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The Last Minute

Wild

The last minute.

Those last sixty seconds. The last moment in the timeline. This moment.

It had come to mean a different thing to her, the last minute. The minute when silence would permeate the crowd, roll over them like the slow evening surf, until the last hurried whispers would too be washed into the fray. The moment when the last rows of lanterns lining the walls would flicker out, and the light cast on everything would change from honey to pitch. The moment when a hundred, a thousand minds in crimson cushioned seats, showing black in the wake of the lanterns, would quiet their buzzing, and so many eyes would swivel to a focal point, converging on the thick velvety curtain which still hung closed.

The last thirty seconds. The moment when she would sit on a stool, nothing around her for tens of feet, and island in a polished black sea. The moment when she may work quickly and quietly, making the last tightening on her bowstring--maybe it was necessary, maybe it was not. The moment when she may run her hoof down the barrel of her instrument, feeling the polished, familiar wood blend from the neck to the belly, strong and vital, to the strings, wound tight with craftsmanship and honed with mastery over the years. The last moment when she may close her eyes, as she couldn't see in the darkness anyway, and take one deep breath, just as a little reminder.

The last ten seconds. The moment when she may reach up, dreamlike, entranced as the seconds ticked by in heartbeats, and lightly touch the collar she wore which bore her signature and her livelihood.

Five. One last breath in.

Four. A breath out.

Three. Straightening her back, lifting her bowstring.

Two. The sound of rope sliding over rope and metal cranking over metal as the curtains parted.

One.

Octavia opened her eyes, the sudden yellow light on her stinging for only a moment before she blinked it away. She was blinded by the beam, seeing only the yellow glow around her, not a single feature in the black ocean before her; to anyone else, it may have seemed like an empty room. To Octavia, it was a lagoon of energy, hushed breath and rapt attention, pulsing through the walls like electricity before there was even any music.

She felt her eyes slide closed again.

Her bow began to move, drawing back and forth over the strings in flourishes and timeless elegance. Her hoof flew over the strings, switching between them with unparalleled finesse. She played not by sight, not by memory, but by feel.

The vibrations of the heavy strings ran through Octavia's bow, conducting the sound and feel into her body like lightning through a rod. She bent her head slightly, tilting it over the neck before rocking back, the music swaying her as if she were a tongue of flame, dancing and rearing back and forth in passion, illuminating the blackness.

The notes rang clear and strong, each one perfect and potent with energy. They poured out from the cello's berth, wrought from the hooves of the player, flowing silken over the crowd. No one looked away, even for a moment.

Gradually, the music slowed, before tapering and, with one final bout of vibrato, coming to and end. The room held its breath, and Octavia's had long since left her.

Cheers erupted from the crowd as one pony after the other sprung from his chair, whistling and clapping his hooves together. The sound pounded in Octavia's ears, still numb from her performance. She stood, bowing low and smiling, still holding her bow aloft. The curtains drew around her, and Octavia hardly noticed.

*~*~*

The crowd was beginning to thin as ponies filed out the side doors. Octavia could hear the babble of voices from backstage, catching snippets here and there of what they thought of her piece; positive, of course, lighting her up a little more before she remembered something.

The grey mare snapped down the lid of her cello case hastily, brushing past crew members and she took off, clopping down the side stairs from backstage to floor, and into the crowd. The river of ponies split around her, some walking past her to the door, some pausing to smile and congratulate Octavia on yet another great show, to which she replied absently as she craned her neck to look over the mass of heads.

Shaggy brown hair, orange hair in a knot, light blue-locked unicorn, oh, a tophat; Octavia flicked from pony to pony, scanning, hawklike, for the mane that would be a dead giveaway of the pony she was looking for in the shuffling crowd.

Pink, yellow, grey, red, cerise. Color after color of mane on pony after infinite pony, and not one had the trademark choppy-streaked mane after which she sought. Not even a measly little pair of reflective purple glasses.

Accepting defeat, Octavia retreated through the wave of ponies, stepping back up the little flight of stairs, hardly noticing how much more lackluster her hooffalls were now. The backstage flat, hung with ropes that did strange things and a half of a theater set and a light table, seemed deserted. Most of the crew had clocked out by now, leaving only the grey musician and the broom-pushing evening cleanup stallion.

"Evenin', Miss Octavia." He greeted, tipping an imaginary hat in the chipper way that he usually did. When the mare didn't reply, the stallion paused, holding his push broom upright as he looked over his hunched shoulder at her, bent over her heavy cello case.

"She's still a no-show, huh, Miss." He asked, voice quiet, sympathetic. The old housekeeper had worked far too long in this theater to not see what plagued the musician with each curtain call.

Octavia lifted her case, propping it up vertically with her back facing him before turning around fully, looking up from the ground to meet his gaze.

She blinked one time, another. Her eyes felt dewy, but Octavia stretched a smile as her voice sounded thick and laden.

"Maybe next time."

*~*~*

She was on fire.

Musky, dark, packed with ponies writhing against one another like a single organism as the walls themselves pulsed. The air smelt of cigarettes and perfume, alcohol and sweat. From the middle of the floor, ponies thumped in time with the music at an infinite decibel, crazed and entranced by the lights flashing from all directions; lasers and strobe, pink and white, yellow and green. Electricity frayed like cut wires between patrons, grinding and swaying with the beat as it all but tore them in two, low dips and lower bass.

From the stage, she could see everything--giggling and half-trashed mares behind hit on by a ripe group of colts at the bar, two mares sandwiching a stallion on the dance floor, his eyes wider than saucers--and everything could see her, if they wanted to. Vinyl was, after all, here to put on a show.

She tapped her screen with a hoof, then again, before swiveling over to her table, turning a dial and adjusting a few switches as the music changed, slowing down. The wobble bass stretched out slower, the kick and snare became more dominant, the music thudded as slowly and powerfully as a dragon's heartbeat.

Another flick of a switch, twist of a dial. The music softened further, the bass drifting away, as the melodic electronica tones took over. The lighting changed, slowly-pulsing strobe to fit the music, earning the colt at the light table a wink from the dj.

Vinyl braced herself at her place behind the table and her monitor. All the while, her glasses had begun to slide down her bridge as she worked, and this time, the glowstick-clad mare lifted a hoof to adjust them, pushing them completely up, into her streaked and wild mane. She blinked once, fire ruby eyes practically glowing in the scene.

Vinyl took a breath and advantage of the crowd. One tap on her monitor changed the pitch, and a pattern of switch-flipping and a little imagination did the rest.

The music sped, the beats become louder and higher in pitch. They rose, and rose, and rose as Vinyl manipulated them, squeezing the life out of the tones until they reached insane pitch and speed. The club frequenters knew the dj's routine well by now, locking their eyes on her; Vinyl could feel them watching her. She bent her head, looking down at her table in drama as she flicked a few final tabs, quieting the music's background noise, leaving only one pitch.

It climbed higher and higher from low, Vinyl slowly raising her hooves into the air with it. The pitch became infinitely high, the club hushed, and then, nothing.

Vinyl had them by a string. Her favorite part.

She smirked, lifting her head and flashing her ruby eyes. She thrust a hoof into the air, pulsing with the energy of the crowd and her other hoof came down with thunder on one button as the beat exploded into being, contested only by the outstanding cheer from her patrons. The speakers shook, the walls ached, and floor pounded as Vinyl had not dropped her signature bass, but rather slammed it down with the Mjolnir.

And it felt so damn good.

*~*~*

"Well, that's a wrap." The white mare announced to no one in particular as she cut her equipment for the night. The crowd had left, an odor of sex and energy still lingering in their wake. She adjusted her glasses on her head as a flick of magic spun up the hanging cables like vines from the side of her table.

"Hey, Scratch."

Vinyl lifted her head, looking up at the colt, the one who worked the light table, who approached her from the side of the stage. "Oh, hey Flash." She greeted, friendly as always as she tucked her devices into the sporty saddlebag lying under her table. "What's up?"

