Affettuoso: A Romance in Four Parts

Vinyl frowned at her bottle of water, a bottle which had appeared silently at her equipment. Vinyl knew Octavia had dropped it off, but Vinyl hadn’t seen hide nor hair of her housemate.

Vinyl tossed the bottle to the floor in disgust. Everything was wrong. Her set had felt flat. She didn’t feel like hitting up girls to take home tonight. Hell, she didn’t really even feel like going home. And all because of her.

“I knew it was a mistake,” she muttered to herself. “Damned Pinkie.”

She couldn’t even kick Octavia out. Not without being a total cunt. Not that she wanted to, if she were honest. Fuck, forget Tavi being hot, she did dishes. Vinyl’s kitchen had never been so clean. She was even drinking out of glasses on a regular basis, and not just plastic drive-thru drink cups.

Vinyl groaned and bent down to retrieve her water bottle. Maybe a good night’s sleep would help, she thought. Maybe a quicky before bed. Maybe a toke…

No, that’s what’d started this mess.

Of course, something out of her own stash would be safe...

Vinyl wrenched the top off the bottle and took a long swig.

Damn Octavia for making her even think about this shit, she thought. The whole week had been shit.

She heaved herself out of her chair.

She was too tired to think. It was time to go home.

~~

Octavia yawned and rolled over on her mattress, relishing the warm, comfortable, pre-waking feeling. As she drowsed, luxuriating in the warmth of her blankets, an idea pierced her thoughts.

A week. A full week had passed since the tumultuous outing.

Octavia had been keeping some distance between her and Vinyl since the incident, a fact she was not proud of. She’d started with the best of intentions, trying to sort out her thoughts, but as the days dragged on, Octavia began to suspect she was just stalling. On the other hand, Vinyl had not made any overtures of breaching the distance, even after Octavia had declared them friends. Did she not feel the same? Was she simply respecting Octavia’s space?

Octavia curled into a ball, pulling her legs close to her chest. If it was this complicated when they were just friends, how much worse would it be if they became something more?

Did Vinyl even want that?

Did she?

Octavia let out a sigh and rolled over. She reached out and opened her bedside table drawer and fished out her phone. As she flipped it open, her eyebrows went up.

A message.

Octavia quickly hit her voicemail and put the phone to her ear.

‘Hello, Octavia, this is Third Inversion. We met at dinner a week ago. Anyway, if you’re interested, I might have some session work for you. My number is…’

Octavia threw herself off the bed, desperate for a pen and paper.

Work.

She was being offered work.

It didn’t matter what it was. She’d play the Funky Chicken or the Hokey Pokey as long as it meant work.

~~

The first shred of reality that pierced Vinyls slumber was music. Not her normal music, not the synthesized beats and tones of her EDM, but rich, clear tones, rising and falling in time. The notes had no melody, and barely any rhyme or reason, yet they suited Vinyls half-awakened state as an appropriate soundtrack. Perhaps they were part of a fading dream.

Vinyl opened her eyes. The music remained. She rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling, listening to the seemingly random notes floating through her room. There was only one possible source, yet this was a new occurrence. A sudden change in the status quo.

Curiosity got the better of her. She stood up and walked out of the room, and stood before the door to the adjacent room. The door stood slightly ajar. Vinyl pushed it open gingerly.

Octavia sat in a chair playing her cello. She wore simple knit cotton shorts, and a cropped tee, yet for a moment she was the most beautiful woman on earth. It was the look on her face that created the burning in Vinyl’s chest. Her eyes were closed, and she swayed with the notes, completely engrossed in the act of drawing music from the instrument before her.

Vinyl gazed in rapture a musician being one with her instrument. She wondered if other people saw her the same way when she played at the club.

It was then that the music screeched to a halt.

“Vinyl!” Octavia gasped. “How long have you been standing there? Did… did I wake you?”

“N-no!” Vinyl stammered. “I… I j-just h-heard you playing, and the door was… open...ish, and I didn’t mean to bust in on you… I…”

Octavia chuckled, a fact that threw Vinyl for a loop.

“Please,” Octavia said. “It’s my fault for practicing this early in the morning. Vinyl… I have work!’

“Eh?” Vinyl managed to squeak out.

