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Negative Cohesion

by ConnVolpe

Chapter 1: Vinyl's Magic Hour


You lay, staring at the ceiling, the comforting grasp of sleep evading you for the fourth night in a row. You cannot ignore the chill in the air that made you wish for something warm to hold close nor the unrelenting assault on your ears that shook the whole room to the core. Your groans of anger do nothing to drown out the ponies downstairs, nor do they prevent your tormentor from continuing the barrage of noise, or wubs as she called it.

Granted, Vinyl was a terrible housemate, but she had offered, or at least allowed you, a place to stay. You’d met her partner at the inaugural Ponyville Musical Variety show, the both of you invited to perform in the main orchestra. You later met the she-devil as you proceeded to walk the town with the Cellist. You could only remember the onslaught of jokes from a mistaken Vinyl at you and your new friend’s expense.

Offstage, Vinyl had seemed a friendly enough pony, and she did have an alluring quality that made her overly-enthusiastic personality grow on you. However, given a record table or any sort of musical technology, she would deafen you without a second though.

But alas, you could not pity yourself, oh no. For there was one whom giving up was not an option, having lived with the white menace for even longer than you. How she had managed this long without going deaf, insane or even a little grey-maned was beyond you.

You turn your head towards your clock, the luminescent hands showing you that Vinyl’s magical hour was still yet to come. With a groan, you turned over, pulling your pillow over your head as the noise blasted you as if you were standing right in front of it.

“Rough night?” somepony asked from the doorway, a yawn escaping her. Octavia could only sympathise with your plight, as she made her way further into the room, shutting the door behind her to little effect. She, like you, was dressed in cotton pyjamas, looking fatigued and weary and in no state to be out in public.

It was not the first time that you had met under these circumstances. Often you would enter each other’s bedrooms, seeking companionship only a shared loathing of electronic music could bring together.

More often than not, it was in your room, because you were the one with the gramophone. Yes, it took a pretty penny to get one, but nevertheless, the joy you both took out being able to reprieve from Vinyl’s onslaught was worth it.

“Yeah, it’s worse than usual” you sighed, attempting to ignore the flickering lights above you, “How she can go on like this and still wake to see the dawn is far more than I can understand.”

Octavia giggled, looking through the record collection, mentally judging each one, “More often than not, I’m the one waking her up.” Octavia glanced back towards you briefly, seeing your own laugh, and smiled.

Octavia was your best friend, and not much could change that. You could read each other like books. The both of you had often shared a laugh or two, attempting to forecast the other’s next move, and usually you were right. Like right now, for example, you knew which record she was going to pick. It was going to be-

“Octavia’s Moonlight Symphony. Finally a decent record.” However vain she might have been and no matter how often you would both listen to this particular record, you were glad she had picked that one. After all, it contained the first melodies you had heard her play. She wound up the gramophone for about the length of one song and let it play.

As the needle fell upon the record, you lay back, carried by the gentle rhythms, having no need to do anything but relax. You heard Octavia sigh, she too was letting the music move her. She took a few steps towards the bed, before attempting to climb upon it.

You feel the tell-tale struggle between hooves and sheets, smiling as you once again ‘forgot’ to help her. You would wait for the fight to be lost, and then offer your helping hand. It wouldn’t usually take long.

“Uh, a little help?” she asked, looking away and blushing, embarrassed by her inability to perform such a simple task as getting on top of the bed. Normally, you’d have helped here up immediately, but you were in a bad mood today, and so thought it better to torture her a little bit.

You turn over in bed, and make snoring noises. Impressions weren’t your strong suit and Octavia knew what you were doing, and gave a groan of frustration. She stamped her hoof behind you, and you could only image her pouting and stroppy.

“Oh, you big oaf, stop blatantly giving me grief and help a lady up!” she growled, stamping a hoof on the floor. It was a tantrum you would expect to see from a five year old filly, not a composed young mare like her. Seeing you had maybe passed the line a little bit, you sat up, holding out your hand for her to latch onto.

Rolling her eyes, she supressed a chuckle, giving a tug as she readied herself to be pulled up. Often she would jump, avoiding being dragged like a ragdoll onto the bed. She took a breath and began counting.

“On three, okay? One.” You tightened your grip around her hoof. “Two.” Muscles tensed, ready to aid her. “Three!” You pulled her up, as she jumped, and rose through the air to clear the side of the bed easily. However, her ascent didn’t end there, as she continued to gain altitude, going beyond your head height and almost into the ceiling.

And with that, she paused briefly in her flight, and fell to the bed with a soft landing, yourself cushioning her impact. She had landed muzzle to face with you, both of your chest pushed together in a close embrace. You were the second to recover from the impact, and, opening your eyes, found yourself face to face with Octavia, a faint blush on her face, and seeming lost in her own little world as she stared at you.

Being this close to her face, you broke out in a blush to rival the shiniest red apple. Having yourself almost muzzle to mouth with her, you found it hard to speak, only stuttering coming out. In the pale moonlight, her mulberry eyes shone and looked deep within you.

By the time any sort of recognisable word came to you, Octavia realised the position she was in, and her blush grew deeper. She looked away in a flash, smiling, and was reduced to a stammer. Seeing the uncomfortable silent for what it was, you chuckled, drawing her attention.

