The Last Minute

   ...

     Nobody spoke. Nobody moved.

     Many thousand breaths swirled, bottled, in many thousand chests. Many thousand pairs of eyes stared, dilated in the darkness, at the musical epicenter. which both reflected the light like a mirror and absorbed the attention like a vortex.

      The musician manipulated the music, tying it in knots with the flourishes of her bow, every hum of the instrument reverberating into ropes of finely-woven notes and tones that tied the audience itself to its seat, and its eyes to the source.

     The concert hall, from its gilded drapery to the ambient lighting, was a living entity in itself. It inhaled and exhaled with the music; the individual breaths of the audience members seemingly harmonized with the notes. Everything lived, everything was fiery and vital, save for the musician.

     Octavia was solid, perched beside her cello as though she were born there. Her eyes lay closed, lashes curling outward, her mane, combed meticulously again and again, cascaded down her back in an obsidian sheet, and her coat was more sleek than glass, as cleanly grey as a summer storm. Everything surrounding the cellist was brimming with potential energy and livelihood, yet, she was still.

     A statue, picturesquely beautiful, moving only at the leg as she drew her bow back and forth.

     Finally, after what may as well have been a century of perfectly-wrought notes, the end of the piece came. With one long, powerful note that veritably summed up the entire performance, Octavia let her bow hoof go slack, looking up just in time to see the curtain fall.

     And just in time to see that one smile in the crowd.

*~*~*

Click.

     Octavia snapped the weighted lid of her cello case closed, looking down at her instrument right before she did with the fondness of a mother to her foal.

     Her cello: the one thing that had never, ever forsaken or disappointed her. The cellist absently ran her hoof down the berth of the case, her ear twitching as a crash and loud argument assaulted her from the hall.

     "Hey, HEY!" A loud, cheerful but repugnant voice hollered. "Look, see it, I've got a backstage pa-Hey dude, don't touch me, you don't know me like that!"

     A white pony stumbled into the room behind the curtain, looking over her shoulder and brushing herself off with a hoof as though she had just struggled through spiked brambles rather than past a security guard.

     "Jeez, buddy, you really take your job seriously, someone's gotta give you a raise," The unicorn scoffed, her expression changing comically and dramatically to a gleaming smile as she caught sight of her friend. "Tavi!"

     Vinyl bounded forward and flung her arms around her friend's neck, who, startled, took a step back right into her precious case. "Gah, Vinyl, careful, I've had that cello since I was a filly!"

     Vinyl pulled back, stepping away sheepishly. "Sorry."

     Octavia grinned, firmly readjusting her instrument. "It's alright. But I'm very glad you came!"

     The white mare 'psssh'-ed, waving Octavia's sentiment away with a hoof. "Don't even mention it, Tavi, as if I was not gonna show."

    The grey mare hoisted her case onto her back with some difficulty and a soft grunt, pulling the strap tight with her jaw. She walked slowly toward the door, Vinyl lining up beside her. "These tickets weren't cheap, ya know."

     With a roll of her eyes, the musician gave her friend a playful nudge of annoyance. She teetered more than she made her friend.

     Vinyl eyed the giant black case, Octavia dwarfed beneath it like a tiny pack mule. "Uh, Tavi, lemme get that."

     The behemoth was suspended in a second, floating effortlessly in a cloud of magic from the unicorn. Octavia looked up appreciatively. "Thank you."

     The sound of their hoofsteps changed as the two ponies left the scarlet carpeting of the concert hall and entered the smooth, polished foyer. Towering pillars of marble held up a cathedral ceiling, the glassy floor and fancy steps down which they descended basking a soft golden glow from the lamps that lined the walls. The echo of their steps came back to them in the vast room, reminding them of just how alone they were.

     Octavia, professional musician and connoisseur of the finer things, felt perfectly at home in such grandeur. Vinyl, however, did not.

     "You wanna go somewhere else to talk?" She inquired, her eyes tracing the line of the staggeringly-high ceiling and intimidatingly-shiny floor. "This place gives me the willies."

     "You're kidding, Vinyl. You do realize that this is one of, if not the, most prestigious halls in Canterlot, and I would consider mys-" She bit her tongue, forcibly accepting the gap, no, gorge in taste between her and her DJ friend once more. "You know what, sure. Do you have a particular locale in mind?"

     Vinyl turned and backed into one of the high double doors, pushing it open with her flank, much to Octavia's horror. "Uh, well, there's a 24-hour diner 'round here, I used to go there with the boys after a set." She suggested, followed out by the cellist, who scrunched her nose.

Lovely. "Is it a far walk?"

      The night air was chill as it combed through Vinyl's already stray coat. "Nah. It's not like we have a ton to carry or anything."

     Octavia concurred. "Right, then, it's a good thing I don't have my-" One moment. Hadn't she just left a concert?

     The grey mare whirled around on point, staring through the glass doors at the solid black case, sitting a ways away on the polished stone floor. By the looks of the white DJ approaching from the side, neither of them had noticed putting it down to begin with.

     "-cello." Octavia could feel her brows sliding over eyes like they were melting down her face in exasperation.

     "I'll get it." Vinyl began to walk backward, obviously getting ready to nudge apart the finely-waxed doors with her hindquarters once more. Octavia wasn't having that again.

     "Allow me."

*~*~*

          The bell tinkled as two ponies entered from the far door at the end of the bar, magically toting a clunky black case. Immediately all eyes--all three or four pairs, that is--in the shabby little corner diner fell on them, and the smell of stale coffee and cigarettes wafted to Octavia's nose, likely from the lovely gruff-looking stallion in the corner booth.

     Immediately a harried but kindly-looking waitress with a frosted, curly blond mane sidled up to the two, leaning over the counter and grinning at Vinyl familiarly.

