Nigel Staccato, alias Neon Lights, rushed through the thick, glossy streets of the Downtown, the Centre that held all the pillars of the earth – the dancers, the accountants, the singers, the politicians, the fat cats, the lazy waiters, the city-crawlers, the worldmakers, the old maids and young men, the solitary and the groups, the empty and the full, the lust and the disappointment, the ups and downs, the move, the move, the move – and, as fate had it, slid with his Bordeaux-red shoe straight into a puddle of greying blue, skitting his sole through the muddy water, neverminding, rushing towards his goal, drunk on the air, his eyes drifting about. Every time he hit the street, the toxic sight of a decaying, broken city maddened him, infuriated his mind to the extent that he was flying through the streets, rushing past other human-race marathoners, marathonies, maraphonies; his swift, young, perceptible eyes took in, gulped, and successfully devoured every sight in sight, every man on the Main, every woman in every room, in a matter of seconds. Never prone to such severe agitation indoors, the street was his drug, and his perfect eyesight gifted him with the ability to make the best of it.

Indeed, it was something to marvel at: he who has eyes shall see! His soles circled the corner, stuttering their rhythm, m-mm-my g-g-geeeneration, as he ran on, ten thousand feet beneath the sky. The people slid past him, wide awake in their daily dreams, shivering and handshaking and headturning and smilegifting, and rare: peoplewatching, guitarplaying, philosositting on the park benches and by the river and in hipster coffee shops.

I will protect her. Agitated, Neon ran towards his goal, holding the address in his hand. She may not know it, but I know a cheating, lying whore when I see one! The man came to a halt before the skyscraper, his gaze travelling all the way up: where she was. Where they were. Wait for me, Octavia. Neon approached the door. Fear me, Octavia. For now that you’ve messed with my sister, I am become Death, destroyer of worlds.

“Tavi, I'm home!"

Vinyl slid through the opening, holding out the door with her toe as she dragged the bags after her. The cheese-filled bags were not heavy, but incredibly spacious, large enough to barely follow the spinner into the room, at the tugging of the woman's small, pinkish-white hand. As soon as she'd called out to her girlfriend, the girlfriend in question appeared, her arms crossed, a barely-suppressed smile tickling her lips as she leant against the wood of the doorless doorway.

"Hello, Vinyl," the woman greeted her spinner calmly, emerging from her triangular sleeping abode – or was it their sleeping abode now? – observing the numerous goods her girlfriend had bought. "And it's nice to think you consider my home yours," she lingered, the smile on her face evolving into a grin as Octavia realised, in content, that she'd once again managed to make the DJ girl blush.

"It's just that I kinda, you know..." Vinyl scratched the back of her head, the bags making their way to the corner, leaning against the cupboard. "I thought that, um, it'd be nice to come home and, well..." The rest was lost in incoherent mumbling that Octavia could not make out. Mmm, maybe I just need to make out with her. Then I'll be able to make out what she says~ Angel Octavia reminded the woman that it would only make the shy girl blush and mumble even more. Devil Octavia raised a sign, reading, The Sex Party are the new Tories. Octavia for PM!

"What was it, love?" Octavia called out, knowing very well that such a form of addressing would prompt even more blushing. And yet, she knew, it would also strengthen her, make her a little more determined - if she had scrutinised the effect correctly.

"It's just that..." Vinyl took a deep breath, wanting to look deeply in her girlfriend's eyes, and still averting her gaze. "I've always wanted to come home... to a place where I'd live with that one special girl... Just come home with some stuff I bought and just feel at home, you know?" Vinyl glanced at the cellist with a tiny smile. "I'd drop the bags and she'd come out and greet me and- mmffffm!"

Vinyl's eyes widened as her cellist, unable to just stand and watch as her pretty, sexy, cute girlfriend stammer out such sweet words, rushed to her side and tossed her hot lips against hers, meaning into the shy DJ's mouth as the kiss united them.

"And then what, dear?" Octavia asked with a smile, panting as she broke the kiss. A goofy smile appeared on Vinyl's face, adding to the cellist's delight. She's warming up, Octavia noticed once again in satisfaction. She's getting bolder. All thanks to me! The cellist could not fail to take some distorted, perverse pride in that fact.

