want to give ya something.”

“Same here, but let’s go sit down somewhere.”

The two of them headed towards one of many gilded chairs when they sat down, Lyra said, “Okay, do you want to go first or should I?”

“Here, let me.” She took off her jacket that revealed her dress of having on a deep blue dress with a light pink ribbon around her waist. Searching through her pockets, she pulled out a small, heart-shaped box about the size of her hand.

After handing it over, Lyra opened the lid, in which she found inside the words, “To my sweetheart,” along with a few pieces of chocolate.

“Awe Bonnie, that’s adorable. Thanks so much. Now here,” Lyra took off her coat that covered her violet dress. After searching in her pockets, she paused, “I have some really good news. I think that I can go to college with you.”

“What!” this got Sweetie Drops attention, “But I thought you said that you can’t afford it.”

“I thought so too, but I’ve sounded something in our attic. It was wrapped in a newspaper that had been yellowed over time. When I open it, this was one of the things I’ve found,” she pulled out a necklace that made her girlfriend gasp. The necklace was connected by a strand of pearls which every three, there where silver flowers with a white diamond in the middle. Hanging from each of these silver flowers hung oval shaped pearls with the largest one in the center, all encompassed by a tear-shaped ring of diamonds. “Bonnie, do you know what this is?”

She shook her head as her girlfriend put it around her neck.

“There were other jewelry, one of them, a pair of earrings, have a double-headed eagle with three crowns overhead. I’ve looked it up on the web, and if I’m right, you’re wearing a piece of jewelry from the Romanov’s, the last royal family of Russia.”

“Wait, are you saying that this might be royal jewelry?”

“I’ve checked it out with a jeweler to see if this stuff is even real. And I was told that whether or not they’re reproductions, those jewels, stones, and pearls are real. I think that if I sell them, I might have enough to go to college with you.”

“Lyra, I’m amazed. I mean, I feel like a queen with this on.”

“You’re quite welcome, you’re Majesty,” she took a bow which made her girlfriend giggle.

“Still, I don’t know how I can repay-”

“Don’t. The jewelry is probably worth at least a year or two of college so I don’t think you would repay me anything except to see you happy.”

“Thanks, Lyra,” Bon Bon smiled before hugging her. “You’ve never ceased to amaze me.”

“Oh you know me; I’ll always come up with something.” It was then that the mint Harpist heard a ‘ding!’ from her coat pocket. Reaching for her phone, she investigated what she received.

“What is it?”

She showed her the text. It’s from Soarin, and it said only one word, “here.”

“Well, at least we know our friends have arrived,” Lyra said.

It was then that the march had finished, and there was a round of applause.

_*_

“Would it be weird if I said that I’ve never been on a date on Valentine’s Day?” Soarin asked.

“Really?” Braeburn blinked, “Not once?”

He shook his head, “Nope. I mean, I haven’t even gotten one of those cards since Elementary School. Not even the girlfriends I had even given me one of those candy hearts that say something corny like, “B mine,” or “I’m nuts 4 u,” things like that.”

“Oh yeah, Ah remember those too,” he pushed the front door of the school with his back. “Did Y'all remember makin’ those Valentine boxes out of shoeboxes?”

“How could I forget? I think all the teachers from kindergarten to sixth grade had us make those things the day before.” Here, the athlete laughed, “It’s funny really, that I’ve put so much effort into making those things as a kid. With all the cutout hearts, a mountain of crayons, and a bucket full of glue, that I hoped that I would wow everyone the next day.”

“All Ah remember is the candy,” he shrugged as they walked towards the gym. “Let’s face it, when it comes to the day of love, we weren’t interested in the cards since ya can by a bundle of them at tha store.”

“You know, looking back on this day when I was a kid, I guess I didn’t realize then how hollow it all was.”

This got the yellow Apple’s attention, “Hollow?”

“Well think about it when you were a kid. When all the students had gone around the room, putting their cards and candy into everyone else’s boxes that it’s time to open yours up. Then you get your box back and open the thing up, finding that it’s full of stuff. Yet, once you actually go through it, you’ll find that aside from the candy, the cards themselves are all generic. That the only thing that makes them unique is the names and… that’s it. Once you realize that everyone else got the same thing as you do, you quickly figure out that they did it for the same reason you did. Because it was all a chore that you had to write out to those you don’t even know.”

They stopped for a moment to give their tickets to one of the students before they proceeded towards the door that leads to the gym and the sound of a pizzicato melody.

“Maybe,” Braeburn said with a sly smile, “This Valentine’s won’t be hollow.”

“I suppose so,” they stopped in front of the door. “You ready man?”

The dressed up farmer looked over to the door before returning to Soarin, “Do ya think this’ll be weird with us dancin’ in there, out in the open?”

“Hey, Mr. H is in there, along with Lyra and Bon Bon, so don’t worry so much about anything else except one thing.”

“Have fun?”

“Nope,” he pressed on the door, “that I’m your- what happened to the gym?”

Braeburn looked, and his eyes widen also at the sight of the temporary ballroom. “Soar, are ya sure we’re in the right place?”

Soarin felt his cellphone vibrate, checking to see what he got, he found a text from Sweetie Drops with the words, “See u.”

“Yep, we’re in the right place,” he confirmed his boyfriend question, “Although I can’t believe it myself.”

The cowboy gave a low whistle, “They’ve really classed this place up… Ah kinda like it.”

“There you are.” Their attention was directed to the two ladies that came up to them. Lyra added, “They’ve really made an improvement in decorating this year, huh?”

The two boys agreed. “So how have you two been?” Soarin asked.

