The DJ and The Cellist

Chapter Three

***

Vinyl woke up, a dull throbbing in her head reminding her about the consumed alcohol.

The DJ closed her eyes immediately upon. The performance had been spectacular. She had confessed... her love... for Octavia's music. Vinyl exhaled in relief. She hadn't confessed her actual feelings. That was good. She was not ready. She was not ready for a relationship. She was, most of all, not ready for rejection. Which would most certainly come immediately.

Then, they had gone off to a bar... Freddie went home... And then, they went to a pub... Then, Harpo and Beauty went home, and then... Then nothing. Vinyl rubbed her eyes. Or, rather, she would have, if her arm were not pinned to the bed by some otherworldly weight. Damn, I got it bad... VInyl sighed, her sleepy brain blaming it all on the hangover, and reached with the other hand for the sacred drawer that held the spazzy anti-hangover pills, her best friends on such mornings.

Her surpise was tremendous, to say the least, as she realised that the drawer wasn't there. She opened her eyes, only to see that she was in Octavia's room. In Octavia's bed. With Octavia's head in her armpit, the cellist snoring quietly with a tiny smile on her face. Vinyl rubbed her eyes. This was too surreal. Too perfect to be true. Too scary to be true. This was something she had craved so deeply, and yet something that she feared so much. This had to be a dream.

Octavia murmured something indistinct as she opened her eyes slowly. "Vinyl?"

This was not a dream. In her dreams, Octavia did not yell on top of her lungs, falling off the bed in a violent motion. Vinyl winced, rolling over to extend her hand towards the cellist. To her relief, Octavia took the offered hand and stood up. "Vinyl, we... Oh shit. Oh shit." Vinyl's mouth fell agape, her mind unable to put two and two and two together. Octavia was swearing. What next? Colourful talking horses?  

The cellist's dismay allowed the DJ to regain her cool. She had to be calm and collected, lest her own emotions slip away. Putting on a mask of chilly chillness in three, two, one... "Come on, Tavi, calm down. It's not the first time we've had drunken sex, after all."

"It is!" Octavia shrieked. Damn damn damn! I can't believe I- With Vinyl and- And we- And then I- Oh dammit it all to hell! And the worst thing, the cellist thought, was that she had thoroughly enjoyed it. Her first sexual experience was with a woman, and her best friend, no less, under the influence of copious amounts of alcohol. And I enjoyed it. Damn. Goddamn sexes and Vinyls and rums.

"Oh?" Vinyl rubbed her chin in a wide, artificial motion of sheer mockery. "Oh, yeah!" She slapped her forehead. "Got you mixed up with that other girl!"

"Other girl?" Octavia was radiating pure fury by now. Other girl? What the hell is she talking about, fucking other- wait. Wait wait wait. No! No! Bad Octavia! She can have sex with anyone she wants. Because... Because she's not my girlfriend.

"Oh, look who's jealous~" Vinyl cooed as she stood up, her headache still strong.

"I'm not jealous!" Octavia retorted with a blush. "It's just that we, you know?, had sex!"

Vinyl laughed light-heartedly, even though her heart was beating like a hammer. "Come on, Tavi, it's not like you even remember it." She shrugged. "I don't remember anything past that pub." But I so wish I did... "There might have never been-"

"Vinyl, I remember everything." Octavia sighed. "Every. Single. Thing. We got drunk, and, well, came home. And drank a little here. And had sex."

Vinyl gulped. "Tell me more," she said. "Please?" Her first sex with a girl she really loved - and she could not remember it? That was cruel. So cruel. She needed something to keep. Something related to Octavia. Something romantic. Memories that would never faed away even if Octavia decided to break their friendship now. That's probably true. Octavia was way too proper to live with a living reminder of something like... that. And she didn't even remember what 'that' was!

"What?" Octavia took a step back. "Why would you want that?" She scrunched her mouth. "Knowing you, you're probably asking that to brag to your friends. 'Look, Spits, I finally broke that little virgin cellist I told you so much about!'" Octavia was on the verge of crying. That's probably true. Vinyl had... seduced her. Seduced her, only to move on to the next girl. To 'that other girl', and some other girl after that. Octava could not remember Vinyl having a boyfriend. Or a girlfriend. She did remember her bragging about her sexual encounters, numerous, vivid, extravagant... She could not check, of course... "Why do you need that information, Vinyl? You'll probably forget about that by tonight and live as if it never happened!" Octavia was clearly crying now.

"Because I love you, you idiot!"

Octavia opened her mouth, trying to say something, but her mind supplied nothing but blank paper. She could not process what Vinyl had just said; only that it was deeply shocking and emotionally explosive. "I... I... I..."