“Your friend Third, he has some session work for me! I’m waiting for him to send me the pieces, but I was just so excited, I couldn’t help but warm up a bit, and... I’m afraid you caught me noodling around a bit.”

Octavia blushed, but the smile didn’t leave her face.

“I… You play really well,” Vinyl said.

Octavia’s smile softened.

“Well... thank you. I like to think so, of course. But it’s nice to be told.”

Silence stretched out between them. Despite what Vinyl expected, it wasn’t an awkward silence. There was something comfortable about it, though there was a tension, too, as though there was expectancy in the air.

Octavia isn’t upset with me, Vinyl realized. She’s talking to me like a friend.

“I… I mean it,” Vinyl said, ending the pregnant pause, “and I’m hard to please. But you make that cello sing. I… I’m a bit jealous, actually. I’ve never had a ‘normal’ instrument, and lately, well….”

“Ah,” Octavia said with a frown. “Hitting a slump, are we? I thought it sounded like your heart wasn’t in it last night.”

Vinyl tensed.

“Don’t be like that,” Octavia said. “We all hit slumps now and then. Honestly, I’m surprised, considering how often you play, that you haven’t burned yourself out.”

“DJ P0N-3 does not slump,” Vinyl protested.

“Please,” Octavia said. “Even Beethoven wrote a dud.”

Octavia set her cello aside and stood, stretching. She thrust her chest out as her back popped and cracked.

“I’m not going to tell you how to do your business,” Octavia said, “but I usually find I need to take a break when that happens. You know, get away and do something else.”

Octavia gave Vinyl a soft smile.

“Well, that’s me anyway. I’m sure you have your own ways to relax.”

She walked toward Vinyl, stopping when she was mere inches away.

Vinyl stiffened at the closeness between them. She realized she could smell Tavi. It was far from unpleasant, a mingling of sweat and the aroma of simply existing. Vinyl could find no words to describe it more than just being Octavia.

“Pardon,” Octavia said, jolting Vinyl into presence, “I’d like to go use the loo.”

“Oh,” Vinyl said with a small jump, “sorry.”

She backed out of the doorway, giving Octavia space to pass.

Octavia glided by smoothly.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” she said with a sultry smile as she passed.

“Huh?” Vinyl muttered.

Octavia’s eyes flickered down before she turned and walked to the bathroom.

Vinyl looked down. Her nipples were evident through her tee, poking out proudly.

“Oh my God,” Vinyl groaned, mortified. She crossed her arms over her chest as she felt her face heat. She retreated to her room to let herself calm. As she sat on her bed, feeling the hard nubs rubbing against her shirt, she realized she was feeling heat in more than just her face.

“Stupid, sexy Octavia,” she muttered to herself.

She cursed her body for reacting the way it did, as though she was a teenager who couldn’t control her hormones. If only Tavi hadn’t stood so close, hovering in Vinyl’s personal space like that.

Vinyl gasped. Octavia never did that. She always maintained her very reserved distance. Even if Vinyl was in her way, she would never have stopped that close.

Vinyl burst out of her room in time to see Octavia exiting the bathroom.

“Tavi,” Vinyl called, her finger pointing accusingly. “Were you… flirting with me?”

Octavia actually blushed and looked away.

“You were! You were actually flirting with me!”

“I’m sorry!” Octavia cried. “I was just in such a good mood! I hope I didn’t upset you.”

Vinyl gaped at her incredulously for a moment before busting out in laughter.

“I didn’t know you had it in you!” Vinyl wheezed, holding her belly. “Oh, fuck did you have me going!”

Octavia stared at her, bemused.

“I-I…” Octavia stammered. “Thank you?”

“Oh God,” Vinyl grunted between laughs. “Oh, fuck. And here, I thought you had no sass. All business, and no party in you. Shit was I wrong!”

Octavia pouted at her.

“It’s the accent,” Octavia told her. “People expect a certain amount of decorum to accompany the accent.”

“Well, you won’t fool me again,” Vinyl told her as she regained her composure.

“No duplicity was intended,” Octavia assured her. “I’ve simply been going through a rough patch, and haven’t felt like I could cut loose like that.”

“Well feel free to cut loose any time,” Vinyl said. “I’m glad you feel comfortable enough to do that around me.”