“We’re doing pretty well,” Bon Bon said. “If anything, I think things are looking up for us.”

“How so?” Braeburn inquired.

“I think we might have solved our money troubles for college when we graduate.”

“Ah, that’s good.”

“What about you two?” Lyra asked, “Do you have any plans after High School?”

The couple looked at each other for a moment, “To be honest, Brae and I have been talking a bit about that, and we thought that we should work a bit before we go to college.”

“Technically,” the Yellow Apple said, “Ah have a job workin’ on the family farm so money ain’t much of a problem fer me. However, Ah’ve suggested ta Soar to maybe get a job from us fer a while until we get enough ta get in.”

“Besides,” Soarin wrapped an arm around him, “I’m not planning to go anywhere without this guy.”

“Wait! Hold that pose.”

“Huh?” both gentlemen said in unison before there was a flash from Lyra’s phone.

“Got it,” the green student grinned, “that was adorable!”

“Wait, let me see,” Sweetie Drops leaned over. “Not a bad pic,” she turned to the other couple, “Anyway, do you guys want to hang out with us for a bit or do you wanna dance for a while?”

“Maybe when they start playin’ the next song,” Braeburn started to move towards the fountain in the middle. “But we’ll talk with ya later though.”

“Sounds good,” she took hold of Lyra’s hand, “If you need us, we’ll be over by the snacks.”

As they separated, Soarin followed his boyfriend towards the very center of the room where the sparkling water flowed over into the small pool. The farmer sat down on the edge of the marble structure, “Ya know,” he began, “Ah kinda feel like this is our first date in a way with all these people about.”

“Why?” the blue athlete sat down next to him. “You know that the school pretty much knows about us.”

“Ah know that it’s just… ta actually show it in front of everyone that’s makin’ me as nervous like a kitty on the edge of a clock tower. Especially when we’re gonna get so many stares from all around.”

“Dude, so what that people will look,” Soarin grinned, “Maybe ought to give them quite the show.”

“Look, Ah’m sorry. Ah’m really am. It’s jus’ that Ah’ve never done anythin’ like this befor’.”

“What? Dance at a dance?”

He shook his head, “Ah mean with another guy… at least in the open.”

“Dude, it’s okay. At least I’ll be right here for ya.” Soarin placed a hand underneath his chin, “If it’ll help, don’t focus on anyone else but me. After all, you bought me those tickets to be here, so why not make the most of it?”

“Okay,” he nodded as the pizzicato song had ended. The room applauded, and the orchestra went straight to another waltz with a soft opening of violins and French horns.

Soarin stood up and took a bow, “Well,” he held out his hand, “may I have this dance?”

Braeburn stood up also. He glanced around to see if anyone was watching, and indeed there were a handful. There were already whispers that encompassed the two.

“Brae,” his boyfriend called again, “please?”

Taking in a deep breath, he took his beloved’s hand, “Only if you let me take the lead.”

“Of course,” Soarin nodded as they made their way towards a clear spot. Once they found a suitable space, the athlete and the Apple farmer bowed before they took a step toward the other. From the corner of his eye, Braeburn could see other students taking out their phones. “You ready?”

Seeing that these bystanders are just going to only watch, he nodded. “Ah think Ah am.”

“Okay, start whenever you’re ready.”

The Cowboy listened to the orchestra as it swelled amongst the brass, winds, and chimes. The strings helped the music calm itself until there was a pause when the cellos and double basses plucked their strings. Then slowly as the two begin their dance, so did the melody. Braeburn took note that many of the murmurings had subsided.

However, as the music of the Blue Danube grew with confidence, and to have Soarin in his arms, it might as well be the safest place in the world. To be dancing to the tune that once entertained Kings and Emperors of the Old World, in a place of elegance was as if they were transported into a forgotten fairy tale.

Not to say that as they danced, each took a moment to appreciate the other. From the fiery, golden hair to the watery blue that waltzed together in their simplicity. To their finest of Sunday clothes, in which both hand in their breast pockets, a single red rose. The music was the only thing to keep them in check of the rhythm they danced in.

“Hey Brae,” Soarin spoke, “I wanna say thanks for this.”

“Nah, ya don’t have ta. Its jus’ a dance.”

“No. I mean… as sappy as this is going to sound, for being my valentine. I guess finally having someone to dance with that has been with me for so long is a miracle. In fact, perhaps I should consider you a saint from here on out.”

Braeburn raised an eyebrow, “How so?”

“You’ve performed a couple of miracles to me. The first is for you being a loyal friend who had withstood the test the time. The second is that you’ve fallen in love with me, something that none of my past girlfriends had done. And the third is you’ve proven yourself to be not only a great best friend but a lover too.”

His boyfriend chuckled with a blush, “Soar, you’re way too kind.”

“No man, I’m not saying that because to just flirt with you… okay, partly. But more importantly, because it’s true since you’ve performed one miracle after another.”

“Ah’m jus’ a guy that harvests and takes care of apple trees.”

“Not to mention, a saint.”

Braeburn shook his head, “Nonsense, you performed a couple of miracles too.”

“I did?”

“Y'all accept me when Ah came out. Ya said ‘yes’ fer me to date ya. And even when you’d agree to be a special someone, doesn’t that account fer somethin’?”

Soarin shrugged, “I guess you have a point. Still, you really are a wonderful guy to be with.”

“Ah know, and so are you.”

“I have to say man; this is pretty romantic in a way.”

“Yeah… but Ah think somethin’s missin’.”

“Like what?” the aqua athlete raised an eyebrow. “What’s missing?”