"Well, then we could have a nice dinner..." Vinyl rubbed her shoed toe against the floor idly, observing it closely. "Maybe then kiss a little. And cuddle, and..."  The DJ lowered her voice to a whisper as she voiced her fantasies to her girlfriend. "Make love on a spacious, soft bed..."

"Oh?" Octavia wiggled her brow. "That last sentence-"

"I'm still not ready," Vinyl warned the woman, cursing herself, blaming herself for making her love wait. "But I... In perspective... yes, that's what I've dreamt of."

"Well, 'she' can offer you a kiss..." Octavia planted a breezy kiss on Vinyl's lips. "And a tasty dinner." The cellist smiled, waving her hand towards the kitchen. "Don't you smell it?" Octavia raised her brow. "The dinner?"

Vinyl winced a little, taking a step back as she looked away in embarrassment. "Tavi, I don't have the same... skill with smells as you do," the DJ reminded her girl. "I'm more about sounds, remember?"

“Oh.” Octavia blushed, running her fingers through her hair. Should’ve combed it better. “Well…” She chuckled. “Let’s proceed to the sound of us munching food!”

Vinyl raised her brow. Angel Octavia shook her head, while Devil Octavia facepalmed. She’s never gonna learn.

“Come on, Vinyl, you’re eating the chicken wrong,” Octavia pointed out, watching her spinner brave the sauce-dripping bird with a fork and a knife.

Vinyl blinked, taking a look at the utensils. “I’m pretty sure I’m eating it right.”

Snorting, Octavia took a wing from the plate and sank her teeth in the tender meat. “Vinyl, chicken is poultry. You don’t use utensils to eat poultry.”

“Big deal,” Vinyl grumbled, her cheeks tinting with a shade of embarrassed pink. “Besides, I prefer sushis. And chopsticks.”

“Vinyl, don’t tell me you order takeout twice a week and watch nerdy series,” Octavia laughed. Seeing the pink shade grow darker, she gasped. “Oh my God. You totally do. My little nerdie~” she cooed, brushing her finger against Vinyl’s rosy cheek. “Come on, Vinyl, I’m just teasing. It’s not like they teach table manners in college.”

Vinyl chuckled uneasily, her cheeks flaming. “I, um, I never graduated.”

Octavia raised her brow, putting the crunchy bird down on the plate. “Why did you drop out?” she asked, wondering if she was treading past dangerous grounds.

“I…” Vinyl gulped, putting down the fork. “I had my reasons.”

Jesus. Here we go again… It’s all secrets and lies with these disk-spinners… “I thought being in a relationship was all about honesty,” Octavia observed calmly, trying both to enquire and avoid hurting her girlfriend.

“My dad,” Vinyl admitted, picking up the fork again, disregarding any poultry-eating rules that might apply. “He… didn’t want me to graduate. He wanted me to get married instead.” Bitterly, the spinner chewed into the meat. “Then he died, and I never thought to get back.”

Octavia winced, the image of a prim, perfect Immanuel Staccato taking a step down from the pedestal she’d put him on. “Do… do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.” Vinyl smiled sadly, her eyes fixed on the table firmly. “He wasn’t a bad dad,” she said, as if trying to persuade herself. “We… we just weren’t really good kids.” The spinner shook her head. “No, I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Octavia nodded slowly, closing her eyes as she leant back against the wall, the violent hissing of the Outside roaring into her ears. This time, the stomping was especially unbearable. How can Vinyl live in this city with such good hearing? Laboriously, Octavia shut away the sound, concentrating on the smell instead. And yet, her nose cried when she realised that all there was to the dinner’s smell was shut out by the odour of dirty dishes and sweat that seemed to penetrate the room, permeating every corner and millimetre of the walls, resonating, reflecting right at her.

Meanwhile, Vinyl took in the beating of soles resonating from the street, marching in a weird samba-esque pattern that mixed in weirdly with a funeral procession, sombre and lively at the same time. Sounds like something from a Tom Waits song.

“Want some more pomegranate juice?” Octavia asked, sipping on her wine. It was rather cute - Vinyl’s substitute for alcohol. Vinyl shook her head in silence.

“So.” The cellist drummed her fingers against the table, trying to find a topic for her mind to linger on, just to break the uncomfortable silence. “What else are you dreaming of?” Octavia wondered, gazing into her DJ’s eyes in a half-lidded manner. “Apart from coming home and having sex till you cannot stand or sit for three hours straight?”  