Vinyl took a step towards the trembling cellist, holding out a hand weakly. "Octavia, I..." What have I done? The DJ wanted to hit herself. Stupid, stupid, stupid! But, maybe - just maybe - she was a little relieved she'd said that, finally, albeit involuntary? Or... voluntary?

Octavia backed down, unable to comprehend what was going on. Her heart was racing. Her mouth was dry. She was slowly beginning to understand that Vinyl, Vinyl Scratch, had just confessed her love to her, Octavia Philarmonica. And, as with all situations that were so damn confusing, and confused, Octavia did the only thing she could do in such circumstances.

She turned, and ran away.

***

"And then she said she loved me!"

Octavia finally took a deep breath, eyeing the trio of her colleagues as they say quietly in a tiny coffee shop not far from her - and Vinyl's - home. There were no customers on the fine morning, with the wind shivering up the quartet through the open door of the establishment. The counter was empty: the employee had gone off somewhere when he realised the four people were not going to order anything else but a coffee each.

"So, you just had to call us all and gather us here so urgently just because your flatmate has confessed her love for you?" Frederic raised a brow, his expression unreadable. "I am not amused."

Frederic's conclusion brought a frown to Bea's face. "Freddie, stop being so stuck-up! Octavia has found her love, and you-"

"Beauty, wait." Octavia raised her hand in a warning gesture. "Vinyl told me she loved me. That's it. I ran away. I did not say anything." The cellist slammed her fist against the table, still managing to make it a soft, gentle gesture. "I'm not sure I love her back." She frowned. "I'm not sure I have any feelings for her." Apart from her sexy naked body turning you on. mmm? Octavia winced, as if in pain. Shut up, brain. "I didn't even know she was into women!"

"But you knew, Octavia." Beauty placed her hand on the cellist's shoulder. "You told us about VInyl telling you about her sexual adventures with women..."

Octavia glared at the tuba player. "Beauty. Not. Helping."

The woman just huffed. "What kind of help do you need? My advice is: go home, say that you like her too - because I know you do - and try it out. If it works, good. If it doesn't..." Beatrice rubbed her chin. "Well, you can always brag you had sex with her that one time. Better have a quickie before asking, though, just in case..." The brunette grinned slyly.

"No, you cannot." Frederic placed the cup on the table calmly, his expression, as always, unreadable. "You will not date Vinyl Scratch, a famous DJ. You will not tell anyone, especially journalists, that you have had sex with her. You will keep up an impression of a fine woman of fine taste that you are."

Octavia found it hard to believe. "Frederic!" she exclaimed finally. "Since when are you controlling my private life?!"

The pianist reached for his jacket's pocket and took out four pieces of paper, of fine golden colour. "Since I managed to get us to perform at Canterlot's Finest. I don't need to tell you what kind of an event that is."

Harpo immediately grabbed one of the invitations. "Goddamn it! Freddie, you're awesome! It's... It's! It's gonna make us so fucking rich!"

"Harpo, language!" Bea winced, even though it was evident that she was positively surprised by thee news. "My... Canterlot's Finest... So many journalists... So many producers... So many conductors... We'll become famous!" she exclaimed finally.

"Exactly." Frederic nodded. "This is why all of us will withdraw from heavy drinking, smoking, and peculiar sexual affairs," he added pointedly. "Even you being a friend to a DJ damages us as an ensemble. If you want to stay in this quartet - which, as you have already guessed, will soon have gained national fame," the pianist addressed Octavia, who was still staring at him in shock and disbelief, "you will not date Vinyl or openly discuss what you two did."

Octavia worked her jaw. How can he?! How... Freddie, a manipulator? She knew him from kindergarten! She... He was her best friend! ...Until Vinyl came, but- He! "Well, then fuck you, Freddie, and fuck Canterlot's Finest." Octavia got up to her feet sharply. "And fuck your quartet, too." With that, she walked away quickly, tears welling in her eyes. She didn't know what she would do, but she knew one thing: she was walking home, and she and Vinyl would have a talk.

"Octavia, wait!" Casting a mild glare at the pianist that was actually tuned down in the wake of the tuba player's delight in Frederic's ability to have landed them such an event, Beatrice ran after her cellist friend.

"That was harsh, Freddie." Harpo took a sip of coffee, looking at his friend, who was gazing out of the window longingly, his eyes finally gaining some semblance of emotion. "You still love her, after all those years?"

"I do." Octavia was making her way through the street, followed by the short-legged Beatrice, disappearing from the pianist's sight. "And I always will."