Braeburn smirked, “Oh… maybe somethin’ like the lines of…” and before Soarin had time to process what was happening, he found the yellow Apple’s lips upon his. His eyes widen by surprise, that he didn’t think that the Cowboy would be this bold to have his first kiss out in the open.

The only thought that the athlete had when he was being kissed by not only from his best friend for the longest time, was that it didn’t seem awkward at all. If anything, having Braeburn kiss him for the first time felt… right. As if it were the most natural thing in the universe. That, and he could hear the ‘Ooh’s’ and ‘squee’s’ from the girls nearby, but he wasn’t quite sure.

It didn’t last long when his boyfriend pulled away, “Holy crap man,” Soarin said, “where did that piece of confidence come from?”

“Uh…” Braeburn looked away, “Sorry, it just seemed right, ya know? Ah jus’ thought-”

This time, Soarin kissed him. Whatever the farmer was going to say was faded into forgetfulness as a daydream of his suddenly became flesh and blood.

“You know what?” the watery blue athlete inquired, “You’re right. That was the only thing missing from tonight. Thank you.”

“Ah…” Braeburn trailed off, aware that his head had turned a glowing red. “That… A-Ah mean…”

“You’re speechless,” Soarin grinned wickedly. “Hmm. Note to self-”

“Oh shut up,” the golden Apple playfully shoved him. “Jus’ promise me not ta change.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” For the rest of the waltz, the two of them dance on the Blue Danube.

_*_

“You know,” Principal Celestia said, “it’s kind of refreshing to have an old fashion dance every once in a while.”

“When you say refreshing,” Julius asked after downing some punch, “you mean where there isn’t a DJ blasting out window shattering techno music?”

“It’s not that I’m against it. I know that kids always need their music. Besides, we listen to songs that the previous generation didn’t approve either, so it wouldn’t be fair if I did the same. Yet, what I’m saying is that having something like this every so often gives them the opportunity to show them a bit of culture and show how much class romance can have.”

The Art teacher snorted, “Oh please, as if there was any ‘class’ in any generation.”

“Nevertheless, it’s still appreciated. Like opening the door for a lady, speaking to your date with respectability, or-”

“Allowing women and children to the lifeboats first,” Mr. Disc joked. “However, I do get where you’re going with this. Showing kids what the golden age of manners was like, or at least, a romanticized version of it.”

“Well, I suppose that’s true,” she adjusted her dress a bit. “At least our students are appreciating this dance, seeing this as something magical than an annoyance.”

“I guess it all comes to teases,” he said. Throwing his cup away, “that, and having some who are open-minded enough to try something new.” He turned towards his Boss, “A change in subject, how are you tonight?”

“I think I’m holding up. If anything, I’m rather glad that I’m taking a break from my usual routine of staying home. It’s not every day I get to be asked out for a dance.”

“To tell you the truth, I haven’t been to dance myself since… when was it again? College? High School? Huh… I can’t really remember, except that it’s been a long time.”

Celestia nodded, “I guess we’re in the same boat. Still, this is… nice.”

“Oh?”

“At the same time, I have to wonder why you’ve asked me out. You know you have the whole school to choose from.”

“I know,” he mused, “but it’s just that I uh…”

When she saw that there was a touch of light pink on the Mr. Disc’s gray cheeks, Celestia pressed, “Yes?”

“I uh… l-like you.”

The Principal tilted her head, “Define ‘like’.”

Mr. Disc opened his mouth but closed it again when he elbowed the mirror behind him in which he pulled out a dictionary from it. After opening it up and looking through it, he responded. “It’s just that I… appreciate you for being… you.”

“Julius,” Celestia asked, piecing some of the pieces together, “Where did this come from?”

Tossing the book into the fountain, he rubbed the back of his neck. “Oh… nowhere. It’s that you’ve been nice to me and all…” Just as Mr. Disc was looking for an excuse, the orchestra suddenly started to play his requested song. “Oh,” he turned to Celestia and bowed, “may I have this dance?”

Although she raised an eyebrow while smirking, she accepted it. “Okay spill it,” she said as they started dancing, “how long have you started to ‘like’ me?”

“Oh… do you really want to talk about that?”

“Well, you have gotten me curious.”

“…. I don’t know… maybe five or six years give-or-take.”

“That long?” her eyes widen, “Julius, why are you telling me this now?”

“Would it matter? Knowing you, your schedule is always packed. Grant it, that’s because you and your sis have a school to run. Always have paperwork to climb, always students to discipline, when do you honestly would find the time to do something like this? Boss, I’m not stupid. I’m not going to be one of those guys that’ll show up to your doorstep with a boom box over my head playing some cheesy eighties song. I know where my limitations are, superpowers or no.”

“So, you think that because I tend to work hard that I wouldn’t have time for you?”

“You didn’t the last time.”

“What was that?”

Realizing what had come out of his mouth, Mr. Disc sighed, “Okay, you’ve caught me. Before I went into that madhouse, I tried to ask you out on a dinner. However, you were so busy that I didn’t get the chance to have my say. So I almost didn’t see the point of trying again after that.”

“But you’ve asked me out to the dance.”

“True, but you presented me an opportunity to do so when you’ve asked me to decorate this place.”

“You just made this all for me, didn’t you?”

He turned his head away and nodded. What he didn’t expect was that for Celestia to kiss him on the cheek, turning back to her in surprise.

“I’ll tell you what,” she said, “Next week for me is going to be packed, but the week after on a Saturday, however, I think I have some free time. If you want, we can go out to that Thai place that Luna likes.”

Julius blinked, “Did… did you just asked me out?”