The colt reached the side of her table, his eyes trailing from the mess of cords to the curve of the slightly-perspiring and energy-drunk dj as she bent over. "Eh, nothin' really, great set tonight."

Vinyl flashed him a quick smile over her shoulder before returning to work, carelessly brushing her choppy electric mane. "Hey thanks, you too. Like the lights, nice work."

She heard him approached just a little closer. Vinyl paused, then dismissed it as she rolled up another cord. "So, uh, d'you wanna grab a drink? You can teach me how you do all the stuff you do." He asked, his voice sounding flattering yet slightly shaky through his resolve.

A bell went off in the mare's head. Vinyl grabbed the strap of her bag in her teeth, hoisting and dropping it onto the surface of her table and leaning on it. "Listen, Flash, you're a really cool-"

"You guys almost finished there? Listen, Vinyl, it's been a long night, I wanna go home, kiss the wife..." An older stallion with a gruff voice called from the door.

Vinyl stopped, calling over her shoulder to her manager. "Yeah, be right-Wait, shit, what time is it?" She snapped her head back to the young stallion before her, who looked momentarily dumbfounded.

"I-I dunno, one am?"

"One am...One am...Damn it!" Vinyl looked like she had just been struck by lightning as she flung her bag over her back, taking off for the stage steps. "She's gonna be so pissed!"

Flash followed her, his eyes still wide. "Wha-Vinyl, who?"

The mare didn't listen, or perhaps didn't hear. She cut across the floor, calling to her boss once and she nudged open the doors.

"I'll head in tomorrow, Mr. Beat, probably gonna be late!"

"You better not- Ah, who am I kidding."

Vinyl slipped through the doors, calling between the doors as they shut heavily and slowly. "Later, Flash!"

The mare escaped, swallowed up by the late night and the crisp air, leaving a dumbstruck and speechless colt in her wake. Flash stared out through the closed glass doors, his own reflection staring back at him, before giving a huff of laughter and shaking his head as he turned back to his own closing work. Next time, then.

*~*~*

Vinyl stopped in front of her door, breathing heavily from her hurried trek across the town. She fumbled with her bags, cursing under her breath as her keys slipped around the bottom, before finally catching them in her teeth, even if she had to jumble the freshly-rolled cords doing it.

Click. The door unlocked and and the mare flung herself inside, tossing her bags carelessly to the side, dropping her keys somewhere, anywhere. Her eyes met the glowing digital clock in the darkness.

1:26 am. Vinyl felt her heart tear from her chest, then get stomped on by the time staring back at her. She'd missed it again, Octavia's concert, by a whopping, unforgivable four and a half hours.

One hour later than the time before that, a half hour later than the one before that, and about the concert before that, Vinyl couldn't remember anymore.

How would she make it up this time? What would she tell Octavia? How was she going to forgive her, for the umpteenth time, when Vinyl told her again how she was working, when Octavia herself somehow found time to make it to her own sets from time to time?

In the darkness--she hadn't bothered to change living room lightbulb for far too long now--Vinyl hung her head. She had to do something for Octavia, anything.

The thought came out of nowhere. The white unicorn stumbled through the darkness, hit her knee on a side table ("motherfu-") and continued into the kitchen. She felt along the counters, stopping as she felt the cool, rounded glass of the spirit she had been saving for just the right occasion; powerful, potent, perfect.

She surrounded it in an aura of ice-blue magic as she lifted it, mentally kicking herself for not thinking of magical light assistance before her knee met the table.

Vinyl strode back through the door, wine toted behind her, hopes toted even higher, and shut it behind her with a slam and without a second thought.

*~*~*

Knock, knock. No sound behind the door.

Knockknockknockknock-

A click, then the door swung open, revealing a completely bewildered and slightly annoyed Octavia, adjusting a white silk robe around her waist. "Vinyl, what in Celestia's name- Do you have any idea what time it is?" Her high-class, melodic voice was music to Vinyl's ears.

"Yeah, I know, I just- I brought booze!" Vinyl waved the bottle, amber liquid sloshing like thin honey in the unopened bottle. She wore a wary smile, wordless hope that Octavia would drop the stern expression and hustle her in; "Alcohol! Well, why didn't you say so, please, do come in, forget about the concert, that's old hat, my good friend!"

No such dreams. Octavia stepped out over the threshold, shutting the door behind her as she drew close to the white mare, who shrunk a little back. "How can you even show here, Vinyl Scratch?" Her voice was high and hissed. "Middle of the night, you show up on my doorstep with a bottle of Celestia-knows-what and we're supposed to be merry again, I'm expected to forget about everything?"

Well, yes. "Please, Octavia, I'm really sorry, just gimme a chance to make it up to you." Vinyl pleaded, voice genuine.

Octavia remained unfazed, her expression firm as she backed up slightly and leaned against the door frame, hooves crossed. Vinyl could see the hurt in her eyes under her annoyed countenance; the same sadness that throbbed inside her just then.

"Please, Tavi." She tried once more, her voice gentler. "I'll do anything to speak with you, just for a little bit."

The grey mare didn't moved from her leaning post, her hooves still folded, silk robe the only thing moving, fluttering softly in the breeze. She looked from Vinyl's pleading face to the bottle she had, eyeing the liquid inside.

"That wouldn't happen to be brandy, would it?"

Relief flooded Vinyl, who couldn't bite back a smile as she lifted the bottle to show the label, fancy and a far jump from rum and coke, her usual spirit of the evening. "You bet. I know it's your favorite."

"Fine, come in." Though her words remained hard, Vinyl could hear the usual good-natured Octavia she knew beginning to seep through. She followed her host in, shutting the door behind her.

"Not so loud!" Octavia reprimanded, crossing her lovely ornate living room to the kitchen. Vinyl blinked.

"What's the big deal? You don't have someone else here, do you?" She joked, before falling serious and raising an eyebrow. "Do you?"

She heard Octavia's scoff from the kitchen. "No, goddesses, no, you know I'm not one for one-evening encounters." She emerged, entering the living room carrying a tray of two wide-bellied brandy glasses with surprising jaw strength. She set them down of the coffee table, before approaching Vinyl, who was still standing. "I do, however, have neighbors."

"Neighbors, so what? They know me by now, I come 'round often enough."

Octavia came closer, eye level with Vinyl, who rooted into the ground. "Yes, I know, Vinyl, but at this hour? I don't want anyone getting..." She was so close, so close. So effortlessly seductive. "...the wrong idea."

Vinyl brain packed its briefcase, said goodbye to the receptionist, and clocked out for the day. What's going on here?

Her hooves felt lighter all of a sudden, and it took Vinyl a moment to realize Octavia had simply come to get the liquor from her. Oh. Duh.

Vinyl laughed, seeing the opportunity to tease and seizing it from her best friend. "Oh, Octavia, what, you don't want ponies thinking we're..." She moseyed from her spot, hopping over the back of the couch and plopping onto the cushion, before turning back and wiggling her brows. "...gaaaay?"

Octavia trotted daintily around the couch, sitting next to the smirking mare and picking a glass from the table. "Come off it, Vinyl, you know what I think of that."

She popped the cork of the bottle and poured herself a half glass of the rich liquid. Vinyl kept her smirk glued on as she herself grabbed a glass. "What, that one filly back in high school didn't count, 'that how it is? Damn, what was her name..."

Octavia buried her nose in her glass, cheeks crimson. "No. Besides, it was just a kiss and you know that very well." She mumbled into her drink. "And her name was Lyra."

"Oh-ho, Lyyyra..." Vinyl repeated in a jokingly seductive voice, pouring herself a significantly larger glass of brandy. "Tell me you didn't like it, Tavi."

Octavia rested her glass in her lap, tracing the mouth with a hoof in nostalgia. "W-well, no, it wasn't that... She had a girlfriend, Vinyl, you know that as well!"