Octavia smiled a small, shy smile, so different from the one she had before. It was tentative. Cautious, as though unsure about risking trust.

“Thank you,” Octavia said, “for allowing me the opportunity to.”

——

Octavia waltzed through the door, swinging her cello through the entrance, and setting it against the wall. The fingers of her left hand danced in the air as her right hand drew and imaginary bow across phantom strings. She strode across the floor, flowing to music only she could hear.

Octavia paused, a frown gracing her lips as she halted both her steps and her hands. She adjusted her fingering, and nodded to herself before resuming her imaginary performance.

Vinyl could only watch this absurd display, a show which ended only when Tavi spun in place and planted herself on the couch.

“Have a good time with Third?” Vinyl asked.

Octavia nodded vigorously.

“It feels like forever since I’ve made real music,” Octavia replied. “I’ve almost forgotten how galvanizing it is. And how exhausting.”

Vinyl let out a sharp bark of a laugh.

“Yeah. I know what you mean. Or I… .”

Octavia looking up sharply.

“Still feeling uninspired?”

Vinyl winced.

“Yeah. I spoke with the club about taking some time off. If nothing else, it gives someone else a chance to shine. And, hey,” Viny flashed a cocky grin. “This way the fans won’t get complacent. After all, if I’m never gone, they never have a chance to miss me.”

Octavia chuckled in response.

“Ever the optimist, I see.”

Vinyl shrugged, and a silence settled over them. It grew and filled the house until it reached every corner, nook, and cranny. Despite this, Vinyl didn’t feel it was uncomfortable. It was pregnant, waiting, yet not awkward.

“Vinyl,” Octavia addressed tentatively. “That composition you wanted to write, have you done anything with it?”

Vinyl shook her head.

“Why?”

“Well… this might be the perfect time to try your hand,” Octavia said. “It’s totally different from what you’ve been doing, and it might help you break out of yourself, so to speak.”

Vinyl pursed her lips, thinking.

“And,” Octavia continued, her voice even softer, “if you like, I could help.”

Vinyl’s head whipped up to gaze at Octavia’s blushing face.

“I don’t have much experience,” Octavia said, “but I’ve taken quite a few music theory classes. I could help build a framework.”

Vinyl’s mouth worked silently.

“Forget I said anything,” Octavia said, standing. “It was a silly idea.”

Octavia walked toward her room.

“Wait,” Vinyl called after her. “I… I think I’d really like that.”

Octavia smiled.

“Good. I look forward to it.”

~~~~~~~

“So…” Vinyl said as they sat at her equipment. “Where do we start?”

“Well… I assume you have some ideas,” Octavia replied. “Melodies? Keys? Themes? If we start going over some, I can help with harmonies and development, and then you can remix to your heart’s content.”

“Um, OK,” Vinyl said. “I guess that makes sense.”

“So,” Octavia said, “what ideas did you have?”

“Um… well,” Vinyl began, “I thought the first track should kinda start like…”

Vinyl output a rhythmic tone from her sequencer.

“Then it should go…”

She scratched pattern on her turntable.

“Then it should end like…”

Vinyl pounded a chord three times on her keyboard.

Octavia could only stare.

“This is going to be more difficult than I imagined,” she said.

~~~

“STOP TELLING ME HOW TO WRITE MY MUSIC!” Vinyl shouted.

“I’m NOT,” Octavia replied. “I’m trying to give you a grounding.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” Vinyl sneered. “I definitely feel like you’re trying to ground me.”

“Stop that,” Octavia snapped. “I’m not your mum.”

“You’ve got that right,” Vinyl responded. “So stop telling me how to do things.”

“I’m not…” Octavia began. “Fine. We’re done.”

Octavia stood from her seat and stomped to her room, slamming the door behind her.

Vinyl snarled and flipped off her sequencer. Most of the work she liked was safely saved away. Anything she lost now was thankfully forgotten.

“Fucking knew that was a mistake,” she mumbled to herself.

Vinyl spun in her chair, letting her head loll back, and reveling in the silly, yet nice feeling sensation of the world rotating around her, and the forces pulling on her head and feet. It was one of life’s simple pleasures, and not one Vinyl would give up easily. Adulthood be damned.

Vinyl put the brakes on when she heard Tavi’s door open.