“So what if I did,” she smirked, “Besides, I’ve got nothing better to do.”

_*_

By the time that the students had drifted away, and the orchestra finished their last waltz, Pitch Perfect called in a night for everyone.

While everyone was packing up, the conductor went up to Harmonic. “Excuse me, Mr. Trotivari?”

“Hm?” he inquired as he put his instrument back in his case.

“I want to thank you for having to play with us again. You were quite wonderful tonight, still got that touch.”

“Uh-huh.”

The conductor shifted in his shoes. “So, are you sure you don’t want to come back for good this time?”

“Not really,” he shut his case and locked it up. “Maybe sometime in the future, but I still think it’s still a bit too soon.”

“Ah, I understand. Well then, if you ever change your mind about teaching here, you know who to call.”

“Sure thing,” the Violinist got up. “And thanks for the favor,” he added as he started to make his way towards the door.

“Uh… M-Mr. Trotivari?” he paused. This was a voice that he hadn’t heard of before. It wasn’t a student’s voice, nor was it any of the teachers he recognized. Curious, he turned to find it was the light green cellist that addressed him.

“Yes?”

“Uh,” he held out to him a copy of the waltz’s they had played along with a pen. “C-Can I uh… get y-your autograph?”

“Well… sure,” he put down his coffin case and took hold of the pen and the music book. “Who is this going to?”

“Huh?”

“Your name?”

“Oh,” he scratched the back of his white hair, “name’s Note. Whole Note.”

“Ah,” Harmonic opened up the sheet music to the Blue Danube and wrote in, “To: Whole Note. Wonderful performance with tonight’s dance,” and with that, he signed his signature.

“Thanks,” the cellist said when he was given his book back. “I’m quite a fan of yours s-sir.”

“So I’ve noticed.”

“Is it true, that you’re just gonna continue teaching here?”

He nodded, “I am. Maybe someday I’ll go back on tour with you guys. But for now, however, I’m just not exactly ready yet.”

“Oh,” Note said with disappointment, “I see.”

“Well, goodnight then,” Harmonic picked up his violin case and walked out of the door.

Whole Note flipped opens his copy of the score to where the autograph was and sighed, ‘Maybe… someday,’ he thought.

Author's Note

At last, it is done.

Now, my thoughts on this that the only regret I have is that I didn't make Lyra and Bon Bon interesting enough. Yet, I admit, my focus wasn't entirely on them other then for SoarBurn part of the story along with Mr. Trotivari.

So, now I have finally finished this story, for anyone who is reading this, I want to ask, what do you think?

Spring: 1st Movement.

Author's Note

Just to be clear: this is currently unedited; this story is not about Mr.Disc but it does take place in the same universe; and it contains both F\F and M\M shipping. If you do not like one or a combination of those, you know where the exit button is.

Also, this is a kind of crossover of two of my series, the Harmonic series, and the Mr. Disk series.

Spring: 1st Movement.

Turning off the engine of his car, the new Orchestra Teacher looked up at the High School before him in its early hours. In a way, returning to teaching students at this school has bought bittersweet memories. Considering all that has happened, he almost didn’t want to come back. The death of his spouse was hard enough, and his family tried their best to comfort the Violinist, but he wasn’t sure if this was the proper motivation.

Sighing, he looked at his reflection to move a stray trace of black hair that had four thin streaks of gray. Even though he knew it was a sign of getting old, he thought that it was fitting as a musician that it looked like strings on a black fingerboard. His amber hands with spider-like fingers opened the door, walked out to get his violin case out of the trunk and school papers for the upcoming classes.

Since it was still early in the day and the air was chilly despite being March, his brown overcoat and his old black-and-white scarf did keep him warm as he walked up to the front doors of Canterlot High. The teacher paused for a moment in his reflection to adjust the black pin of a violin “f” hole before opening the glass doors.

Looking at the clock as he entered, he was still too early for any of the students to be here since it was six o’clock in the morning. So the first place he went was towards the teacher’s lounge to see if anyone was in there. However, all he found were chairs, tables, and a coffee machine which he happily took advantage of.

Fifteen minutes of sipping a cup of the bitter liquid later, the door opened to a very surprised Art Teacher. Even though Harmonic’s mood refused to show it, he was slightly surprised to see the older man who had gray skin, yellow and red eyes, an uncombed black hair with snow-white eyebrows and goatee on his face.

“H… Harmonic?” the older man in the mitch-mashed coat asked. “Harmonic Trotivari? What are you doing here?” He closed the door behind him, “I thought you retired.”

“Good morning to you too, Mr. Disc,” Harmonic deadpanned before returning to his coffee, “Celestia had insisted that I come back.”

“She did? How come?”

The Violinist raised an eyebrow, watching him walk over to the coffee machine, “You mean you haven’t heard what happened a few months back?”

Mr. Disc chuckled when the machine slowly dripped the hot liquid into his #1 Ex-Villain mug, “With all that has happened in the past year involving me, I haven’t made the habit of keeping track of retired teachers lately. But in all honesty, I don’t know what made you come back.”

“Well, do you remember Color Spectrum?”

He shrugged, “More or less, wasn’t he your best friend or something?”

“Husband,” the Music Teacher corrected him.

This gotten his co-worker’s eyes to widen, “Husband? Wait-a-month! Harmonic, I didn’t know you’re-”

“Yep,” Harmonic interrupted. “I was happily married.”

Mr. Disc gave a puzzling look, “Was? What does that mean?”

Avoiding eye contact, the Violinist muttered in his mug, “He passed away two months ago.”

“Oh… Harmonic, I’m so sorry about that.”