Vinyl took a swig, the liquid spreading a pleasant warmth through her chest. "Yeah, Bonnie or Bon-Bon or some shit, I dunno..."

Octavia lifted her glass back to her lips, sipping a ladylike sip. Vinyl could just barely hear her mutter under her breath, or perhaps she had imagined it. "Bon-Bon, just a little tart..."

Vinyl took another hefty gulp. "So, regrets? Aside from the 'having a girlfriend' thing, I mean."

Octavia remained sent, going back to trace the rim of her glass, staring into the liquid. She looked up to her best friend, shrugging so slightly. Vinyl smiled wide and gave a little laugh, lifting her glass and tapping it jovially against Octavia's with a clink, pulling a tiny smile from the grey mare.

"Hey, wash it back."

*~*~*

"Oh come on, Vinyl! You promised you'd never mention that again!" Octavia gave a hoot of laughter and a friendly punch to the white mare's leg, who wheezed with laughter, slowing to breathe and to continue her story between snorts.

"-And then...and then...pffchh d'you remember the look on his face? Oh goddesses, priceless, priceless!" She looked toward the heavens, clenching her hooves before breaking into a fresh fit of laughter. Octavia giggled, sipping once and grunting through the brandy as she sat away her glass.

"Mmmh! I had to do it, he was a real wanker!" She wiped her mouth on the side of her hoof, laughing once. "Do you know he refused to leave our flat for hours in the morning?"

"Yeah, I agree, total douche, but still," Vinyl chided, "What you told him was just..." She put on a matter-of-fact expression, raising the pitch of her voice and donning an accent to mimic her friend's legendary breakup line. "Did I ever tell you of my religion? Well, now that we're practically married, do you reckon Edmund is a good name for a son?"

Octavia smiled and shook her head. "Worked, did it not?"

"Oh yeah. Never saw a colt move so fast in my life."

They joined together in a chorus of laughter, lighting up the room with the crackling log fire and the smell of alcohol heavy in the air. Vinyl calmed and sighed, taking another sip of her innumerable glass of spirit. "Know something, Tavi?"

Octavia fell over on the couch, resting her head in Vinyl's lap. "What's that, Vinyl?"

"College as your roomate were the best years of my life."

Octavia alerted, lazily propping herself up on her elbows. "Really? But I was so impatient with you half the time."

Vinyl swished her glass around absently, watching the liquid roll. "Yeah, well, they were, even if you were always so much classier and prettier and neater than me."

"Oh come on Vinyl, don't say that, you were always the pretty one!" Octavia said, her wide purple eyes looking up reproachfully. "Besides, I was always too high-strung, took everything too seriously, and then it happened; university ended in a moment, and I was thrust into reality before I knew it."

The unicorn mare felt a flood of mixed emotions seep into her heart; affection from Octavia's compliment, sympathy and sadness at the tone with which she considered her life. She adjusted her position, slowly stroking the grey mare's hair, her head having fallen back into her lap.

"But look at you Tavi, you're playing huge concert halls, world-renowned and respected! Success, if I ever saw it." She stared into her own hooves, watching them move. "You're out there, while I'm still stuck in trashy red-light nightclubs."

"What, Vinyl, I thought you loved what you did?"

The unicorn shook her head quickly. "No, don't get me wrong, I love to get a crowd riled up, I just can't help but wonder what might've happened if I was... more like you." The words came from a place the mare had never touched before, perhaps never even knew existed.

Octavia looked up, solemn, studying, searching her best friend's fiery eyes. "Vinyl, you don't want to be like me."

The grey mare swallowed her words all of a sudden, clamping her mouth shut as a flood of color crept up her cheeks. She turned her head, looking for something--whatever, it didn't matter--to distract herself and her best friend before she began asking questions. She grabbed Vinyl's music player from the side table, holding it above her face as she rolled vack onto her back, still nestled in the unicorn's lap.

"Let's see what you've got on here, Vinyl, may I?"

Vinyl grinned and nodded, but an answer wasm't required for Octavia, who had already begun to flip through her endless playlist.

"Rock music, electronic music, something else--what's this?" She shuffled with the earbuds, as Vinyl peeked over her shoulder. The unicorn smiled before realization struck her and her eyes shot wide.

"Wait, Tavi, don't, it's on full-"

Octavia shot up into the air as through someone had lit a brick of dynamite under her flank. "AUUUGHHH!" She screamed, yanking the cords from her ears and tossing the player from her like it was cursed. It bounced of the back off the couch and landed on the cushion; Vinyl snapped it up and snorted in laughter, switching off the sound that was still blaring, muffled, from the earbuds.

"-Volume."

Octavia settled warily back on the couch, eyes still wide, ear still slightly twitching. "Vinyl-" She breathed. Vinyl thought for a moment she was about to get belted. "What in the sweet hell did I just hear?"

Vinyl couldn't bite back a chuckle. "Come on, you've been to some of my sets before!"

Octavia shook her head slowly. "Yes, but that wasn't like your sets, that was--that was--screeching practically!" She rubbed her ears, mumbling, "Goddesses, that could be weaponized!"

"Oh yeah, say hello to my bass gun!" Vinyl mimed a gun, holding it with two hooves and cocking the back dramatically.

The cellist scoffed. "Basscannon, rather."

She leaned back into her friend's lap, prying the player back from her hooves. As Octavia began to scroll through it again, Vinyl had the solid feeling she wouldn't be plugging the earbuds back in her ears.

She was, however, mistaken. "What's this one, Vinyl?" Octavia asked, waving the screen before her friend for only a second, though long enough for the unicorn to be backhanded by fear as she realized just exactly what her friend had stumbled upon.

"Nothing." She said quickly, "Gimme." Vinyl swiped at the player, missing grandly as Octavia swerved from her attack, making to sit up.

"Seriously Vinyl, let me listen!" Octavia fumbled with the earbuds, struggling to plug them back in, the player slipping between her hooves a bar of soap as she doged Vinyl's wrestle attacks.

"Octavia, you better give me my think right now!" Vinyl flapped her hooves fruitlessly, her head pushed back by Octavia as the cellist hit the play music. "Gimme!"

Too late. Music came through the earbuds, loud enough for the both of them to hear. Octavia froze, her hoof still holding back her friend, not realizing that Vinyl too had stopped fighting, eyes wide in horror.

Cello notes flowed into the room, sweet and calm and perfect, and all too familiar to Octavia, who looked back at her friend, cradling the olayer in both hooves in her lap. "This is my music, Vinyl."

Vinyl tried to wipe her face off in her hooves, white stained sanguine with a flush. "I like it, alright? Sorry."

She dared to peek between her hooves, letting them fall when she saw the smile on Octavia's face; the one thing she hadn't expected. "Vinyl, I'm honestly touched that you like my music, I never actually thought you did." She dropped her eyes back to her hooves, ears folding back a little. "I mean, you never came to any of my concerts."

Her tone, the quaver in her voice, pierced Vinyl's heart like a dagger, hurting much more than she ever thought it could. "I love your music, Tavi. I really wanted to come to your concerts, I just..." She didn't know what to say. "...I was always working." The words tasted sour leaving her mouth, dripping with guilt.

"Oh, well, that's alright, I understand." Octavia said quietly, leaning her head back onto Vinyl's lap. Silence bubbled between them for a moment, and the unicorn decided not to press the subject any further.

Octavia had the same notion. "The concerts, when you've done so many, I guess they can just get..." She exhaled, staring off into the distance for a moment, watching something Vinyl could not see. "...Tiring."

"Tavi, you, of all ponies, have got to love what you do, I mean, you're amazing." She referred to more than just her cello, but Octavia couldn't possibly know.

Octavia turned to her side, head still in the white mare's lap, and stared into the fireplace, the orange tongues of flame casting light onto her face. "I do, I just want to know what it's like, just once."