“Come with me,” Octavia told her.

“Please,” she added in response to Vinyl’s stare.

Vinyl shrugged and stood.

She followed Octavia out of the house, across town, and onto the train.

“Where’re we going?” She asked finally.

“Have you something you’ll be late for?” Octavia asked.

Vinyl shook her head.

“Then trust me.”

Vinyl frowned. Octavia was being her Octavia-est. Vinyl separated in her mind between Tavi and Octavia. Tavi was playful. Cheeky, even. Clever, without being snooty. Octavia was inscrutable. She stood silently, staring with unreadable eyes, and when she finally spoke, she could cut to the core with a word.

Occasionally Vinyl wondered if people saw the same dichotomy between DJ P0N-3 and Vinyl Scratch.

They exited the train, and Vinyl followed Octavia down the streets. Vinyl realized they were skirting the edges of Canterlot, and not necessarily through the best areas.

“Seriously, Tavi,” Vinyl said. “Where’re we going?”

“Almost there,” Octavia said. “Not much further.”

“I asked where we were going, not how long,” Vinyl muttered to herself.

When Octavia finally slowed, they were in front of a tinted glass window decorated with gold lettering.

“A bar?” Vinyl asked. “We came all this way to go to a bar?”

Octavia frowned and nodded toward the door.

Vinyl followed, bemused. She didn’t think Octavia knew any bars. She didn’t seem the type, for one. And two, most of her free time she seemed to spend holed up in her room, or reading in the living room, and she never talked about going out on her days off.

The pair stepped into the dimly lit establishment.

“Hey, there’s the lady,” the bartender announced as they walked in. “Thought you weren’t gonna show tonight.”

“Plans changed,” Octavia said. “Usual for me, and a pint for my friend.”

The bartender looked at Vinyl expectantly.

“Uhhh… Bud?” Vinyl ventured.

Octavia and the bartender shared a look.

“Discovery?” Octavia asked.

“Inna bottle,” the bartender replied.

Octavia shrugged and nodded, and the bartender hurried away.

Vinyl took the opportunity to look around.

The place had a dingy elegance. The furniture, from the stools to the booths, were real hardwood, worn, but obviously maintained. The brass fixtures showed spots of tarnish yet clean, and there wasn’t a speck of dust in the place. Everything, from the hardwood floors, to the well-used dartboard, spoke of equal parts age and care.

The bartender returned with the drinks, a tall glass for Octavia, and a bottle for Vinyl. Vinyl took a cautious sip. It was different, but not undrinkable.

Octavia grabbed her glass and quaffed a quarter of the dark liquid in her glass.

“Didn’t think you really drank,” Vinyl said.

“It’s not drinking if it’s Guinness,” Octavia replied. “Darts?”

Vinyl shrugged. She’d never played darts before, but she was curious what Octavia was doing.

The pair picked up their drinks and moved to the dart board. Octavia plucked the darts off the board and walked to Vinyl, pausing only to frown at the television.

Vinyl glanced back to see a Soccer game playing.

“Your team losing?” she asked.

Octavia shook her head.

“Arsenal game,” she said. “Would it kill them to put on a Burnley match now and then?”

Vinyl had no idea how to respond, so she merely stood as Octavia threw her darts at the board.

When it was Vinyl‘s turn, she looked at the board nervously. She knew she was supposed to throw the darts at the board, and try to get a bull’s eye, but beyond that, she knew nothing about the game. There was nothing to do but woman up and try. She hefted a dart in her hand, testing its weight, and tossed it at the board. It flew high and wide and stuck itself in the wall, missing the board completely.

Octavia gave her an eyebrow-raised look.

Vinyl shrugged uncomfortably.

“So,” she began, chucking the remaining darts at the board. Only one missed the wall, embedding itself in the outer edges of the board.

“What are we doing here?” Vinyl asked as she retrieved her darts.

Octavia took a healthy swig from her glass.

“This… this is sort of my refuge. I come here when I’m feeling unsettled,” she said.

She stepped to the line and readied a dart.

“It reminds me of home. Of… simpler times.”

Octavia tossed a dart, landing it squarely in the 20.

