Noteworthy released a wearied sigh and massaged his forehead with a hoof. Today had been a long, hard, and largely uneventful day. It wasn't easy to peddle original songs to the ponies in this age, or at least if it was it wasn't for him. 'You write music well, but we just need something with a little more zip', 'This won't sell. Offer up something with a beat to it next time', 'We can't use this stuff', 'Sorry. Maybe you could try someplace else'... Noteworthy had heard phrases like this all day long. What had happened to the music scene? Didn't anyone appreciate true art anymore? Noteworthy sighed again. He already seemed to know the answer. The waitress across the counter slid him his hot chocolate.
"Thanks," he told her quietly.
Noteworthy lifted the mug to his lips and took a cautious sip... Too hot. He set the mug back down again and pushed it away a little. He'd have to wait for the drink to cool first, not that it mattered, as he had nowhere else more important to be at the moment. His ears perked up at the sound of the coffee shop's bell tinkling. Noteworthy turned his head to see a familiar mare had just walked in. His eyes widened and he turned away, trying not to stare. He heard her hoofsteps as she walked up to the counter just a few yards from him. The waitress greeted the light gray mare cheerfully and took her order - it was her usual. The waitress hadn't remembered her preference, but he certainly had.
A medium hot chocolate and an oatmeal cookie. To stay.
Noteworthy looked over his shoulder as the mare thanked the waitress and took her usual spot in a nearby booth. She set down her cello case and retrieved a pen and a folded music sheet from her instrument's zip-pouch, commencing to read the incomplete melody over, keeping the pen handy for any appropriate additions that came to mind. She pushed a stray hair of her dark mane aside and her violet eyes narrowed in concentration. She pressed the back tip of the pen to the bottom of her lip in thought, resting her cheek on a forehoof and humming quietly to herself every so often in attempt to fine tune her composition. Noteworthy couldn't help but think she looked just a little bit adorable whenever she worked on a piece.
He assumed that she was a cellist in one of those orchestras that played late into the evening, though he couldn't hazard a guess as to precisely which one. There had been so many times he had tried to get up the courage to approach her, even just to say hi, but he'd never been able to manage it. He didn't even know her name... just figured that it must be the most beautiful one in the world. Once, he even wrote a note for the coffee shop's suggestion box, urging them to switch the system from 'take a number' to 'what's your name?', though nothing had ever came of it; curse you coffee shop efficiency!
The waitress abruptly approached the mare with her order, and Noteworthy averted his gaze once more, only to glance back after the mug and cookie had been delivered. He smiled as the mare bit off a chunk of cookie, only to turn her attention back to paper; she already knew the drink was still too hot, as it always was when first served. Noteworthy turned his attention back to his own mug, testing the temperature carefully with a small sip... It was just right. He began to enjoy the rich concoction steadily as he pondered his situation.
She was right there just yards away, just as lovely and oblivious to his presence as ever. Why was this so hard? What was the big deal about walking up to somepony and starting a conversation? 'Hey, I'm Noteworthy. I've seen you around and it seems that we both like hot chocolate and have musically-related talents. Would you like some company?' He winced inwardly. That actually seemed a bit creepy. Oh! Of course! Why hadn't he thought of it before?! He could approach her with one of his songs and ask her for her opinion on it - that might work!
He turned to look over his shoulder at her once more; Her brows were furrowed in concentration and she suddenly gasped inaudibly, quickly jotting something down onto the music sheet with a smile. He turned away. Meh, it probably wouldn't work anyways. He took another sip from his mug, frowning. She'd probably just think he was one of those annoying upstarts who's always trying to get somepony to hear their work - she'd kind of be right too. He slumped in his seat a bit. Noteworthy felt like such a coward.
The coffee shop bell tingled again, and he turned his head to see a stallion had just walked in. He had a light brown coat, a dark brown mane that was smoothed back, periwinkle blue eyes, and he wore a gray fedora, as well as a white collar adorned with a red bow-tie. The stallion turned to the waitress with half-lidded eyes and a disinterested expression, and this was when Noteworthy noticed that this new stranger also had music notes as his cutie mark.