She straightened, meeting Vinyl at eye level, looking directly into her, searching for an answer, a glimmer of hope and comfort that the unicorn had always and would always provide to her. Vinyl's mind clouded further as she felt Octavia's sweet breath tickle her nose, and saw every dewy drop clinging to her eyelashes. "To know what what's like?" Vinyl almost whispered, hardly feeling her lips move.

"To let go."

The space between them disappeared as Octavia pressed her lips against Vinyl's in heat. The air around them crackled with the fire as the white mare froze for a moment before returning the kiss with a gasp and a whip of intensity, pushing Octavia back slightly. Her thoughts faded as the moment crystallized and suspended itself in time, and everything, all she was, became that mare in front of her, kissing her.

Octavia sighed into Vinyl's mouth, regaining control of the situation and pushing her slowly back over, until the cellist hovered above the dj, who lay against the arm of the wine-colored suede sofa. Vinyl was lost in her taste; brandy, but with that exclusive, and tantalizing, flavor of wildberries.

She couldn't help herself; the unicorn snaked her hooves up Octavia's narrow, smooth sides and to her upper back and under her forelegs, drawing her even closer in an embrace. She caressed her coat and brushed aside the long, sleek black hair, which fell like a curtain around the two of them.

It was unreal to the both of them, dreamlike, slow motion. Neither wanted the kiss to ever end.

Suddenly, though, Vinyl could feel Octavia start to lift from her lips. The cellist rested her forehead against the mare below her, looking into her eyes with her own half-closed ones, breathing heavily and in gasps. "Vinyl..."

Vinyl felt a shudder of arousal ripple through her spine and to her core. Her name sounded unimaginably sexy as it dripped from Octavia's panting lips.

"Teach me how to be wild."

Vinyl's mind, crazed with lust, love, and passion, didn't think twice before obliging. She moaned aloud, reconnecting their lips in fire, eliciting a squeak from the grey mare and feeling her leg over which she was being straddled dampen.

With a hefty push, Vinyl flipped the both of them, falling back so that it was now her who hovered over Octavia, whose own hooves locked like a chain around the white mare's neck. They remained connected at the lips, and neither knew how they were still breathing.

Vinyl finally pulled away, even if just for a gasp of air, and drank in the mare underneath her. Octavia drew her hooves to her chest, her eyes half-lidded, head tilting slightly upward, long hair splayed and hanging over the side of the couch. It stopped Vinyl's heart.

She reared back down, planting butterfly kisses down the cellist's jawline, earning and savoring a whimper for each one, stopping to nip at her neck. Octavia drew her best friend each closer, rumpling the wild electric hair just above her.

"Vinyl..." She moaned again, writhing gently under the unicorn. Vinyl paused her ministrations, feeling the telltale dampness brush against her leg and the squirming, rippling muscles below her. She looked up under her lashes at the face of the cellist, her own piercing red eyes half-lidded and crazed with lust; Vinyl knew exactly what Octavia needed. The dampness rolling down her own leg proved the same.

Octavia bucked her hips up, taking advantage of her friend's momentary distraction. A jolt of pleasure ripped into the both of them, white burying her face with a gasp into grey. Another gyration yielded another chorus of sighs, and another, and another.

Octavia nibbled on Vinyl's neck as she continued to move, rippling and twisting her hips against the hips of the white unicorn, lost in pleasure with her lifelong best friend. Her bangs were pasted to her face with perspiration, and the cellist could feel the tickle of Vinyl's breath against her nose as she panted.

They moved together like a wave, one matching the other in pushes, tightening spreading between both of their abdomens like fire. Octavia sunk her teeth harder into Vinyl's shoulder, her gasps fading into sighs fading into moans, raising higher and higher in pitch as her eyes clamped together. Vinyl breathed in her best friend's scent, smothered in the locks of black, eyes also welded shut, groaning quietly; she couldn't bite it back.

Stars exploded before their eyes, nearly simultaneously. Octavia squealed as she fell over the edge and over again, sinking her teeth involuntarily into Vinyl's shoulder, pain slicing through the unicorn's nerves, amplifying her own orgasm as she moaned a loud, raspy moan into Octavia's neck, pleasure crackling through the both as intensely as the crackling flame in the hearth.

Neither moved. The air hung heavy with orange, glowing light, musky alcohol, and the sounds of two mares slowly catching their breath.

Vinyl slumped off of Octavia, rolling to her side, cradled low between the sofa cushions. Octavia wriggled over just a little, curling up under Vinyl's foreleg like a cat in a pool of sun, her eyes drifting and her mind clouding and her body completely, totally at peace.

Octavia spoke first, the slightest bubble of fear swelling inside her chest. "Does this change anything between us?"

Vinyl looked down, her red eyes glowing and warm like smoldering embers, over a gentle smile, just for Octavia. She brushed aside a damp strand of silky black mane.

"Nothing."

*~*~*

Birds.

Octavia could hear them, just over the wind and the occasional leaf tapping against her window. Octavia could hear that too.

Her eyes slid open on their own accord, blinking slowly as leaded weights. Sunlight flickered over her purple eyes, glimmering across them as they shone a heliotrope color. The sun felt warm over Octavia's coat, but her memories felt hot as they tore through her mind's eye.

She rolled, the cool side of the pillow feeling refreshing against her head, leaving Octavia to only wonder how she had crawled up to her bed. The pounding in her head provided a solid reminder of the drunken stupor in which she probably came in, and she was thankful just for the sweet memories she was able to hang on to.

Her hoof reached out, expecting to meet a rumpled white coat, falling instead through the air and landing on an empty pillow.

Octavia stared to the edge of her bed, hurt leaking from the void before her to the pit of her stomach, manifesting in the swelling lump in her throat. Her eyes sank closed, a tear welling and wetting the cellist's lashes as it landed with a tiny pat on her pillowcase.

Another no-show.

...

"Good morning!" A voice called from the doorway, positive and chipper. Impossible. "Tavi, you awake?"

Octavia sat up instantly in her bed, her face lighting up like a filly on her birthday. Her hooves flew to her mane, combing it down by instinct, smoothing in vain over the tangled black. "Vinyl! You're here! You stayed!"

Vinyl strode over, two cups brimming with something steaming floating magically behind her, beaming. "'Course, Tavi, where else would I go?"

"Nowhere." Octavia's grin rivaled Vinyl's, any negative feeling she may have woken up with dissolving and catching with the breeze. "What do you have there?" She beckoned to the hovering mugs.

Vinyl followed her gaze. "Oh, I made some coffee." She shrugged, a sheepish smile across her face. "At least, I think it's coffee. I also think I might have broken your kitchen."

She handed Octavia a mug, taking a place in the cushy comforter next to her. The cellist chuckled, sniffing her drink.

"That's alright, I can always get another." She took a wary sip, exploding into coughing as she received a heavy pounding on the back from Vinyl's hoof. "That's not coffee, Vinyl."

"Can't say I didn't warn you."

Octavia sat her mug down on the bedstand, slipping a newspaper under it, purely from habit. An inquiry flashed through her mind. "Why did you get up so early? I always considered you a rather late sleeper."

"I, uh, needed to do something." Vinyl placed her own mug of grainy mystery liquid next to Octavia's.

The answer was less than satisfactory to the curious grey mare. "At..." One glance to the bed clock later, "...7 am?"

Vinyl made to stand, walking to the edge of the room, withdrawing something that Octavia couldn't quite make out from her bags. "I was going to surprise you with this, you know." A slip of paper fluttered onto the bed.

Octavia tilted her head to read it, her eyes growing wide, innocent, surprised. "A ticket?"

Vinyl nodded, picking it up, placing the slip of paper in Octavia's lap. "To your concert. Got it in advance."

She met the grey mare's eyes, searching them, more genuine than Octavia could ever have dreamed existed.

"I'm never going to miss one again."

Octavia flung her forelegs around Vinyl's neck, burying her snout into the messy blue mane, affection for her best friend choking her. "Thank you."

The two stayed in embrace, until Octavia moved against Vinyl, speaking quietly. "Vinyl?"