“Father was a nob, but not a twit. He thought nothing of stopping by the pub for a munch, or tossing some darts with the regulars. I think part of it came from not actually having much money. He didn’t have a staff to wait on him or cook his meals. Mum did some of that after they married, of course, but sometimes they still would stop by the pub for a pint and a chat.”

Octavia tossed another, landing another 20.

“That slowed down a bit after I came around, but even then, sometimes we’d all go to the pub for a meal, and to chat with the regulars. Father taught me to play darts. He’d sneak me sips of his Guinness when mum wasn’t looking. He’d sit me up at the bar, and the bartender would give me a pickled egg, or some peanuts, or the occasional sweet.”

Octavia let loose her last dart, sticking it low on the 5.

“After Father died, well… money became even tighter, and the trips to the pub mostly stopped. But whenever I could spare the coin, I’d stop by the pub for a pint and a butty. The old-timers would remember me, and reminisce about Father. The bartender would still slip me a pickled egg on the house. And for a moment, it was like he was still there with me.”

She picked up her glass and sipped her drink.

“I know I can be a bit… passionate about things,” she said, looking Vinyl in the eye. “Mum would probably mutter something along the lines of ‘overbearing’ or ‘tyrannical’ if she were here. But I swear it was never my intent to take your music away from you. The music is yours. I… I just got caught up in the creation process. So if you want to tell me to sod off, I wouldn’t blame you a bit.”

Vinyl took a pull from her bottle, and toed the line, darts in hand.

“If every apology you give is gonna mean beer,” she said bouncing a dart off the wall, “we’re going to get along just fine.”

Another dart hit the wall, this one sticking. The third actually found the board, landing in the 8.

“So you’re only keeping me around for the beer?” Octavia asked with a smile.

Vinyl turned with a smirk, ready to fire back with a retort. When she saw the look on Octavia’s face, the words died in her throat. The smile on Octavia’s face was shy. Vulnerable. Fragile.

Vinyl took a sip from her beer while she considered her response.

“Maybe I keep you around for a lot of reasons. It doesn’t exactly hurt my reputation to have a beautiful woman in my home, but more than that…”

Vinyl looked down at her bottle, and fiddled with it, spinning it in her hands.

“Having someone who will watch my back when I inadvertently take some Vitamin K? Someone that will forgive me after I was an absolute cunt? That means… well, it means a lot.”

Octavia’s smile grew while becoming softer and a bit less forced. A bit more natural.

“Well, I don’t think ill of you. You took in a starving cellist without the promise of repayment, and have been nothing less than hospitable. It’s thanks to you that I’m playing as more than just a hobby again. And you are definitely one of the more talented musicians I’ve ever met, and believe me, I’ve met a few.”

Vinyl felt her face heat. She tipped back her beer to stall and cover.

“Yeah, I’m pretty awesome. I mean, I don’t like to brag… but….”

Octavia gave Vinyl’s arm a swat.

“Talent matched only by your humility,” she said, rolling her eyes.

Vinyl snickered as Octavia picked up her darts and faced the board.

Octavia threw a dart, landing it in the 20 again.

“Tavi,” Vinyl said. “Thanks for sharing this with me.”

Octavia graced her with a real, full smile.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Vinyl spun in her chair as the music washed over her. It was everything she wanted. It was wild. Raw. It wove beats that made your heart pound, and drove the music forward at a terrifying pace. It was everything she’d hoped for.

And it was all wrong.

It lacked… cohesiveness. It had flow, but for some reason, it just didn’t… flow. Vinyl couldn’t figure it out. All those weeks of work… wasted. On the surface, everything seemed fine, but it lacked… something.

Vinyl sighed and looked at Tavi. She’d been quiet through the whole process. Too quiet. She’d made suggestions here and there, but more philosophical suggestions than anything concrete. Vinyl supposed this was her way of helping without taking over.

Vinyl sighed again and pulled off her headphones.

“Well?” she said to Octavia.

“It’s good. It’s very good,” she said. “You have talent, and a real flare for making music come alive.”

With a grunt, Vinyl saved her work, then did a ‘save as’ to keep the original file unchanged.

“It sucks,” she said.

Octavia raised an eyebrow.

“I think you’re being a bit harsh,” Octavia countered. “I said it was good, and I meant it.”

“Good,” Vinyl said, “but not great.”