He shook his head, “You had nothing to do with it. So, after a two-month long depression, Ms. Boss called me up and said that, if I wanted, I could come back here to teach music again. Besides, even Script pressured me into this because, as he puts it that I’ve, ‘Hardly been out of the house and never been doing anything productive, and even giving up on tours altogether.’”

“And I’m guessing that Ms. Sunbutt is trying to get you back into reality?”

“Something like that I suppose,” Harmonic paused for a moment before realizing, “Hang on, I thought you already knew about my sexuality have you?”

“With me in a loony bin and juggling what’s been going on last year… Let’s just say that I’ve been hiding beneath a concrete bunker. Oh! But have you heard the news of what I can do here?”

Confused, the Orchestra teacher shook his head, “Sorry, with all that I’ve been doing, I haven’t got the time or the motivation to pay attention to the news lately. Except for something about a new country being discovered and flying kids… not much. Why?”

Grinning, Mr. Disc told him to, “Watch this,” as he grabbed his filled mug before letting go. The porcelain cup not only didn’t shatter when it hit the tiles, but the coffee didn’t spill out. But the even bigger surprise was that the mug rises on its own and levitated before the Surrealist Art Teacher, “Pretty cool huh?”

“Wha… how?”

Julius Disc deadpanned, “Wow, you weren’t kidding about you being out of touch? People already know I can do this for over a year now.”

“Hey, I was touring at the time,” Harmonic protested, “Don’t get me wrong, I’ve kinda heard about this sort of magic stuff before, it’s that there’s a difference between hearing about this and actually seeing it. Heck, I didn’t have time to watch the news while practicing the Violin, playing in concert halls and taking care of…”

Sighing, the elder man snapped his fingers for a bottle of hot sauce, maple syrup, a chicken drumstick, and a piece of a hard butterscotch candy to drop into the mug, “Okay, that I can buy, you were way too busy to notice what’s been going on with you on tour. Just the same how I didn’t know you swing that way. And before you ask, no, I don’t really care because I know a student here at CHS that’s a Lesbian.”

“Oh… Thanks, I guess…” Harmonic trailed off, unable to take his eyes off the other teacher’s floating cup, “Could you put a hand under it? I’m sorry but it’s kinda unnerving when it’s floating like that.”

Rolling his eyes, the teacher with the hodge-podge coat grabbed the cup. Mr. Disc took one sip of his coffee before spitting it in a sink, “Note to self, lay off the drumstick.”

Harmonic stepped back, “Okay then… By-the-way, you haven’t seen Ms. Sunsine lately, have you?”

The Art teacher looked at the clock, “She should be here any second now.”

As if on cue, the door opened to reveal Principal Celestia. She smiled warmly, “Harmonic dear, welcome back to the team.” Harmonic just simply nodded, taking a sip from his coffee, “So, are you both ready for the new trimester?”

“I hope so,” the Orchestra teacher commented, “It’s been a while that I’ve done this.”

“Oh there’s no need to worry,” she said, “From what I’ve heard, our students are quite easy to work with, and I think you’ll fit in just fine.”

“She’s right,” Mr. Disc said, throwing away the coffee soaked drumstick, “This school is undergoing a kind of rebirth in the arts, with grades going up and all that. Besides, luckily for you, many are taking an interest in music, like how my students are practically lining around the block to be in my classroom.”

“That’s because you’re the one who can do weird magic tricks,” Celestia pointed out.

“Which reminds me,” Julius bumped his elbow against Harmonic, “We have new rules for some of the students here.”

“What rules?”

“I assume you’ve heard about some of our students learning their… magical abilities, have you?” Harmonic shrugged, “Anyway, Luna and I have installed new rules such as no flying in the halls, no using magic while taking tests, or be careful of using your strength while on school grounds. Oh, and gave you teachers some room in whether or not to allow students to use their magic during class hours.”

The Orchestra Teacher sides stepped, “Um. Okay then… I’ll keep that in mind. But for now,” he said while downing the last bit from his mug, “I think I should get to my class.” He started to grab his school papers and his violin coffin case when Celestia stopped him.

“Harmonic, look, I do appreciate you coming back to the school, especially after what happened in January. If there’s anything you need to-”

“Boss,” the Violinist cut her off as he went around her, “I really need to get to my students now.”

He left the Lounge before she could finish what he was sick of hearing. The old, “Oh everything’s going to be fine,” or “You’ll get over it soon enough,” or “Always keep Color in your Heart,” and all the other cold cliché’s that he’s sick of hearing. This wasn’t needed, especially this early in the day where he was returning to his old job.

Even though that he got a different classroom this time, Room 108 was much more spacious than his old one. There were four high-rises, platforms that were covered in the same ugly linoleum carpet. On these levels were rows of chairs and music stands with the covered up processions in the back. In front of those platforms were a tinny desk, a wooden stool, and a blank chalkboard. And above that was the clock that showed that it was almost seven.

So placing his violin case on the desk and sitting on the hard stool, he looked over his schedule and the names of students in each class of the day. Along with the musical scores for these orchestras to study, by now he started to have second thoughts.

But soon, students started to trickle in, taking a seat among the high-rises. Some of them already had brought their instruments while most did not.

Once the bell rang for the first hour to begin, Harmonic cleared his throat to silence the students small talk, “Good morning everybody. Welcome to Orchestra 102, I’m Harmonic Trotivari. But I wouldn’t mind if you called me Mr. H, I’ll be your teacher for this final trimester.”

A hand was raisin, “Wait, you’re Harmonic Trotivari? As in that violin guy that just quit out of the blue?”