"Mmh?"

"Just one thing."

Vinyl's brows furrowed as she pulled away, worry pounding inside her, replaced with confusion as she met Octavia's challenging smile and one raised eyebrow. "What's that?"

"I'm going to make the coffee from now on."

The Things We Agree To
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The Last Minute

The Things We Agree To

...

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."

Reasons for Attraction
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The Last Minute

Reasons for Attraction

"-here on Canterlot Real FM, coming at you live on this beautiful evening with all the hits, all day-"

An energetic male voice blared from the small desk radio amidst the clutter jungle that was the DJ's nightstand, quickly followed by the soulful jazz intro of a song Vinyl had heard one too many times. A groan rumbled in her throat as a hoof thrusted from the blanket heap, pawing around for the snooze button, knocking a glass over as it did.

Vinyl gave an incoherent grumble again as she rolled over. Rubbing at her eyes with a yawn like a tired, discontent foal, she kicked off her comforter, throwing it onto the ever-growing linen heap at the foot of her bed.

She sat up, watching the last sunset light slide off her mattress and threaten to leave her messy room in darkness if she didn't get her flank up right now. Other ponies may not have had a problem springing out of bed in the early evening hours, a long day sleep leaving them refreshed, but for Vinyl, waking up sucked, even at 6 pm.

She oozed out of bed, rumpling her chronically messy hair with a hoof as she trudged to the bathroom like the undead. The water of the running sink was a good slap of reality.

Mornings, or, evenings in the Scratch household were always the same: old grind: slide out of bed, stumble over plastic cups and dead glowsticks, then hastily get ready and leave for the nightclub. Today, however, felt different to Vinyl; while she was still as groggy as always, she felt lighter, a feeling she could not reckon with. It was a stupid kind of happy.

A gray, mare-shaped, cello-playing lover kind of happy.

A quick shower, teeth-brushing, and a good long stare at the hairbrush before deciding to go without yet again later, the white mare was snatching her glasses from a side table as she left her flat. She tightened her black equipment bag over her back as her keys rattled around in the lock.

Vinyl turned and took a deep lungful of the night air. It was cold and crisp, the gust of a refrigerator opening filling her lungs. She stepped carefully down the steps from her building's doorway, slippery with rain, before jumping happily onto the damp gray paving, trotting along merrily. Ponies passed her, some looking dreary, bundled in trenchcoats or woollen scarves, but Vinyl had a nod and a grin for each of them as she continued, the cold not bothering her at all.

The streets of Canterlot, or her district at least, were buzzing with life, particularly after the sun set. Chatter in foreign languages floated to her ears from little groceries dotting the street corners, mixed with the splash of puddles of passersby stepping in them, and muffled tunes coming from the chunky headphones of an artsy stallion as he turned into a graffiti-painted archway that read to have a slam-poetry open mic free-for-all just that night only.

Dodging a group of laughing, rowdy mares, Vinyl stepped down the muddy stairs into the subway. She stood by herself on the cold yet humid platform, pulling her bag strap tight. As the train rolled in, Vinyl brushed her bangs aside, tucked her glasses in her bag, and hopped aboard. Even under gaze of the creepy stallion with the oversized coat in the corner seat--lovingly nicknamed Crazy-Eye Carl by Vinyl and Flash once upon a drunk subway ride-- the white mare felt unusually chipper.

She hardly registered when the train screeched to a stop, but cleared her head quickly and left the station.

The mechanical whoosh of a metro rail passing over Vinyl as she walked under a stone bridge over the street went almost unnoticed, the smell of freshly-baked croissants tempting her into a seedy but homey little diner on the corner.

"Hey, Mr. M," Vinyl greeted, leaning over the diner counter and letting her back hang behind her. "One croissant and a coffee please. To go."

A gruff stallion rounded the corner, flicking a cigarette butt into the garbage. "Vinyl, a coffee and a croissant to go, yeah? Like every day?" He chuckled and tucked the pastry into a white paper bag, before turning to pour her coffee.

"What can I do, your coffee's the second best around." Vinyl complimented, letting her eyes wander around the rack small items by the register. "Y'know what, lemme get a pack of Mareboro with that."

The stallion turned, placing down the coffee cup and walking to the cigarette rack. "What, only second best?"

Vinyl caught the smokes he slid across the counter to her, grinning. "Hey, normally it'd be third, but you get the benefit of the doubt." She dropped several bits on the counter, lifting her goods with a flick of magic. The mare backed into the diner door, pushing it open to a gust of cold air. "Have a good morning, Mr. M,"

"It's 7:30!"

She laughed aloud and continued onto the chilly, brightly-lit street. "Whatever!"

*~*~*

"Damn, it's freezing, did someone open th-" a young brown stallion called from under his table, taking a break from fiddling with cords for a moment to turn around. "Oh, hey Vinyl." He greeted, seemingly forgetting about the cold in an instant.

The mare entered the empty nightclub and let out a heavy exhale, the door shutting behind her. "Thank Celestia, it's warm in here. I could practically feel my horn retracting out there." She laughed, crossing the floor toward the stage.

"Yeah, it's wild. Winters don't usually get this cold in the city." He concurred, busying himself with the cables again. "You setting up?"

The DJ shivered once and dropped her equipment bag against a speaker. "Yeah." She dove into her own cable salad, detangling a spectacular knot, but wearing a grin she couldn't derive heads or tails of. "It's gonna be a good night, I can tell."

"Yeah?" The young stallion chuckled, his voice slightly muffled from under the table. "Why d-AAUghh Luna damn it!" He exclaimed, frustrated with something Vinyl could not see.

"Uh, Flash, d'you want some help?"

Flash blushed furiously red. Their boss, Mr. Beat, sure, he could help--Flash could withstand the short-fused city stallion calling him a 'nitwit' once or twice--but Vinyl, of all ponies, no. "N-nah, it's okay."

She was already behind him. Celestia, the mare was fast. And quiet too. "Don't be dumb, scootch." She demanded, wiggling her way under the table next to him. He moved, flustered and thankful for the dim lighting.

Flash cleared his throat. "It's uh, a frayed wire."

Vinyl squinted. "Oh, pfft, that's nothing." A tongue of magic was all it took to seal the split back together. "You should see some of the shit I have to deal with sometimes." She scooted backwards and out from under the table, doubly messing her mane. The DJ flashed a cocky grin. "Helps to be a unicorn."

Flash gave a short laugh, playful yet derisive, as he stood, marching to the other side of his table. "Yeah, whatever. You know what they say about earth ponies though," he leaned over with an equally cocky and challenging look. "We're way better at sex."

It was Vinyl's turn to laugh. "I doubt that."

"Alright ladies," Mr. Beat's drill-sergeant-esque voice caused them both to jump. Neither of them had heard him enter. "Doors open at 9. And I better have my lights and music done flirting by then."

"You got it boss." The white mare moved to her own setup, her subwoofers humming as she started up her equipment. Vinyl, her hooves flying over switches and dials, leaned over her table, one brow cocked to Flash in a mischievous grin. "You can't know that anyway, Flash." She whispered. She wasn't going to take the chance of Mr. Beat overhearing again.

The red-maned stallion leaned back, unraveling a cable in his hooves. "Whaddaya mean?"

"You've never been in bed with me"

Another crimson flush.

*~*~*

By the time the salty, alcohol-y smell that was left lingering in the club began to thin, and the last trashed, bass-high pony stumbled out the door, the night was no longer young. It was middle-aged, at best.

"2:37." Vinyl read from the little display at the corner of her table. "Decent. Sweet job on the lights, Flash." She slid her glasses off the bridge of her snout, feeling hot and muggy as her bangs stuck to her forehead.

Flash grunted in skeptical laughter. "Ha, yeah right, I stuffed those ponies so full of strobe they'll be shitting rave for a week." Vinyl gave an amused snort, and the stallion continued. "Nailed the music though."