"I'd like a small black decaf," the stallion told the waitress. Noteworthy couldn't help but think the stallion's voice simply reeked of pretentiousness: it was deep and smooth, and Noteworthy thought it would be best described as 'false suave'.
The stallion scanned the coffee shop interior, zeroing in on the gray mare's cello case. The stallion approached the booth only to raise his voice upon seeing the occupant.
"Octavia!" he called, causing her to turn her head. "I didn't expect to see you here."
Octavia - so that was her name. It sounded just as elegant as Noteworthy had thought it would.
"Oh yeah, I like to come here after a performance. It's quiet and the hot chocolate's good," Octavia replied with a smile.
"Mind if I join you?" the stallion inquired, his tone smarmy.
"Sure Concerto," the mare replied kindly, gesturing across from her. "Have a seat."
Noteworthy watched as the stallion sat down, and it was at this point he realized this guy must be one of her fellow orchestra members, as that would explain why they both had similar bow-tie collars, though he noted that Octavia's tie was contrastly the color pink.
"I don't ordinarily stop by anywhere after a concert," Concerto remarked with a smirk, "but today I simply had to satisfy my craving for something hot." The waitress came by just then and dropped off the stallion's order, only for Concerto to call after her. "Excuse me, miss," he said, "but I ordered a small."
The waitress smiled amiably. "Oh," she said. "My mistake. You can have the medium at no extra charge."
Noteworthy smiled, thinking that was very nice of her.
"No!" came Concerto's smug voice. "I ordered a small and a small is what I want! Please, take it back!"
Noteworthy's mouth fell open in astonishment at the stallion's response, and Octavia bit her lip in embarrassment as the waitress awkwardly scooped up Concerto's cup and walked away with it.
"You didn't need to make a big deal out of it," Octavia warbled quietly. "And if you wanted less you could've just drank less."
"It's the principle of the thing!" Concerto replied, smacking a hoof against the table in mild annoyance. "Whenever I go to these inferior establishments, the help never seem to be able to get it right! I should get exactly what I pay for! Nothing more; nothing less!"
Upon finishing his impromptu rant, the stallion's eyes descended to the music sheet in front of Octavia. Concerto nonchalantly slid the piece of paper over to himself and raised an eyebrow, oblivious to Octavia's failed attempt to stop it with her hoof. Concerto began to speed-read the paper's contents. "This isn't the music that the maestro told us to practice," he remarked dryly.
"I know," Octavia responded simply, distractedly making a circle with her hoof against the tabletop. "It's just something I was writing."
"Again?" Concerto remarked irritably, setting the paper back down on the table. "Octavia, we've been over this. You're a cellist, not a composer!"
Noteworthy felt a burning sensation starting to rise in his chest. This guy was making him angrier by the minute.
"It's just something I like to do," Octavia responded gently. "I mean, I hardly see that there's anything wrong in—"
"But there IS something wrong in it," Concerto interrupted her firmly. "Maybe if you frittered away less of your valuable time 'composing' and practiced more, you wouldn't have made those glaring errors in your playing this evening!"
"That was in rehearsal!" Octavia argued, her voice raised only slightly. "During the performance it was just fine!"
"That's precisely my point, Octavia; fine. Your playing was 'fine'. If only you were just a little more dedicated, then perhaps you'd be better than fine; perhaps you'd play as brilliantly as I do!" Octavia opened her mouth to voice a rebuttal, but abruptly Concerto stood up, pushing the music sheet toward her. "Very well," he said. "If you prefer to waste your off-hours playing composer instead of actually improving your craft, be my guest!"
The stallion made for the door walking briskly, and the coffee shop bell tingled joyously upon his exiting. Octavia let out a light sigh and picked up the sheet music in her forehooves, scanning the page for a few moments before setting it down and looking away with a dejected expression upon her face. Noteworthy couldn't help but feel more than a little bad for her; she'd just been rejected in much the same way he had been most of the day. He wanted to do something to encourage her, but what? It was just at this moment that the waitress returned with the small coffee, looking about in confusion when she saw that the difficult stallion was no longer there.