“Well,” Octavia explained, “it’s really not my kind of music.”

Vinyl spun her chair again, throwing her arms out in frustration.

“That’s the problem!” she cried. “It’s supposed to be better than that. It’s supposed to bring you in to the music, not keep you out just because of the type.”

Vinyl growled and stopped her chair.

“Let’s go through those exercises we were doing before.”

Octavia blinked in surprise.

“Are… are you sure?”

“Hey,” Vinyl admonished, wielding an accusatory finger at Tavi. “Who’s music is this? It’s my music, and I get to do those stupid exercises if I want to. So stop arguing before I change my mind.”

“Well,” Octavia hesitated, “If you’re sure…”

Vinyl rolled her eyes and nodded.

“Then let’s go over the key changes.”

“Ugh,” Vinyl gasped. “I knew some of those key changes were a mistake!”

“No no no!” Octavia assured her. “I think they’re genius! I think it really helps the music build. I just think we should map out the keys, then start looking at how that might change your chord progressions.”

“UUUUUUUGH! WHY did I let you talk me into this?” Vinyl demanded.

“This was your idea, Vinyl” Octavia reminded her.

“I admit nothing!”

Octavia closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Why,” she muttered, “did I suggest this again?”

```````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````
Octavia collapsed onto her bed with a groan. Vinyl was exhausting. It wasn’t that she didn’t understand the theory, far from it. She seemed to have an innate comprehension of music theory that Octavia envied. No, it wasn’t a lack of skill or understanding. Vinyl had exceptionally high standards. The music never seemed to be good enough for her, and she mercilessly wrenched every last scrap of information regarding music and composition theory Octavia had ever learned out of her memory. Octavia had even gone to the library and done some research in an effort to recall long-forgotten bits of lectures or techniques buried in her brain.

It was draining. Even a little bit terrifying.

And it was working.

Octavia marveled as the two of them ripped bits of music apart, and put it back together again in new and unexpected ways, creating a masterful composition the likes of which Octavia had never seen. And Octavia was helping. She’d tried to sideline herself after her initial missteps, offering advice and some theory, but Vinyl had dragged her back in. Now it was more of a collaboration. Vinyl was clearly in the lead, but Octavia could point to bits of the piece that clearly felt like her. Certain jazz chords she was mostly sure Vinyl wouldn’t have thought of. Syncopation and triplets that Octavia always found interesting.

It was exhilarating and frightening all at once.

And very, very tiring.

Octavia’s musings were interrupted by a knock at her door.

“Come in?” she called curiously.

Vinyl opened the door, an odd expression on her face.

“Hey,” she said simply.

“Hey,” Octavia replied in kind.

“Soooo,” Vinyl started, “I know I’ve been a bit of a ball-buster lately…”

“Fortunately for me, my ovaries are safely contained inside,” Octavia retorted.

Vinyl snickered.

“Well, maybe,” Vinyl said, “but I wanted to share something with you.”

Octavia sat upright.

“Oh?”

Vinyl nodded toward the door.

“D’ya mind?”

Octavia stood, her curiosity piqued, and followed Vinyl out of her room and into Vinyl’s. Vinyl’s room looked like it belonged to a teenager, with clothes strewn everywhere, and energy drink cans decorating most flat surfaces.

Vinyl plopped herself on the floor in front of an impressively large-screened TV, and picked up device.

“You play?” she asked, holding a similar device out for Octavia.

“I used to,” Octavia replied, receiving what appeared to be a game controller for a newer console. “A long time ago.”

“Eh, this is co-op,” Vinyl told her. “I can carry you if it comes to that.”

Octavia rolled her eyes.

“Well, I’d hate to be a burden,” she said.

Vinyl smirked, but didn’t take her eyes from the screen.

“Yeah, well, I can handle it.”

Octavia shook her head with a rueful smile, and tried to figure out the strange contraption in her hands. After a few moments of experimentation, Octavia managed to move, aim, and even fire off a couple of shots.

“Niiiiice,” Vinyl said, as Octavia managed miss an oncoming attacker with several shots, then run in a panicked circle while aiming straight up in the air.

“Shut it,” Octavia snapped. “I usually played platformers.”

“I’m just teasing,” Vinyl assured her. “You’re actually not doing bad.”

“And now you’re patronizing me,” Octavia said. “I’m smart enough to know I’m doing absolutely wretched.”

“Well, a little,” Vinyl admitted.

Octavia blew a raspberry at her as she struggled with the foreign device in her hands.

After a few minutes, Octavia spoke again.

“So… what are we doing?” she asked.

“This is how Vinyl Scratch relaxes.”

“So Vinyl Scratch refers to herself in the third person now?”

“No,” Vinyl said. “It’s like… people know DJ P0N-3. They know how she looks, or they at least know her shades… they know she’s a talented DJ, and she loves to party, and blah blah blah. But it’s kinda lonely, you know? Here there are people that know and talk to Vinyl Scratch that don’t know how she relates to DJ P0N-3. And Vinyl Scratch can say things, and they’re not earth-shattering or terrible or a fucking travesty, because they’re not coming from DJ P0N-3.”

Vinyl paused to focus fire on a particularly difficult foe.

“Sometimes this is lonely too, ‘cause it’s all anonymous, and you never actually see real people. And the people you talk to… you never see in real life. But still. Sometimes it’s nice just to be Vinyl Scratch for a while, and not have to worry about DJ P0N-3.”

“Well,” Octavia said after a moment, “having seen DJ P0N-3, I can say she is, indeed, amazing.”

Octavia paused the game and looked at Vinyl.

“But I think it’s fair to say I rather like Vinyl Scratch as well.”

Vinyl turned and graced her with a soft smile.

“Good,” she said.

They unpaused the game and played for quite a while, laughing and shouting. And when they were done, Octavia realized she was still quite tired, and would assuredly sleep quite well, but didn’t feel as thoroughly drained as she had previously.