The DJ held the power button on her main speaker down, satisfied with the click and whir of the huge machine shutting down. She lifted her head, grinning as though a truer statement had never been said. "Ya think?"

Flash looked at her seriously. "Oh yeah," he began, before breaking into the dopey smile of a smug pony. "They always like soothing crib music like yours at Soundline."

Had she not been entangled in cords yet again, the DJ would have been over there faster than one of her pitch frequencies to whap him one. "Crib music? If that's crib music, I want to meet that foal." She laughed, before pausing. "And what's Soundslime or whatever?"

"Soundline," he corrected, "It's a music competition. You team up, and teams fight each other with original sounds for total audio dominance. Big thing, actually."

It sounded great to Vinyl, a tantalizing challenge. The champion title practically sung a siren's song to her. "Hey, that sounds pretty cool. Do you have to sign up or something?"

Flash nodded, stepping off the stage to a small, add-loaded bulletin board in the corner. "Yeah, we've been carrying their fliers forever, what kind of rock are you living under, Vinyl?" He tore a colorful sheet from the board, trotting back up to the stage with the less-than-lovely taste of paper in his mouth.

Taking it from him, the white mare laid it on her table to read, wondering to herself how she missed something with such bold print anyway. "A big one, apparently."

Her eyes rolled the intrusive writing as she read, hearing a zipper zip as Flash returned to packing up. "So it's a team thing, yeah?"

"Mmhmmm..." He paused, looking up. Where was she going with this? In the 'ask-Flash-to-be-your-partner' direction, hopefully.

Vinyl folded the page and stuffed it into her bag, turning around with a giant, excited beam on her face. She flung the packed back over her back, uncaring of the cables that hung over the edges like vines. "Aw man, Flash, this is perfect!"

He smiled, his hopes flying somewhere in the mesosphere. "Yeah!"

"We've been looking for something fun for both of us to do, I'm a musician, she's a musician..."

"Yea-what?"

The stallion looked as though he'd just been unceremoniously backhanded, but Vinyl hardly noticed. Glee and foalish excitement bubbled in her. It was a stupid kind of happy.

A gray, mare-shaped, cello-playing future Soundline Queen of Music partner kind of happy.

Opposites
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The Last Minute

Opposites

"No.”

“Why?”

“It sounds stupid.”

Vinyl scanned Octavia's face, looking for a sign of humor, but the cellist was like the side of a cliff. "Don't be so close-minded, Tavi, I'm a musician, you're a musician, it works!"

Octavia looked like she was going to pat Vinyl on her silly little head. "No, Vinyl, you see, that may be true, but our genres don't exactly... coincide, do they?"

"Opposites attract."

Octavia squinted to the sun, rumpling her mane with a hoof. "Yes, but I just don't know. It seems like a bad idea. You don't think anypony might get the wrong idea?"

It stung Vinyl to think of what she meant. "What, that we're a couple or something?" She said it jokingly, like it didn't matter, and it hurt.

Octavia shrugged gently. "I suppose I'm not ready for that, or at least I'm not ready for the town to know. We discussed this, Vinyl."

It was true; they had. "Friends" was a fine word, "friends with benefits" was, to her, the ugliest word in the dictionary.

"We'd only be performing together, though." Vinyl reasoned.

Octavia shrugged again. "It seems like a thing that couples would do. I can't be the only one who thinks that, either."

Vinyl sighed and looked to her hooves. She lifted the flier one last time, grinning a tiny grin. "But... it's cool..."

The cellist chuckled, but didn't reply. Vinyl dropped the topic and didn't mention it again, and while it didn't mean too much to her and she could brush it under her mental rug, she'd be lying if she said it didn't burn just a little.

Octavia inhaled. She leaned back, propping herself up on two hooves.

The high noon sunlight played over her face, its almost liquid warmth seeping through her closed eyelids, and all she could see was the comfortable orange glow. A light, serene breeze whispered sweet messages into her ear, and the grass around her played a quiet tune. With every breath, the fresh scent of dew-kissed greenery and solid, vital earth filled her lungs and spirit, and the gray mare welcomed her calm environment, a crystal-clear bay of sanity in a tumultuous ocean of stress. Her own little bubble of perfection.

"Damn, my flank is itchy!"

That, Octavia noted, was the sound of a bubble bursting.

Without turning her head, she opened one eye only a sliver, her focus swiveling to her peripherals, although she wasn't sure she wanted to see.

Her manner-forsaken companion skitched around on the grass beside her, adjusting and readjusting her position, scooting like a puppy with fleas, or a filly with an ant hotel in her trousers. Octavia took this as a chance to ask the question she didn't really want the answer to.

"Vinyl, what, on Celestia's fine ball of earth, are you doing, pray tell?"

The white mare scrunched her face up, tucking her tail beneath her as makeshift padding. "I'm sitting on a freakin' bed of nettles, that's what. They're like," she examined a spot on her hoof; a blank spot, as far as Octavia could see. "Embedded in my flesh."

The cellist sighed, her head flopping down in exasperation. "Fine... let's leave then."

At that, Vinyl's eyes shot wide, She raised her hooves, and, for the umpteenth time, adjusted her position. "No, no way, I picked the last place we went. This is good. The park is beautiful. Let's stay."

"Really?" Octavia's cocked eyebrow grazed the heavens.

"Yeah, really." She broke into a small smile; forced, but the gesture it stood for was ever the more sincere because of it. "I'm enjoying myself.”

She straightened her back and gave a grimacing grin, and the cellist smiled. A hundred shades of uncouth and brash, the complete antipode to herself, that was her “girlfriend.” Vinyl was weird and silly and would probably prove to be a disaster at a social event if Octavia ever fell hard enough off her rocker to take her to one, but despite the electric mane she belligerently refused to comb and a childish devil-may-care attitude, she adored her to bits.

Maybe it even made Octavia adore her more.

She turned her head back forward and slide her eyes closed again, but bliss didn’t swoop back down over her as expected. Her pitch black mane absorbed the sunlight and burned on her head, and for a moment the cellist made to push off her hair like an annoying hat. “Ehhh...” Octavia groaned as she lowered her hoof from her head, pausing to wipe a bead of sweat from her brow and feeling a little foolish. “It’s nice out here, but does it feel a little hot to you, Vinyl?”

The DJ sat stock-still. “Hot, no, I’m enjoying myself.” She answered resolutely like a stubborn filly, though the trail of sweat down the side of her head was plain as the sweltering midday sun that caused it.

“Well,” Octavia chuckled, shielding her eyes with one hoof and wrinkling her snout as she looked up to the sky, as if trying to read the sun like a clock. “You won’t have to “enjoy” it much longer, I daresay I’ve got a concert in an hour.”

A look reminiscent of a dolphin getting thrown a fish washed over Vinyl’s face, and she eagerly brushed back her mane. “Thank god!” She exclaimed, before seeing Octavia’s skeptically amused expression and dropping her glee like a hot potato, replacing it instead with a somewhat deject frown. “I mean, aww.”

Octavia laughed frostily. “Jig’s up, Vinyl. Don’t worry, I know that this isn’t quite your scene.” She scooted her classic leather pouch close to her side and swiftly unbuttoned it, peeking inside before turning back to talk to Vinyl as she blindly felt around inside it. “You know what they say though.”

Vinyl shrugged blotted at her brow again, sorely tempted to put on her sunglasses. No, she mentally berated herself, those are for sets. “Eat your vegetables?”

Octavia looked up at Vinyl as she withdrew her signature bow tie from her bag and pushed her hair back to fumble with the clasp. “No, not--what? No, opposites attract.”

Vinyl smiled, but she wasn’t sure how real it was. The phrase didn’t seem quite as true anymore.

The bow tie just would not clasp; the cellist glumly remembered that she’d skimped on lunch, her hooves were trembling just a little, but enough to render her incapable of fastening the stupid tie. “Vinyl, put that magic to work, would you?”