"Did I just hear him leave?" the waitress asked. She had been busy washing a small cup in the back and had missed Concerto's dramatic exit.
"Yeah," Octavia monotoned, not looking up at her. "It's alright. Just add it to my bill."
The waitress sighed pointedly and left the cup to return to her place behind the counter, murmuring irritably something about 'finicky', 'up and left', and 'not good enough for him'.
Octavia reached over and pulled her wallet out of her cello case pouch. She retrieved a good number of bits to pay for everything - it being conspicuously more than two drinks and a cookie should cost. It seemed she felt it was necessary to give the waitress a big tip after the rude way her colleague had acted. Octavia slid the bits to the corner of the table and slumped in her seat, staring off into space. Noteworthy couldn't take it anymore. He stood up and - heart pounding - walked over to the gray mare, who was still too deep in thought to notice him.
"Ahem," Noteworthy cleared his throat, causing Octavia to turn her eyes to him and sit up straight. "Um..." She was looking at him. Those big violet eyes were actually looking at him! Oh what had he even been thinking?! He swallowed nervously. "I... I..." He looked down at the music sheet on the table. "I'm a songwriter!" he blurted out. Octavia raised her eyebrows. "Can... can I read your song?" he finished.
There was a painful silence during which Noteworthy inwardly kicked himself. Stupid, stupid, stupid! he thought. You've ruined everything. This is so weird. She thinks you're weird. Why did you even get out of bed this mor—
"It's not finished," Octavia replied, shifting the paper slightly with a hoof.
"Uhh... That's okay." He forced a smile.
Octavia looked up at him, her upper teeth playing with her bottom lip in a nervousness. "I'm not a professional composer," she said, squinting her eyes into what appeared to be an uneasy and apologetic expression.
"And there are ponies who say I'm not one either," he responded, smiling.
Octavia laughed, making that tightness in Noteworthy's chest loosen just a bit with the sound. "Sure," she said, grinning, "but just don't expect much."
Noteworthy slid into the seat across from her, and after placing his reading glasses on his snout began to quietly read her work. Octavia watched him nervously, biting her lower lip as he read, humming to himself at some of the parts. After about a minute he set the paper down, looking to her with his yellow eyes, Octavia's expression betraying her anxious anticipation.
"It's good," he stated, smiling.
"It is?!" Octavia asked excitedly, hardly believing her ears.
"Yes. Actually it's very good," he told her. "I especially liked the this portion here." He pointed with his hoof. "I think that part would sound especially nice on the violin."
"I know!" Octavia responded. "That's exactly what I was thinking! I know that usually a violin solo doesn't really go with this sort of song, but I thought it would really give it that subtle touch of originality, and it really sets off the rest of the piece," she finished with a smile.
"You know, you shouldn't listen to that guy," Noteworthy said seriously. "You're a very talented songwriter. I'd actually like to see more of your work."
Octavia beamed. "Really? I mean, really?"
"Really." He grinned.
Octavia's eyes slid over to the stool Noteworthy had been sitting on, and she noticed a briefcase sat on the floor. She raised an eyebrow and looked to him smugly. "On one condition," she told him.
"Oh?" His expression turned confused. "And what might that be?"
"That you let me read some of your songs too."
Noteworthy swallowed. "Uhh... Are you sure you wanna see those? Ponies don't tend to... I mean..." She was looking at him with those lovely violet eyes, smiling. Noteworthy's rigid form eased and he smiled a crooked smile back at her. "Sure," he told her. "I guess that seems fair."
The pair chattered amiably, reading each other's songs and laughing at things the other said long into the night. And before the two ponies parted ways they exchanged information, planning on meeting up again some other evening to continue their discussion. Noteworthy promised to go to one of Octavia's performances, and she agreed to help him with his presentation when he tried to get somepony to buy one of his songs. The ponies would soon grow closer than ever to one other, and to think it all began on that one evening when Noteworthy had finally found... just for a moment... that reckless courage needed to simply walk over to somepony... and say something.
Author's Note
Please direct your grammar and spelling corrections to PM. Thank you. 
