The DJ and The Cellist

Chapter Ten

***

"Hmm, that seems to be it."

Octavia took a critical glance at the sheet music before rolling over on the couch. "Vinyl, I think I have finished the cello part."

Vinyl yawned casually as she diverted her eyes from the computer screen. For quite a while already, she had been content. Her relationship with Octavia had been mild, stative, stable. It had been what she had expected it to be, from the very beginning. No talks of Frederic, except for the general ensemble matters. And the ensemble... Octavia had begun to see them as their competitors. Such bonding, be it good or ill, still brought pleasure to Vinyl's heart. Finally, for days upon days, she had experienced a perfect relationship with her cellist. Kind words. Restaurant dates. Fervent sexy times. Kisses on the floor. Roses and violets. Playful jokes and nudges. A perfect life.

"Great, Tavi. After all, it's less than a week till Canterlot's Finest. Our... opponents must be ready already." Ready already. Heh, that rhymes.

Yes. Opponents. Octavia nodded absent-mindedly, casting a glance at the screen. "Vinyl!" she shrieked, almost rolling off the couch. "Are you watching porn?!"

"Huh?" The DJ glanced at the screen and confirmed with a grin, "Yes. Why, yes, I am."

"That..." Octavia flushed red with embarrassment. "That's just distasteful!"

Vinyl wiggled her eyebrow. "Wanna watch it with me?" Hehe, Tavi blushing like a rose. A very pretty rose, she had to admit. Ready for plucking. Hehe. She wanted to share the joke with her cellist, but immediately decided against that: crude humour wasn't exactly something that her girlfriend admired. And, once more, like many times before, the warm word - girlfriend - cheered her up inside. The morning - or, rather, early afternoon - suddenly felt even more beautiful and sunny.

"Absolutely not!" Octavia huffed and crossed her arms, looking away. Are you sure, Octavia? The cellist exhaled and turned her head towards her DJ, a rather sheepish grin on her face. "Maybe?"

Vinyl laughed light-heartedly and, with a devious smile, jumped on the couch, springing from the chair gleefully. Octavia yelped as her DJ's weight pinned her to the sofa, assaulting her neck with small pecks of love. "One porn flick," Vinyl whispered in the cellist's ear hotly. "Coming right-"

"Right after you've made a basic beat for the cello part." Octavia pushed Vinyl away gently, in spite of herself. "And then, I'm all yours~" she cooed, planting a kiss on Vinyl's lips - a breezy one, only to intensify longing, not sate it.

"You're no fun," the DJ grumbled as she took her seat by the computer once more. "So?" she looked at the cellist expectantly. "Gimme the musics, babe."

Octavia took the sheet music and handed it to the DJ. However, to the cellist's surprise, Vinyl refused the paper with a swift shake of her head. "No, babe. I don't need sheet music. I need you to play it. I need to feel it." The disk-spinner smiled her disarming smile that prompted Octavia to get up, grunting, to get her cello. That's just an excuse, Octavia thought as she dragged the instrument with her. She just can't read sheet music, probably. Or, maybe... There was really some higher - spiritual? - side to it?

Octavia sat on the couch, the feeling of softness beaneath her strange, if not entirely unwelcoming. No, I'm not going to grab a stool or a chair. The cellist was tired enough already. Composing music was, strangely enough, an exhaustive experience, not only mentally, but physically too. "Vinyl? Are you ready?" Octavia lifted the bow.

The DJ checked the settings on the computer and nodded. "Born ready."

"Good, because I wrote this piece for you." Octavia took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

With a soft touch of the bow the strings sprung alive, gifting away the sound of a few perfect half-notes in stately succession. The introduction - the preface - consisted of half-notes mostly, with short faster passages. Just like their life before the relationship. This, here, was serenity. Octavia shut her eyes tighter as she dived into the next part. Fervent. Fast. With rough staccato passages. The bow pierced the strings, assaulted them with vigour, assassinated the fading tranquillity of sound. The first steps towards a relationship. Tears welled in Octavia's eyes. This, here, was dismay. Finally, the melody evolved into something greater, both musically and technically - the bow was gripping at two of the strings at an impossible angle, playing intervals, perfects fourths and fifths, easy and pleasant to the ear. Octavia smiled through the tears. The relationship. What is was meant to be. Happiness. With Vinyl. This, here, was love.

All this time, Vinyl watched with her mouth agape. Octavia had composed this for her. She could not believe it. Or, rather, she could, watching the performance - for an audience of one. The only audience Octavia needed. Yes. Now she got it. She could get it. She realised that. Maybe she was just sensitive to music? But how, how, tell me, could it not be love? Such music - such emotion! Such devotion! Tears and happiness, and happiness through tears! Notes dancing, waltzing, rushing, whirling, swishing to and fro, and past, and present, and God, this is what music must feel like! This, here, was music. This, here... was love.

Octavia released a breath she had been holding all this time, taking a teary-eyed look at her DJ, who sat still, not moving, her eyes staring, her mouth slightly open. The cellist smiled as she placed the bow next to her on the couch. "I love you, Vinyl," she whispered, almost mouthed - but loud enough for her DJ to hear.

Vinyl stood up, shaking, and sat next to her cellist. She did not lean in for a kiss, nor did she go for a tight embrace. Instead, she just lay her head on Octavia's shoulder in content, whispering, "Love you too, Octavia."

For a few calm, tranquil minutes the two musicians just sat together, enjoying each other's presence. Octavia yawned. The clock was ticking softly from the kitchen, quietly, approvingly. "So, Vinyl," Octavia said finally. "Did you manage to record this? Or... whatever you need to lay down the beat?"

Vinyl smiled sheepishly as she glanced on the computer screen. "Um, sorry, Tavi. I was just so mesmerised by how beautiful you are."

Octavia blushed slightly, but still straightened herself. "Well, that's very cute, Vinyl, but I could swear you hit Record before... um... getting mesmerised." The raven-haired woman's face turned a deeper shade of red. It's so... nice. So wonderful. Vinyl, being so... open. So romantic.

The DJ averted her eyes. "Um... Yeah. Thing is..." She stood up and took a few steps towards the doorway. "I may or may not have forgotten to connect your cello to the sound processor." Three... Two... One...

Octavia stood up, her eye twitching slightly as she took the bow, holding it firmly in her deadly grip.

"Vinyl," the cellist said sweetly as she neared the DJ.

Vinyl took a step back, standing in the doorway. "Y-yes, Tavi?"

Octavia smiled. "Run."