A flash of light blue magic was all it took to save the cellist a headache; the clip snapped into place instantly. Vinyl ran a hoof through Octavia’s hair to help comb it back into place down her back, and absently remarked, “You know, Tavi, if you’d let me use my magic to help you get everything ready more often, you wouldn’t need this whole hour.”

Octavia put on a half-smile and cocked a brow, turning just enough to see Vinyl’s expression from her peripheral vision. “What are you suggesting, Scratch?”

The DJ waggled her eyebrows.

Octavia laughed a turned back. Vinyl looked the tiniest bit disappointed, but resumed her combing. “Besides, no one should need a whole hour to get ready.”

“That’s what you think.”

Vinyl opened her mouth to fire some clever retort, but was left gaping and blank-minded as Octavia finished up, tousling her mane one last time and leaving it to hang au naturale: long, black as night, perfectly framing her face, and indescribably beautiful. What would surely have been biting and witty got caught in her throat as Vinyl’s sentence tapered out pathetically. “Well, that’s...what I think.”

The cellist blinked and shrugged it off. “I should go.” She stood and slung her bag over her back. The worn old thing stretched in protest, and Vinyl gave it to anyone to guess why she still kept it. “I still have to pick up my cello.”

“Way to be prepared, Tavi.”

Octavia looked at her derisively. “Well, I wasn’t going to lug it to the park, was I?”

"Pffft, I dunno your life." Octavia thumped her with a hoof, a little hard for a playful hit. "Owwwkay, I deserved that."

The grey mare nodded seriously before breaking into a grin and making to leave. "I'll see you later?"

Vinyl sighed almost imperceptibly. "Count on it."

.o.O.o.

"Canceled?" The word sort of fell from her lips like a breath, sliding out and disappating in the air before she realised her tongue formed it. The dazed veil that hung over her mind lifted as the fog was replaced by incredulity, then anger. She tapped on the locked glass doors that kept her out of the fancy foyer of the seemingly empty concert hall. "How can it possibly be canceled?"

The janitor stood his push broom straight up and leaned on it, shrugging. "Wish I knew, doll. Heh, sumthing or other with the riggin's er the lights, that's what I overhear, dunno, can't trust errthing these old ears overhear." He chewed the toothpick in his mouth and shrugged again, to the huge dismay of the cellist on the other side of the glass pane doors.

Seeing her face fall, the janitor continued, blubbering out whatever he knew. "They says, at least that's what I overhear, they says all yer money'll be refunded fer the tickets you bought, so don'tchu worry that pretty little head 'bout it now."

Octavia flattened herself against the cold glass door, rattling it slightly. "I'm not a guest, I'm the lead celliiiist!" She wailed into the glass, feeling as though she were going to slide down it like an egg in a pan.

The janitor shook his head, chewing on his pick and straightening his flat-top hat by the brim. "That's a real shame, doll." He picked up his broom against and continued pushing it along the already impeccably clean floor.

Octavia groaned in defeat, silently asking her deities why in the world the only personnel around just had to be the one that knew the least. Octavia felt she'd have better luck squeezing a drop of blood from a turnip than information from him.

Suddenly, right on cue, the click of the ticket-booth door sounded as the ticketmaster stepped in and swung it shut behind him. He stooped to grab something from the floor, then turned around to leave again.

Octavia was missing her chance. "Hey! Hey, hey wait!" She dropped back on all four hooves and clumsily ran to the window, skidding to a stop in front of it and tapping on the glass frantically. The stallion turned around, surprised and a little annoyed. "Can I help you, miss?"

"Yes, thank you, yes you can. You see, I was supposed to play here tonight, you see that's me there--" She tapped on the flier bearing her name that was stuck to the glass. "--and apparently it's been canceled, though I've received no word of it, and there's no one around and your janitor doesn't know what the hay he's talking about!" She said her piece breathlessly, the part of her brain that reminded her of how mad she sounded drowned out by her frustration.

"Yes miss, that's right, tonight's production has been canceled."

"Well, I know that, don't I, as evidenced by the fact that instead of being in there, playing, I'm out here talking to you!" She punctuated the last few words with heavy emphasis and a jab at the glass for each.

The ticketmaster looked unfazed, even bored. Octavia resisted the urge to punch through the glass and throttle him. He smacked his lips before he spoke. "We'll refund you for your patience miss, and we hope that you enjoy your 20% discount upon your next visit."

He slid a coupon through the slot at the bottom of the glass. Octavia stared.

After a moment, she took the coupon and smiled slowly. "Thank you, I will. And please accept my commentary as a paying customer." As she said it, Octavia stared unblinkingly into the ticket stallion's eyes, smiling as she slowly ripped the coupon down the middle with more relish than she had ever used in her life. "You have a wonderful evening."

She turned, grabbed her cello case, and left in a stride.

.o.O.o.

Walking around felt weird.

Octavia wasn’t used to not having a plan. She, in her own eyes and the eyes of everyone who knew her, had always been a rigidly-prepared kind of mare. Not having a fallback net was so uncharacteristic of her.

And yet, all that propensity to plan in her still yielded to the same result; she was alone, at night, walking around with nothing to do.

A breeze swept by, and Octavia shivered and instinctively made to grab at her cello case, to steady it. Her hooves groped empty air, and she was harshly reminded of how naked she felt without it with her. But, desperate unplanned times called for desperate unplanned measures, and she had to stuff her case in a large bush a while back, hoping it wouldn’t mind. Wandering was one thing; wandering and lugging an enormous cello around was entirely another.

She had considered going home to drop off her case and leave again, but it didn’t seem worth the trouble to go all the way there and back. Then again, she’d also thought about simply staying home, propping her hooves up and watching telly, or maybe getting cozy with a bottle of wine and her electric blanket, but the thought scared her. Octavia didn’t like spending more time than she needed to at home by herself. It felt lonely.

And so, her cello was in a shrub, and she was walking aimlessly.

As she went, Octavia mulled over her options. Her mind wandered as she did.

How could they just up and cancel her show? For all that was holy, it was her show, did no one respect her anymore? Maybe it wasn't her person, maybe it was her music.

Octavia nodded resolutely and with furrowed brows to no one as the thought crossed her mind. Yes, that was it; no one respected music anymore. Tastes that once wrapped around beautiful, real melodies like the ones that flowed from her cello were drifting elsewhere, to loud, obtrusive computerized beats and screeches that sounded like an army of robots going through an electric can opener.

Like Vinyl's music.

Even in her head, Octavia still winced a little bit to say it. She didn't really share Vinyl's tastes. It wasn't that she didn't respect it, probably, but it really, really wasn't her refined cup of tea.

And to mix the two together? Her classical, and Vinyl's digital constipation. Ha! Oil and water. Octavia shook her head and snickered to herself.

The cellist continued walking, unaware of her passing surroundings as she thought. Of course, she could do the competition with Vinyl because that would be the right thing, the supportive thing to do. Vinyl and her did have a relationship, however classified, after all, and certainly in some paragraph or subsection that entailed that they should stand by each other in whatever they do.

Octavia sighed. A knot of unwanted morality and feeling tightened in her stomach, and she felt a pool of guilt well up in her chest. She should have accepted to be Vinyl's partner, but was it worth ousting themselves to the town as a couple? A drop of fear mixed into her guilt, creating an uncomfortable emotional cocktail. Octavia felt dizzy.

It wasn't like a social commander like Vinyl wouldn't be able to find another partner, but she shouldn't have to. Even though the right thing to do was plain as day in the cellist's mind, she knew herself well enough to say that she was not ready for whatever sort of commitment partnering up with Vinyl might thrust her into.

"Ugghh, why does this have to be so difficult?" Octavia demanded aloud, slightly stomping her front hooves.

The previously unnoticed stallion on the other side of the cobblestone road paused, and Octavia glanced over, her furious blush almost invisible under the dim street lanterns.

The stallion blinked. Octavia blinked. It felt awkward.

