The DJ and The Cellist

Chapter Nine

***

"I don't understand."

What was there to understand, though? Either Bea lied, or... Or Freddie has been in love with me for a while, and I was too blind to notice. Octavia sighed, placing her head on her elbows, the surface of the table cold and dirty, with little crusts biting their way into the skin of her forehead. She didn't care. God... Maybe she had been too blind to notice. There had been signs, of course, those occasional... Argh. Maybe, she just... She just didn't want to notice... subconsciously? Blame it all on the subconsciouness. Sure. Was she afraid? Of what? Of him? Or... Of falling in love with her childhood friend? And - awful, awful thought! - hadn't she been afraid of the same when she began dating Vinyl?

"You need to leave,"  the cellist heard her girlfriend's voice. She must have been eavesdropping... Not that I can't be accused of the same. The cellist did not lift her head.

"I'm really really sorry!" Beauty's voice, begging, broken, reached the cellist's ears. "I didn't mean to say that! It was an honest slip-"

"Bea, you need to leave," Vinyl reiterated softly, placing her authoritative hand on the woman's shoulder. "It would be better both for you and Octavia." What would be better for me? the DJ wondered as she saw the tuba player to the door. Now... Octavia will... What will she do? Who will she choose? And, Vinyl thought as she entered the kitchen once more, will there be any choice to be made? What were the chances Octavia just wouldn't shrug it off?

"I don't understand," Octavia repeated, looking at her DJ, her chin resting on her hands flatly. "Frederic..."

"If you want to talk to him," Vinyl said, "that's fine." She chewed on her bottom lip a little before adding, "Whatever you decide on is fine."

"What do you mean, 'whatever I decide on'?"

"I mean," Vinyl explained, "that if you choose Frederic over me-"

Octavia pressed her hand against the DJ's lips violently. "Vinyl, you're an idiot," she confessed earnestly. "I have chosen you. Because I love you. The fact that I am deeply confused by this... revelation has nothing to do with the future of our relationship."

Both women fell silent, interrupted only by the clock ticking angrily on the wall, and the wind still howling from the outside. Vinyl walked to the window and closed it. "You... You'll want to talk to him, right?" Vinyl gulpedand closed her eyes. It's all right. It's all right. They'll just talk. And she'll come back home. To me. Oh, how she wanted for the whole thing to be plain and simple! Just a simple relationship, no troubles. No Frederics. No anxiety. Damnation of society, foundation of soicety - anxiety, Vinyl recalled the familiar lyrics.

"No," Octavia said firmly, dragging Vinyl into an embrace, soon followed by a deep kiss that surprised the disk-spinner: her cellist wasn't generous with kisses, and each soft, longing touch of her lips send her mind reeling in the pleasant waves of endorphines. "I want to have my practice. With you." The cellist smiled a little smile. "I think we're ready to compose that suite of ours."

***

"And a lydian scale here," Octavia murmured, scribbling notes on the paper. "What do you think, Vinyl?"

Vinyl raised her head, clinging back to reality. Her mind was still hazy, and her thoughts were roaming dark places. The issue with Frederic had not been resolved; simply avoiding it - the way Octavia seemed to have chosen - would do no good. "I dunno," she shrugged, trying to smile. She did want to smile. She did want for her cellist to be happy. But she was not sure - simply could not be sure - if she was the one to bring Octavia happiness. "I don't really compose music like that, you know."

"Huh?" Octavia raised her brow. "How do you compose music, then?"

Vinyl smiled, sensing tiny notes of arrogance in Octavia's tone. That was the voice of the... old Octavia. Octavia before their relationship. Octavia that didn't fear offending her. Once again Vinyl wondered if this relationship was worth it. But... It was worth it, wasn't it? How can it not be, she thought, gazing at Octavia's wonderful face, piercing with her eyes those beautiful pools of lavender, getting lost in the soft touch of her lips... How can it not be, when Octavia was the best woman in the world, to put it simply? And, Vinyl thought, Octavia is worth fighting for. Worth dying for, even. No - more. Worth living for.

"I just roll with a lot of samples," Vinyl explained. "I don't pay attention to the key or the scale or the mode. I just choose whatever sounds sound good to me and put them together, adding effects." Catching Octavia's bemused look, Vinyl shrugged. "What? I'm a DJ, after all."

Octavia sighed and rubbed her temples. This is harder than I imagined. And yet, Vinyl had cheered up. Somewhat. That has to amount to something. "Vinyl, we need to peruse Music Theory. I am going to write the cello part - and how are you going to 'lay down the beat'," Octavia emphasised the inverted commas with her fingers, "if you don't know what the key is and what scales and modes I'm using?"

Vinyl smiled. "That's easy." She approached the cellist, grabbing her by the waist possessively. She's my girlfriend, Vinyl had to remind herself. Won't hurt to be more... straightforward. "I roll with it, like I roll with you."

Octavia blushed, not even trying to free herself from her DJ's grip. I defintely like the more... aggressive side of Vinyl, she had to admit to herself. "Well, you must possess perfect ears, then."

Vinyl leaned in, her breath falling over Octavia's ear. "Not only ears, babe."

Octavia moaned as Vinyl kissed her neck tenderly. It wasn't a passionate kiss of lust, but rather a kiss of... love? Devotion? Infatuation? Love, definitely love. "Vinyl, let's..." The cellist shrieked as Vinyl planted a soft bite on her neck. Wow. "Let's get to the bedroom." By that moment, Octavia was already squirming in her DJ's embrace. "We can finish that... aah~ later. Let's get to the bedroom," she reiterated mindlessly.

Vinyl nodded in satisfaction. "Let's get to the bedroom."

And they did just that.