“W-what’s so funny?” she asked, an undertone of worry masked by her attempted stern expression. You could only grin, as Vinyl’s taunts of romance resurfaced, much to your own amusement. However, your daydreaming had only led to Octavia pouting, and pleading to tell her what was going on.

“Vinyl was right. We do have a lot in common. We’re both klutzes” you laughed, trying to lighten the mood. Octavia once again looked away, muttering to herself, a smile on her face. Neither of you had noticed the gramophone stop, as you shared a laugh.

As the laughter died down, only Vinyl’s beats could be heard. Neither of you had shifted out of the intimate position you had found yourselves in was, only finding some comfort in your proximity. Both of you avoided eye contact as much as possible, both shuffling to get yourselves closer and cosier. The tension in the air could be cut like butter, yet all it took was an innocent question to calm the surmounting storm.

“Uh, hey. Do- do you mind if I sleep in your room tonight?” Octavia asked, still not looking at you, but beginning to rest her head atop your chest, “It’s just- My room’s a little chilly in the winter, and since we’ve already warmed up the bed…” She fidgeted with her hooves, trying to avoid giving any direct attention to you.

You smirked, but knew better that to joke about it. You lifted up the side of your covers, letting a cool breeze flood in and the warmth escape, as Octavia looked over to see what you were doing. “Of course, I don’t see why not” you said, politely offering her a space next to you. You patted the bed just to make sure she knew, and watched as she rose to her hooves.

Gently, she walked up the bed and attempted to work her way into a comfortable position. She squeezed under the sheets and found a position that was comfortable enough to sleep in. She lay on her side, facing away from you, instead staring through the nearby window at the night’s sky.

“Goodnight…” she whispered, as she rested her head upon a pillow, ready to sleep. Under the covers, she lay a distance apart from you, not wanting to break into your personal space. She squirmed, her body trying to create any heat to warm herself, as the cool embrace of unmanned space in the bed.

Unsure of yourself, you forced a smile, even though she couldn’t see, and let out a relaxed sigh. “Night, Octavia. Sleep tight” you replied, yawning, as you began to let sleep take you. Closing your eyes, you snuggled under the covers for a bit more warmth and let your mind clear.

A few minutes passed in silence as Octavia still squirmed under the sheets, trying to create some heat. It had keep you awake, but you didn’t show it lest you raise her concern. She had mumbled to herself several times and you could only assume she had stolen a glance at yourself occasionally before begrudging you your false catatonic state as she shivered.

Still not satisfied, she gave a frustrated grumble as she finally ceased in her fight for comfort. She settled into the pillow with a soft thud, and whimpered. Silence fell as Octavia admitted defeat, before she gave a sigh, and gave in to her impulses. You could feel her scooting close to you under the covers, backing herself up gradually to share the heat you were radiating.

Slowly and cautiously, she inched closer and closer as you began to feel her own heat radiating. It was much less intense than your own, and seemed to grasp at all you had to spare. She stopped for the moment, as she capitalized on the heat you had given her and relaxed.

You were glad to have given her some comfort, even if unintentionally, yet still felt the need to give her more. In essence, she was unlikely to steal much more of your heat by her own whims but you could still feel her shiver slightly as the occasional draft blew through the room.

You edged closer, nervous that your actions could be misconceived as romantic. Octavia didn’t not stir nor show any sign that she knew of your movement but still you began to sweat as you stole a few more centimetres from the gap between your bodies. Wanting to take that extra step, your body froze as Octavia’s breathing wavered slightly, as though something was still wrong; the halt in your momentum broke any will you could muster to get any closer to her.

You sighed, a little sad that you hadn’t got any closer, and once again, snuggled into your covers and into the embrace of the warm bed. You almost felt sorry for Octavia; your own self-consciousness preventing you from aiding her like you wanted to.

Your eyelids fluttered as you regained your drowsy feeling, prepared to dream until tomorrow, but shot wide as Octavia suddenly sprang into your lap, her whole body fitting the curves of your sleeping position perfectly. It took you by surprise and began your panic. Should you move? What if she were to wake up whilst you were snuggled like this?

Your worries were quickly quelled by the sigh of content Octavia let out as she snuggled further into your lap. She was slightly cold to the touch, but her soft fur provided no discomfort to you, tickling as it brushed against your bare skin. With almost no thought, you begin to wrap your arms around her in a warm hug. She stiffens but relaxes quickly, leaning into you. You could feel nought but your intimate embrace with the Cellist and you were sure that she was sharing the experience, cooing as you cuddled her.

“Thanks…” she whispered, her whole body heating up at the intimacy of the embrace. She was relaxed, no longer fighting for warmth but letting you hold her close and share your body heat as the two of you were entwined. Together, you both fell limp as sleep took you, not noticing how the music below had vanished and the bedroom door had opened to reveal a tired DJ, smug at seeing her jokes had a little more base than the bed’s occupants had first believed them to have.

Author's Notes:

Fun to write, not too bad I don't think.

Anyhow, I've wanted to write something with Octavia for a while now, and I've had a bit of free time now mocks are finished.

ALSO, HAPPY NEW YEAR! *blows party horn"

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