     "Well, well, Vinyl Scratch," She greeted, loudly smacking her gum through a thick Manehattanite accent, "Long time, no see."

     Vinyl grinned. "Yeah, sorry, Pop, been staying a bit overtime." She smirked at Octavia, who blushed furiously.

     The waitress didn't seem to catch on. "Too bad, I kinda miss seein' you and Flash hanging around here. Good customers." 'Pop' remarked, the last part directed with a nod to Octavia, who returned with a wary half smile and nod of her own. "Well, better late than never, yeah?"

     She followed Octavia and Vinyl to a booth, levitating a quill and tattered pad from her apron with another smack of gum. Vinyl plopped down onto the crimson pleather seat with an airy squish; Octavia, however, looked on rather apprehensively. Her cello was faster to be put down than she was.

     "What can I get you dolls?" The waitress asked, holding her quill aloft.

     Octavia looked around, lost, for the menu that wasn't there. A deploring look at Vinyl was all it took for the white unicorn to take the reigns. "You know, Pop, can we just get a couple of coffees?"

     'Pop' scribbled, blew one last bubble, and was off with a flick of her telephone-cable curled locks.

     Octavia turned back from over her shoulder, facing Vinyl again, crossing her hooves one over the other on the washed-out tabletops. The white mare read the expression she wore quickly.

     "Oh, that's Cherry Pop, she runs the place. She's pretty used to seeing me around here." Vinyl's tone made it clear she was fond of the bubbly, gum-popping waitress.

     "Ah." Octavia nodded, sliding her hooves off the table to make room for the greyish coffees that were promptly delivered to their table. Vinyl watched her pick up a spoon, stare at what were certainly dishwasher stains, and replace it back onto the table. "And the other one she mentioned, Flash, I think?"

     Vinyl looked up from the rim of her mug, wiping a speck of coffee from her muzzle. "Yep, coffee still sucks." She affirmed, before acknowledging the cellist's question. "Yeah, Flash."

     Octavia nodded pensively, though it was clear something else lingered on her mind. "Huh, you never mentioned him." Though her tone was idle, Vinyl was slowly beginning to gather her suspicions.

     And she quickly dismissed them. "Yeah, he's a good buddy. Works the light table. You should come meet him sometime, if you wanna drop by to watch one of my sets." She took a sip, and a gag, of her coffee.

     Octavia traced the mouth of her mug, then crinkled her nose in disgust as a droplet of coffee, unsurprisingly, got on her hoof. She pushed the mug away, electing instead to play with the sugar packet cosy. "So, you two never dated or anything?" Once again, she kept her voice unassumingly level.

     Vinyl gave a snort of laughter. "Flash? Nah, I've got you." She reached over the table and gave Octavia a playful prod, through her reception was a mite colder than the DJ expected.

     The cellist took a deep sigh. "About that," she began, meeting her friend's eyes from her own hooves. "What are we, Vinyl?"

     "I dunno," Vinyl looked troubled but hopeful as she offered the grey mare a small smile. "You're my girlfriend, I guess?"

      Girlfriend. The term itself sounded nice to Octavia, safe and established. She would have nothing better.

     But what of her family? Hadn't she been raised to marry a connected, handsome stallion? Wasn't she expected to live a life in he traditionalist manner, with a grand old family and a colonial home of the face of some country hill?

     Or her career, her career. Celestia knew it had taken a force of nature and countless sleepless nights of tireless practice to achieve the musical mastery she had now. Who, really, had time for a relationship, a girlfriend? Certainly not a career-faring mare.

     As much as it hurt her, it was a sacrifice the grey mare gad to be willing to make.

     "Actually, Vinyl," The words knocked on her lips, but Octavia found it increasingly difficult to open them. "I was thinking...I was thinking...Maybe we should take it slowly on the commitment front, so to speak."

     Vinyl looked as though she were slowly leaking air from a tiny puncture to the heart. "You want to...be friends?"

     At this, the cellist flushed once more. "Well, after that night that we shared, not friends per se, rather-"

     Vinyl nodded slowly. Although the smile was there, to Octavia, it seemed forced. "Friends with benefits."

     "Yeah." Octavia looked like she'd swallowed a hot iron pellet.

     The DJ's demeanor switched like a light, her usual cheery self returning unsettlingly quickly. "Hey, works for me. Any way I can have you is the way to go."

     She quickly dove into her coffee mug, hiding her muzzle in the sludgy liquid, and came out sputtering. "Yeah, nope, no, that's not a good idea."

     Octavia giggled. "Are you finished?"

     "Definitely. Cherry, can we get the check here?"

     As the white unicorn signed the slip, the grey mare leaned in, riding a wave of boldness likely brought about by the dingy atmosphere she was in. "So I suppose there's only one question left then."

     Vinyl slid the check to the side, a chill from her friend's hot breath running down her spine. "W-what?"

     Octavia lowered her eyelids, looking up from under sultry, sleepy lashes.

     "Your place or mine?"

*~*~*

          The two mares could not escape fast enough. Vinyl paid, practically tossing her money over the register, leaving a confused and quietly-muttering Cherry Pop in her wake on her flight from the diner.

     "My place is miles away," Vinyl groaned, "Let's go to yours."

     Octavia shrugged. "Of course, that's alright. It isn't far from here. In fact," She flexed her forehooves, breathing in a heaping lungful of the fresh, non-smoky night breeze. "It should be rather short and easy, especially without my-"

     Her eyes shot wide as though she'd been spiked by adrenaline.

     Wheeling around, the two ponies could just make out the outline of the heavy black object, still perched quaintly in the seat, large and clunky-looking.

     "-Damn it."