He sighed, “Yep, the very same. Although, I preferred to be called a ‘Violinist,’ and yes, I did quit my job as a concert Violinist across the country. You might say that I’ve forced myself into retirement.”

Another hand was raised, “If you’re retired, why are you here?”

“Well… Let’s just say that I’m going through some hard times and I needed something from locking myself away completely. A sort of hobby that’s constructive. So even in my retirement, I chose to do this because even with all the money I’ve made, at least I would be doing something to give what I know back. But anyway,” he started to pass out the syllabus out, “In this class, you are required only three things. The first is that you need an instrument, and to make sure you bring that said instrument with you to class since its part of your grade. The second is that you are all required to practice a classical piece, as well as an arrangement of a recent song. The third is that all of you must vote on what music that all of you will be committed to playing in this class. In other words, bring your instrument, and vote on one classical piece and a pop song, both of which I’ve listed on the syllabus.

“Today, we will only be introducing ourselves, and talk about music for a bit. However, starting tomorrow, you are expected to be here with your instrument, and I’ll provide the music sheets for you. Any questions?”

A student raised her hand and asked, “Can we use magic in this class?”

The teacher blinked, “Huh?”

“I’m asking because some of the teachers allow us to use it for our studies, so what’s your policy here?”

“Uh… I don’t think we’ll be using it here,” there was a collective grunt from the students, so shaking off from such a strange question, he continued, “Any other questions?”

“Where do we get the instruments if we don’t own any?”

“If I remember right, this school has a music department where there’s a room full of instruments to rent, which you should get your money back by the end of the trimester if you return it in good condition.”

Once all the questions were answered and Harmonic had everyone introduce themselves and what they play, he was pleased to hear that not only everyone in the room has some experience, but a few know how to play more than one instrument.

“Okay, now comes the important part of the class, we need to vote on what we’re going to play, just like how any other orchestra operates. Keep in mind, I’ve chosen each and every one of these carefully. All of them are a bit challenging but I think these will be something to expand your previous experiences. So, let’s start with the classical pieces. Those for Bach?” No hands were raised, “Handel?” same response, “Mozart?” But no one dared vote. “Not even Beethoven?”

But his class was still.

“Come on, you guys get the first pick. And these are really good ones here… No one?” A blue hand in the back raised his hand, “Yes… Soarin Cloudline, isn’t it?” he nodded, “You have a comment or a question?”

“Actually sir, I think the reason why nobody’s raising their hands is that I don’t think we know anything about these guys.”

The Orchestra Teacher sighed and went over to his violin case, “Why am I not surprised,” he muttered as he unlatched his coffin case. “Believe it or not, all of you have indeed have heard a few melodies from these composers before.”

Taking out his violin and tightening up his bow, he placed the instrument underneath his chin, “For example, have any of you ever heard of this tune?” With his bow, he started to strike up a tune from Mozart’s Night Music.

“Hey, I’ve heard that before,” a mint green teen said.

“For where… Lyra Heartstrings, isn’t it?” he asked as he continued to play.

She nodded, “On T.V. in the background where it shows some fancy restaurant.”

Harmonic stopped playing, “Okay, how about this?” the Violinist suddenly changed the tune to Vivaldi’s spring.

“I’ve heard that before,” the girl sitting next to Lyra piped up.

“Okay, what’s your name again?”

“Sweetie Drops, but Bon Bon is fine.”

“And where have you heard it?”

“It was some commercial, I think it was soap add or something.”

Once again, Mr. H stopped playing, “Okay, now here’s a tricky one,” then the Violinist started to play notes that went from the low notes on the low string to scaling up to the higher notes on the fingerboard and back again. He did this five times before his bow set aflame of notes that swarmed in the Orchestra room like bees, leaving his students gawking at this impossibly to face paced melody. His spider-like fingers were almost a blur as far as those on looking teenagers could see. He finished this storm of a melody with doing the high and low scales as he did in the beginning.

“How did you do that?” one of his students asked.

The Orchestra Teacher chuckled, “Years of dispensary practice. So, can anyone in this room guess who wrote that?”

For a moment, no one moved, Harmonic was about to give the answer when a lone yellow hand was raised with uncertainty.

“Um… Braeburn Apple, is it?”

He nodded, “Ah’ve heard it once befor’ sir. But Ah can’t say if Ah gets the name right. Was it, Pad… Pan… Pago…”

“Paganini.”

“Yeah!” the student with flaming orange hair exclaimed, “That’s it. Ah,’ve think Ah saw it somewhere on YouTube.”

“Alright,” Harmonic sat his violin back in its case, “did you like it?”

“Replace it with an electric guitar and you’ve got a one really cool solo,” Soarin commented, and the other students around the room agreed.

“Yes, I can see that,” the teacher nodded. “The point here is that most of the music I’ve given you to choose from, you have heard it before somewhere. In fact, a lot of them are quite fun to play too once you got all the notes down.”

A had was raised, “Do you have a favorite?”

“I do, the First Movement of Tchaikovsky’s 1st Violin Concerto.”

“Why not we do that?” Bon Bon asked.

“Are you sure about it,” Harmonic inquired, “It is a bit challenging since it goes from one key to the next, and there are rhythms that switch frequently. However, I wouldn’t have put it on the syllabus if I didn’t think you could do it. So is that what you want to do?”

Many shrugged but said that they would give it a try.

“Very well, but what about the next song?”

_*_

“So,” Lyra sat her tray down on one of the cafeteria tables, “How do you like your teachers?”

Bon Bon placed her tray next to her before she sat down, “I think I have a good feeling with this trimester – although, I’m kinda disappointed about getting Ms. Spitfire for P.E. in third hour.”

