The DJ and The Cellist

Chapter Seven

***

"Vinyl, we need to have a talk."

The DJ winced as she walked into the kitchen, casting a glance at the cellist, who was sitting at the small rectangular table, her fingers dancing on the surface nervously, her coffee cold and untouched. Vinyl poured herself a mug of warm tea and sat down obediently, opposite her cellist. "I'm all ears." Damn. Here it comes. 'We should see other people.' She's breaking up with me. I fucking knew it. But then why did she fear the upcoming words so much? Why was her mind clinging to Octavia, like the last straw of hope in the endless ocean?

"Vinyl, I heard you... praying last night." Octavia immediately winced at her wording, and the way Vinyl frowned in the wake of the sudden revelation. "I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to overhear! But..." the cellist closed her eyes for a moment, and then looked straight into Vinyl's pools of  deep crimson. "I'm worried about you, Vinyl. Because you're worrying yourself about me."

Vinyl opened her mouth to reply, but Octavia hushed her, bringing a finger to her lips. "Vinyl, let's get this straight, once and for all. I am not in love with Frederic. I am in love with you. It's very simple. Frederic is my childhood friend, and I love him as a friend. Whatever he does. Nothing more, nothing less." The cellist smiled. "And I don't need guidance from the divine. I need you."

Vinyl suppressed an urge to wince again. It was all happening too fast. Or was it supposed to be happening so fast - in a relationship? She couldn't know. But... They had been dating for a couple of days, and Octavia was already claiming to be in love with her. Aren't I claiming the same, though? Then again, they had known each other for years... "Tell me a little about Frederic." As Octavia opened her mouth in a silent inquiry, Vinyl supplied, "Just because. I just want to know a little about him. So that I can be less jealous." The DJ smirked. "You are my lady, after all. I'm protective."

Octavia smiled a little relieved smile. So far, Vinyl was acting all right. Vinyl believed her. And this was good. And obvious. Because the very notion of her, Octavia, dating Frederic... Ludicrous. "Well, let's see." Octavia cleared her throat, taking a sip of cold, tasteless coffee. "Our families were friends even before we were born. The Horoshevski family are immigrants from Stalliongrad, and the Philarmonicos are immigrants from Scoltcilia. Naturally, they emerged on the market, and public relations; and, well, after a few years of conducting business, my father and Frederic's father made friends. Then I was born - and he, too. We share a birthday, by the way, Freddie and I." Octavia smiled sadly, making Vinyl wonder if there really wasn't any romantic background to her girlfriend's story with Frederic. "We have been friends since the day we were born, naturally." The cellist chuckled. "Our mansions were near, and we used to run about the garden. We'd get tired and sleep under the cherry trees, the whole afternoon." Octavia closed her eyes, memories flooding her mind, washing her over.

"We went to the same school. Freddie... We competed for marks, you know." The cellist chuckled. "I always tried to get better grades. Always failed, though. He was a perfectionist, both at school and college. He... He almost saved me once. Back in uni - we attended different universities: he chose Hayward, and I fell short at the entrance exams - back in uni, he walked me home, like a gentleman..." Octavia gulped. "There were four thugs, they... They assaulted us." The woman shut her eyes even tighter, trying to break the unpleasant images of vivid reminiscing. "Of course, Freddie's not a fighter... But he gave me time to run away. They messed him up really bad. The doctors said he'd never play the piano again." For a moment, Octavia fell silent, but then smiled genuinely. "But he did. He recovered and played better than he used to." Finally, the cellist looked into the DJs eyes, pain vanishing from her gaze. "You must understand, Vinyl. Frederic has always been and will always be my best friend. Whatever he does. He may seem emotionally... lacking, but, in fact, he is very emotional, way more than you or me. The Eastern blood. You just get used to it. Like you get used to the Philarmonico blood of the South."

Vinyl nodded. All that talk of blood and heritage... Was she the only one who didn't care? But... God, she does love him. She really does. Vinyl could see it in the cellist's eyes. This painful, elusive realisation. She doesn't know yet, but she loves him. But... Vinyl sighed internally. She also loves me. Seems to love me. What to do?

"I'll set up the stuff for our practice," Vinyl said, getting up and leaving the room silently.

Octavia looked at her DJ's back, drifting away, leaving. I shouldn't have told her all that... Now she must be jealous... The cellist took a sip of her coffee. Was it so hard to understand that there can be friendship between a man and a woman? Mutual friendship, with no claims for something greater? Isn't it? Vinyl's quiet curses could be heard as she set up the wires.

The tea remained on the table, gradually getting colder and colder.

***

"I don't like her."

Beatrice frowned as she placed a large portion of spaghetti in the bowl that she put on the table. Harpo grabbed the meal eagerly, taking a fork and completely disregarding the spoon that Beauty had put next to the fork in false hopes that her boyfriend would finally acquire some manners. Fat chance, the tuba player thought with a sigh as she watched the harpist slurp his breakfast eagerly. And loudly. "Fiona," she elaborated, placing herself on a stool next to Harpo. "I don't like her. She looks like a bitch."

"She looks like Octavia," Harpo slurred pointedly.

"You know what I'm talking about!" Beauty slammed her fist against the table, prompting the man next to her stop his gluttonous feast. "The way she acts. The way she's pulled Freddie all around her." The brunette sighed, leaning against her man. "I miss Octavia."

Harpo rubbed his nose against his Beauty's temple tenderly. "I know, dear. I know. I miss her too." He looked out of the window. The afternoon was setting over the city already. "But what can we do? It's her business. Her, and Frederic's." Which will never be solved.

"I know." Beauty sighed once more. "It's just... They're both our friends, you know? I don't want to lose any friends because of petty quarrels."

Harpo kept staring out of the window. That's not a petty quarrel, far from it. And you know it. The busy bustling of the city penetrated his ears. "I'll talk to him," the harpist promised. "You try to talk to her." A violent yell from the street flew into the room.

With a grunt, Harpo stood up and closed the window.

Beauty nodded. "I'll talk to Octavia."

"Good." Harpo returned to his meal. "Good."