```````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````
Vinyl sat stone still as the music flowed through her. As the last few notes faded away, she opened her eyes.

Octavia looked at her expectantly.

“It’s perfect,” she said.

“May I listen?” Octavia asked.

Vinyl flipped a switch on her board and the music began to emanate from her standing units. She watched as Tavi closed her eyes and lost herself in the music. She really was beautiful, Vinyl realized. And even more, she was a musician. Regardless of their differences in taste, they felt the same way about music. They just got there different ways.

Vinyl followed Tavi’s lead, and closed her eyes, reveling in the music. It was amazing even when it wasn’t being pumped directly into her ears. There was flow to it that made it easy to listen to, but the beat under it captured you and drove you forward through the music.

Vinyl open her eyes, and looked at Tavi’s enraptured expression. Her heart lurched in her chest.

Then Tavi’s eyes opened. They locked eyes. As the last few notes finished, their gaze held. The moment drew out.

Tavi leaned forward and kissed Vinyl on the lips. Vinyl started for a moment, but relaxed and leaned into the kiss. Tavi’s lips were soft and warm, and as Vinyl’s heart fluttered, she realized that in all her recent hook-ups, she’d never felt so thrilled by a simple kiss.

Vinyl closed her eyes, content to lose herself in the moment.

—-

Octavia’s heart fluttered as the kiss continued. It had been so long since she’d had any sort of intimacy, even so little as a kiss, that she couldn’t help but savor the moment. Too long since she allowed herself that luxury. Since she’d let down her walls enough.

Yet here she was, kissing Vinyl.

Kissing Vinyl.

Kissing her housemate Vinyl.

Shit.

Octavia broke the kiss in a near panic.

“Oh my God,” she cried. “Ohmygodohmygodohmygod.”

Octavia turned and bolted for her room.

“Wha…?” Vinyl uttered in confusion.

“I’m sorry!” Octavia said. “Imsorryimsorryimsorry!”

Octavia reached her room and fled into it, shutting the door behind her. She leaned her back against it and sank to the floor.

“That was completely inappropriate of me,” she sobbed.

It didn’t take long before there was a knock on the door.

“Tavi?” Vinyl called, speaking more softly than Octavia had ever heard her.

“C-Can… . I- I can’t believe I’m saying this… but can we talk about it?”

Octavia immediately froze up, joints locking and mind going blank, though her heart was racing a million beats a minute.

“I… I guess not,” Vinyl said mournfully.

“WAIT!” Octavia managed to blurt out.

She struggled with herself, trying to undo her paralysis.