“Look on the bright side,” the mint girl opened up her cup of fruit cocktail, “At least we get to be in a few classes where we’re together.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Bon Bon pulled her long blue and pink hair out of the way. “Orchestra’s going to be interesting, and at least you’ll have your own personal tutor in algebra.”

“Tell me about it, I’m glad I know someone who knows how to translate whatever the teacher is saying into plain English.”

“It’s not as hard as you think,” Sweetie Drops opened her milk carton, “You just need to get some of the rules down, you know? Just don’t worry all too much; I think you’ll do fine.”

“Speaking of doing fine, what’s your take on the new music teacher?”

“Mr. H? I don’t know to be honest. He seems like a nice guy, he kinda seemed to come off as… how do I say this?”

“Kinda cold?”

“A little I guess,” Bon Bon shrugged, “Maybe he’s just new here and all. Perhaps he’ll warm up a bit.”

“What instrument do are you going to play in that class?”

“Hmm… I’m still thinking. For both of the pieces we’re gonna play, they don’t have a piano, and you’ve put dibs on the harp.”

“So you haven’t figured out yet?” Lyra inquired as she scooped up some of the fake mash potatoes.

Bon Bon sighed, “The only thing I could think of is dusting the old horn, except I haven’t even used it since Elementary School.”

“I remember that, especially when your cheeks would puff out like chipmunk stuff its mouth full of acorns.” Lyra laughed at the memory while Sweetie Drops only smiled.

“Yeah, I kinda hated it as a kid. But I guess I could dust it off and see if that thing is any more tolerable now.”

“Who knows, maybe it’ll click with ya this time. Besides, I’m kinda looking forward to playing the harp myself. It’s kinda just a bigger version of the lyre anyway, right?”

“I wouldn’t know. I never played either of those.”

The two of them ate up some of what the school calls “food” for a few minutes. Trying to chew through and swallow through some of what the school district board insists that is “notorious.” However, the silence didn’t last long when Bon Bon spoke up.

“Why do you think Mr. H retired?”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“For one, the guy looks like he’s in his thirties or forties right? And someone said that he was a concert Violinist too, so why to give that up for teaching?”

“That’s… actually a good question,” Lyra put down her plastic fork and reaches into her pocket for her cell phone. After taping on the screen for the internet, she typed their new teacher’s name and hit search. Immediately, a few articles come up. She narrowed her search down to recent news, “Oh…” Lyra began to read through the news article that was a couple months old.

“Well? What did you find?”

The mint girl didn’t say anything but handed her phone over to Sweetie Drops.

“Death of Spouse Forces Violinist into Early Retirement,” she read. “Both the Art and Music world has experienced a tragedy when Color Spectrum Trotivari had passed away (age 38), sending his husband, Harmonic Trotivari, into a deep depression. Since the funeral, Harmonic had ceased all future tours. Both he and his family had declined for comment.

“The Painter’s health was under wraps for several months before he passed away 2:14 p.m. on January 9th. The exact cause of death is currently unknown, but colleges noted that he was coughing up blood days several days before.

“Rumor has it that he was working on their family portrait, but since it was left unfinished, Harmonic had hidden it away from public view.” At this point, Bon Bon stopped reading.

“First off, man that sucks,” Lyra commented. “And two, did that article just say that Mr. H had a husband?”

“In other words, our teacher’s gay,” she gave Lyra back her phone, “Huh, that’s new.”

“Do you think we should do something?”

“Like what? He’s probably having enough of a hard time as it is.”

“Yeah, but remember your Uncle Liquorish,” the mint student pointed out, “and how bummed out you were for a while?”

Bon Bon nodded with a frown, “I do.”

“And how that you were so sad all the time to the point you wouldn’t want to hang out with anyone, not even me?” Lyra put an arm around her shoulder and added, “You got so depressed that you didn’t even bother to respond to my texts, or my emails no less?”

“Where are you getting at?”

“The point here is that even though you hated the idea of being around anyone when you’re in your ‘woe is me’ mood, you needed someone to be by your side.”

“But what do you suggest we do? Bring him a batch of brownies to class?”

“No, tempting but no – I’m thinking that we need to figure out how to cheer Mr. H up by convincing that it isn’t the end of the world for him.”

“That might be hard to pull off since the guy is like two or three times older than us.”

“Hey, sadness is still sadness, no matter how old you are. Besides, worst case scenario is that he gets a restraining order for us.”

“And what’s the best case scenario?”

“That he’ll thank us personally with high grades and a couple of diamond earrings.”

Bon Bon looked over to her, “You’re awful.”

She smiled, “I know.”

“Come on, let’s finish lunch real quick. The bell’s gonna ring soon.”

Once they downed their lunches, and Lyra help levitates the trash into a nearby can, the two girls grabbed their text and notebooks and started to go their separate ways.

“Oh, hey Bonnie,” the green girl stopped her, “I nearly forgot,” after giving Sweetie Drops a quick kiss on the cheek, she moved down the hall of lockers. “See ya later.”

_*_

“How are your teachers?” the blue athlete asked, turning around in his seat on the bus.

“Fine Ah suppose,” Braeburn replied, looking at the window at the passing yards of green grass and sprouting flowers, “What ya think of the new teacher in first ‘our?”

“Other than the guy can play a mean violin? I guess he’s alright.”

The Apple Farmer nodded, “Did ya say that yer gonna sign up for playin’ the drums?”

“And got it?” he grinned, “Yeah, I think it’s gonna be kinda cool to do something like that, playing the drums and all that.”