"Everything alright?" He called.

No. She forced a smile, hoping he could see. "Yes, t-thank you."

She could barely make out his smile and nod. He continued on, across the road and in the opposite direction, and so did she.

The cellist made it three steps. "No." She turned around, no longer bothering to conceal her sadness. "No, I'm really not alright. Everything is not alright."

Quite unexpectedly to her, a voice answered back from down the road, light and playful but concerned. "You didn't seem like you were."

Octavia huffed a sad chuckle. "Well, you're right." She said quietly. She laughed aloud a little. "I'm a mess."

There came no reply. Octavia sure did it now, acting like a madmare, wandering the streets at night and lamenting her problems to polite strangers. Octavia three hours ago wouldn't even spare a disapproving look to Octavia now.

She was about to drift on, when again, a voice answered her. "Would you like some company?"

It was her turn to be silent. Then, she did something crazy. "Yes, yes I would."

"Be right there. Don't go away."

Octavia stood where she was. Before she even had time to question her decision, she heard the sound of hooves over paving coming to her. The lighting washed out his color, and it was far too dim to make out a cutie mark, but from what she could tell, he was quite handsome.

He smiled. Her heart fluttered. It felt strange, and guilty.

"Umm, hello, anyone in there?" He chuckled, looking at her face like he was trying to look through a peephole. Octavia realised she'd been staring, and her cheeks grew hot. Thank Celestia for dim streetlights.

"Oh, y-yes, sorry, I was..." Oh yes, he was good-looking. "...distracted."

The stallion laughed breathily and looked up and all around him, at the deserted street and sleeping buildings. "Hah, well, this has been sufficiently awkward, doubt we can go much farther down that road, so what the hell." He looked back to Octavia, who grinned slightly. "Why's everything not alright with you, gorgeous?"

Octavia would look disdainfully down at gender-abusing pet names at any other moment, but for a strange reason she didn't even begin to try to understand, it seemed alright now. Charming, even.

She sighed and smiled softly, shrugging and looking down to the ground. "It's complicated." It was the most generic, department store answer she had ever given.

"Sounds like it's going to take some time." The stallion commented. "Walk and talk? Which way're you going--?"

"Octavia," she filled in. "And all downhill, I guess."

He raised his brows and grinned, and it took the cellist a moment to get what he was asking.

"You meant literally. Oh, uh, this way." She turned her head down the road, her eyes widening in the horror of her faux-pas the moment he couldn't see her expression. She started walking, and he followed next to her.

"So, what's on your mind, Octavia?" The stallion asked, before adding. "Beautiful name, by the way."

Oh yes, he was definitely putting the moves on her; of this, she was sure. She didn't really mind.

"It's a problem with, er," Even though in the recesses of her mind, Octavia knew this stallion was a complete stranger with no personal investment in the matter and it was unlikely she'd ever see him again, it was difficult to say what was on her mind. She hesitated between every word. "-someone."

The stallion was quiet for a moment, and the grey mare turned to look, expecting to see a look of exasperation on his face; she knew she sounded like quite the high maintenance mare. Surprisingly, he took a deep lungful of air and nodded, like he understood.

"When someone's on your mind..." Octavia laughed quietly and shook her head. "...y-you know?" She added awkwardly; colloquial was not a good color on her.

The handsome stallion chuckled in response. "Yeah." His mouth moved soundlessly as he wavered between closing his mouth or continuing, and Octavia could see that he needed a bit more prying.

"You look the same as I did a few minutes ago," Octavia commented playfully, but gently, "Girl problems?"

The stallion nodded. "Yeah, there's a girl," he smiled to himself and raised his brows, reveling in the image of a mare only he knew. "And she's not so much a problem as she is a real handful."

Oh, my friend, I know what you mean. "How long have the two of you been together, if I may ask?"

Like a veil unrolled and dropped over a window, the brief look of glee in his eyes was shrouded and taken over by a look of melancholy. "We're not. There's something... in between us. Keeping us apart."

Oh, Octavia knew, she most certainly did. Whether it was her problem with Vinyl, or whatever problem this stallion had with this mare, they were both paddling up the same river.

"It just feels like--" The sentence froze in his throat, and Octavia wasn't sure if he was deliberating his words or trying to swallow them back down. "It just feels like I can't get past something, and that something is keeping me from just asking her out and getting it over with."

Octavia nodded halfway. Her problem was different, sure, but it didn't stop her from knowing what the lamenting stallion meant. He continued, just as vague as before. "It's like we're too different. Like I'm not the one she wants. It's like I'm not--"

"--right for her." Octavia finished, the breathless words laden with a sadness and truth that pounded right through her ribcage to her heart. The stallion fell quiet, and Octavia turned to look at him, something sparking in the back of her eyes. Resolve.

"I know. I really know what you mean, I swear I do." She spoke, her voice trembling almost undetectably. Words poured out of her like a raging river, pooling in her chest. "When someone is so different from you, and it seems that never, ever in this universe should the two of you be together, it seems almost ludicrous, a-and nothing in your sanity can explain how it even ended up this way--" she grew more breathless with every passing sentence, her revelation coming from a place inside her the cellist had forgotten even existed. "And you hate those things they do, those stupid, silly things, but somehow... but somehow you never want to let them go."

She gasped at the end of her sentence, like she'd just finished a puzzle, or better yet, solved the riddle of the universe. The fire in her eyes kindled to a flame, and then to an inferno as Octavia lifted her head, meeting the stallion's gaze. "Listen, don't worry about what's separating the two of you. Care only about the things that bring you together, that make you want to be around her." She was hardly speaking to him anymore, but rather to herself. "And do whatever it takes to get her, and keep her."

The stallion at first looked surprised at the previously-somber mare's outpouring, but his expression changed when the words took nesting in his mind. Something that mirrored Octavia's vigor sparked inside him, and he felt every nerve in his body come alive with a fervor. "You're right. I will. I'll do it!"

Octavia laughed, the reservation of her old self going out the window as she threw her hooves around him, pulling him in for an embrace as if they were two old friends reuniting after years apart instead of two strangers meeting by chance on an empty, dark street. He joined in her laughter, a chorus of emphatic glee carrying down the way for anyone to hear as the two adult ponies lit up like fillies.

The stallion drew back and let out a huge exhale, smiling. "Thank you, Octavia." He began, "I didn't know how much I needed this."

She returned the sentiment. "Me either. I just-- thank you." As soon as she said it, the stallion turned and took off in a stride down the cobblestoned road, the sound of his hooves on stone only matched by Octavia calling after him, "Where are you going?"

"I have someone to find!" He echoed back, and she understood, and grinned to herself.

With one last look around her through completely different eyes, Octavia turned, walking back slowly down in the direction from which she came. The blackness didn't seem quite so lonely anymore, her walking not so aimless.

She breathed. The night was still young. The stars were still bright, the moon was still up, her cello was somewhere safe, and she too had someone to find, because for some reason, somehow, opposites attract.

.o.O.o.

Vinyl ducked under her table, fidgeting with the salad of cables in the back that her muscles hated to reach. She grunted as she took a lunge and miraculously grabbed the biggest one in her teeth, pulling it to her. "Come here." She growled between clamped jaws.

As she began to wiggle back out, a tap on the closed nightclub door startled her, causing her to jump and, to her delight, hit her head on the underside of the table. As she grumbled, the tap came again. And again. And again, growing faster and more insistent. Insistently annoying.

Vinyl abandoned her table, pushing off her sunglasses and tossing them aside. She strode to the door, mentally assuring the pony aside that they would get a wallop when she got there. "I'm coming, damn it, relax!"

The tapping didn't cease until she unlocked and swung open the heavy door, coming eye-to-eye with a familiar face, who looked at her breathless and with a furious flush.

"Flash? What--I thought this was your night off?"

He caught his breath and grinned huge, wider than she had ever seen. "Vinyl," he began, voice a bit hoarse. "Let me in. I've got to tell you something."