Come on, Octavia, she said to herself. Put on your big girl panties and fucking deal with it.

She muscled herself to her feet, powering through her panic-induced immobilization, and turned to face the door.

This is it, she thought, grasping the knob. Time to see how bad the damage is.

Vinyl’s face, as it appeared behind Octavia’s door was… not… lacking emotion, that much was obvious even with the blasted shades obscuring her eyes. That said, the specific emotions on display were muddled. Unclear. Octavia just hoped disgust wasn’t one of them.

All things being equal, Octavia opted for the truth.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I panicked. I should have stayed and talked like an adult. It’s just… I try to maintain a rule about not soiling the nest, so to speak, and I went and broke it because I was feeling lonely and emotional, and we were having a moment, and you’re so damned sexy-“

“You think I’m sexy?” Vinyl interrupted.

“Please,Vinyl,” Octavia replied. “You can’t possibly have doubts about your attractiveness, what with the parade of girls you’ve had through here…”

A realization struck as she spoke.

“...which petered out a month or so ago! Vinyl, have you been striking out?”

“What?” Vinyl gasped, offence clearly written on her face. “Fuck that! I can have any girl I... want… almost.”

Her words ended in a mumble.

“Then why haven’t you,” Octavia pressed.

Vinyl’s face turned bashful.

“I… just haven’t been in the mood.”

Octavia grimaced.

“And then I go and press myself on you. That must have been frightfully uncomfortable. I’m sorry, Vinyl.”

“No!” Vinyl exclaimed. “No! No, no, no. Look, it’s just…”

Vinyl took a deep breath.

“Look,” she started again, “I’m into you, ok? Like into you into you. Like, I thought it was obvious. All those hook-ups… they didn't mean anything, and it started to feel like I was just wasting my time. Like I was just trying to use them to forget I wanted you.”

Octavia’s face radiated shock.

“I… I knew you found me attractive,” Octavia said. “God knows why. You must have a thing for cellulite.”

Vinyl snorted.

“Please,” she said. “You have curves women would kill for. And everything is real, not plastic or manufactured. And I’ve banged enough girls who got plastic surgery for their sweet 16 to know. And you turn heads at the club. You had to notice. I mean, when we had dinner, you had Neon wrapped around your finger.”

Octavia looked uncomfortable.

“I… . That's an exaggeration,” she protested.

“Bullshit,” Vinyl spat. “You are something special, whether you wanna believe it or not.”

“And now we’ve gone from exaggeration to outright fantasy,” Octavia muttered ruefully.

Vinyl looked down bashfully.

“Well… you’re something special to me,” she mumbled. “And I gotta know… that kiss. Did you mean it? ‘Cause if you didn’t, tell me now so I can go cry myself into a bottle. But if you did, I’d really-“

Vinyl’s words were lost and forgotten as Octavia put her hands on either side of Vinyl’s face, and brought her lips to hers.

Vinyl sighed into the kiss, relishing the warmth of Octavia’s lips, the coolness of her hands, and the nearness of her body. She moaned needily as the parted.

“Hey,” Vinyl said, “you wanna maybe call it an early night?”

“Vinyl!” Octavia gasped. “It’s early afternoon!”

“Yeah,” Vinyl said with a smirk, “but I’ve got this dry spell I need to put behind me. And besides, there’s this gorgeous little number I’m dying to know more intimately,”

Octavia rolled her eyes, but couldn’t suppress her fond smile.

“You,” she said, “are incorrigible. But that’s part of your charm, isn’t it? Well, I can work with that. I just have one request.”

“Huh?”

Octavia reached up slowly, her hands moving smoothly, but carefully, as though afraid Vinyl was going to stop them or pull away at any moment. She did neither as Octavia gently grasped Vinyl’s shades and pulled them off her face.

The eyes behind the sunglasses were bright, clear, and vulnerable, and Octavia thought she had never seen anything so beautiful in her life.

“Ah,” Octavia said, “there you are. So good to finally meet you.”

She wrapped her arms around Vinyl’s neck, and touched their foreheads together.

“I think we’re going to get along just fine.”

For a change, Vinyl found herself lacking a retort. In fact, she lacked any words at all, and for the first time in memory, she was completely okay with that.

~~~~Fin~~~~