“Ah admit, Ah’m a bit nervous myself since Ah only play the fiddle a bit.”

“You think you’re going to do okay in Mr. H’s class?”

Braeburn shrugged, “Maybe. The only thin’ classical Ah’ve done was playin’ Ode ta Joy, not sure about this though.”

“C’mon buddy, I think you’ll do great.”

The yellow cowboy turned to him with an eyebrow raised, “Have ya ever heard me play?”

“A little, sometimes when I go over to your place to hang out, I at times hear some violin music coming from your room.”

“Oh…” Braeburn looked down in embarrassment, “Am Ah that bad?”

“Nah dude, from what bit and pieces I’ve heard, you sounded great.”

His friend didn’t reply other than hid his face from his wide brim hat.

“Say,” Soarin said, trying to start up another conversation, “Do ya remember last year, when we’ve met our doubles?”

“Ah remember. Even got the chance ta talk to me too. Why’d you ask?”

“Do you think that Mr. H has a double in the pony world?” this got his friend’s attention and he asked what he meant. “Think about it, from what we know, everyone in town has some twin living in that world, right? So who’s to say that the new guy doesn’t have a double too? If so, what do you think that Mr. H is like? Is he like a Pegasus like mine, or an Earth Pony like yours, Unicorn or what?”

“Ah wouldn’t know, haven’t got the chance ta speak with mah other self, or even send him a letter. Speakin’ of double’s, what has yers been doin’ lately?”

“Kinda what I’ve been doing now,” the athlete folded his arms around the back of his head. “He’s been showing off his moves like I’ve been doing with the team. That and tells me to practice my flying, it might come in handy sometime.”

“Have ya?”

“Eh, only in the back yard, and low to the ground. Mom still isn’t used to me sprouting my wings now and then, even though my double has taught me how.”

“That Ah can relate, Pa’s not sure if he trusts my new kickin’ ability to make all the apples from the tree fall in one go. Although, with cousin AJ, Mac, and lil’ AB have been usin’ it ta cut the time durin’ Cider Season.”

“I can imagine, but too bad for us that we’re not allowed to use magic in our sports, I just think us flyin’ would make things more interesting.”

Braeburn chuckled, “Yeah, Ah can picture it now. Your team jus’ passin’ the ball in the air while the other team is jumpin’ to reach ya like kiddies tryin’ ta reach a cookie on a high cabinet.”

The two of them laughed for a bit at the whole idea of it all when Soarin said, “Mind if I change the subject a bit?”

“Sure.”

“So…” he said slyly, “You know Fleetfoot?”

“Kinda, ain’t she on the Wondercolts?”

“Yeah,” Sorain Cloudview grinned, “I just asked her out on a date on Saturday.” Braeburn’s smile dropped, “She said yes since she dumped her boyfriend a while ago and said that she would give me a chance and…” from this point, the cowboy put on the mask of contempt and gazed out the window. He wasn’t paying attention now. Why would he? Knowing Soarin, he’s just going to blabber on how Lady X is the best thing since bottled cider and apple pie. Yet, when he speaks so highly of someone else but him, the Apple Farmer couldn’t help but feel completely alone on that moving bus. As if any possibility that-

“So what about you?”

“Wha?” Braeburn snapped out of his thoughts.

Soarin rolled his eyes, “I said what about you? Got an eye on someone?”

“Uh…” now the yellow student looked away.

His friend grinned, “C’mon Brae, you can tell me. You did come out to me last year didn’t ya?”

“W-Well... it ain’t important.”

“Don’t give me that dude, who’s the guy anyway?”

“Soar, Ah haven’t asked anyone out.”

“Why not?”

“Because… Ah just don’t know.” His friend raised an eyebrow, but Braeburn shook his head, “It jus’ ain’t easy fer me.”

“To what? Ask the guy out?”

“Tell me somethin’ Soar,” he pointed at him, “Except fer me, name right now any guy you know that’s either gay or bi.”

“Easy, there’s… uh…” Soarin’s mind went completely blank. He tried to call back every student’s name that was a guy, but as soon as he did so, he couldn’t filter down any of them that weren’t straight.

“Ah rest mah case,” Braeburn slumped back in his seat.

“C’mon man, don’t be like that; I’m sure there’s somebody out there for ya.”

The farmer stayed silent.

“Look, what do you want me to say?”

“…. Ah… Ah, don’t know.”

Then, the athlete realized something, “Hang on… you do have an eye on someone already, do you?”

Braeburn hesitated, “Maybe,” he said softly.

“Maybe what?”

His friend snorted, “Well… maybe Ah has a bit of a crush on someone, but knows that they won’t like me in the same way.”

“But how’d you know?”

“Because… he goes out with other girls, isn’t that a dead give-a-way?”

“Why not try asking?” his friend looked up, “I can’t say that it would be easy, but I guess you wouldn’t really know unless you just give it a shot.”

“And if he says no?”

“Then he says no, but you wouldn’t know until you try dude,” the bus stopped, to which Soarin puts on his backpack. “See ya Brea, and think about what I’ve said.”

The blue athlete started to make his way down the middle of the bus when from behind, his friend called out, “Soarin!”

He turned around, “Hm?”

Braeburn opened his mouth, but he hesitated for a moment before he settled on smiling, “See ya tomorrow.”

Soarin waved, “You too man.” And with that, the blue athlete left off the bus.

Once the wheels started rolling and his friend was out of sight, the Apple Farmer took off his hat and banged his head against the seat, ‘Why?’ he thought to himself, ‘Of all the people that Ah could fall head over heels with, why him? Why Soarin?’