Vinyl began to hyperventilate, her cheeks red with blood. Slowly, she calmed, not without an encouraging kiss from Octavia, and began to speak. “I was thinking of a villa somewhere on a tropical island.” Vinyl smiled dreamily. “Or just by the seaside, peaceful and serene. You know?, a place where I could live with that special girl of my own, away from ought and all…” The DJ’s voice trailed away as she closed her eyes, picturing the image in her mind. “We could go for walks along the shore, alone… The sound will be so pure, without other people polluting it: the swishing of the waves against the shore, the wind circling the palm trees, the crunch of our feet pressing into the sand…” Breathlessly, Vinyl leant in for a kiss, feeling Octavia’s lips meet hers – a feeling that became more and more pleasant every time it became more and more familiar. “Then, we could go home and have some fresh fruit for dinner… Sit on the terrace, our phones off, nobody bothering us… Just… alone.” Vinyl blushed. “We could, um, do… private adult things.”

Unable to restrict herself, Octavia burst out into laughter, snorty giggles following throaty chuckles. “Private adult things?”  Commanded by a surge of pleasant, loving warmth inside, the raven-haired woman threw her arms around Vinyl’s neck, crushing the sexy spinner in an embrace. “Vinyl, you’re adorable.” Never ever change that. “What precisely do you mean by ‘private adult things’, by the way?” Octavia asked in a whisper, caressing Vinyl’s neck with her index finger.

“Well,” Vinyl drawled, her neck turning a delightful shade of pink. “You know? Things adults do in private… Like, sexy things?” she suggested, the pink reddening by the second.

The fingers of Octavia’s hand tiptoed across Vinyl’s neck, running up to the blushy cheek in a tickly motion. “Mmm, sexy sexy things, huh?” Octavia traced her lips below Vinyl’s chin. “On a villa by the seaside?” The cellist purred into Vinyl’s neck, sending vibrations through the gentle skin. With delight, she registered a shiver and a moan from the disk-spinner. “I can imagine that. Me pushing you on a spacious bed, pinning you to the covers, my skilful tongue-“

“I-I-I-I get it!” Vinyl interrupted in an unusually high voice, her vivid imagination supplying elaborate images.

Octavia chimed with laughter. “Oh come on, Vinyl. I know you’re ‘not ready’ and all, but I can bet your hot ass that you want it~” With that, she pecked the blue-haired woman on the lips.

Vinyl frowned, averting her eyes for a moment. “Tavi, do I really have a fat ass?” she asked suddenly, piercing the cellist with her pained, honest eyes.

Octavia coughed on thin air. “What? No, of course not!” Agitated, she grabbed Vinyl’s hand in hers. “I never said that! Why would you ever ask?”

The DJ sighed. “It’s just that…” Vinyl gesticulated in the air with a fork that she’d picked up again, hot sauce dripping on her plate. “I dunno. I think I’m kinda self-conscious. I guess. I mean, in the queue, there was this fat woman?, and she told me I had to move my ‘fat ass’.” The DJ’s eyes veiled with hurt.

Octavia leant over and pecked her girlfriend on the cheek. “Vinyl, why would you ever care what people say?” Octavia gestured with her hand, slowly moving it all over, circling the flat. “Especially in our impenetrable fortress?” Impenetrable. Hehe. Now that you are here, my dear Vinyl, there is going to be some penetration… Angel Octavia facepalmed with vigour. Devil Octavia shrugged. Hey, the pun could be worse. Angel Octavia lifted her unamused eyes. Oh really?

Vinyl munched on the turkey. “Well, burglars would say otherwise.”

Octavia rolled her eyes. “I’ve got no hand in matters worldly, I hardly care at all,” she sang. “What’s going on fails to concern me ‘cause I’m locked behind my wall. Come on, Vinyl. You are a popular musician. You should be used to ill words coming from the media.”

Vinyl frowned. “Not really.”

“Well,” Octavia reasoned, “you are lesbian. Society’s prejudice should be nothing new to you.”

Vinyl cast her girlfriend a glare. “Hey, you are lesbian too.”

Octavia smirked. “And I’m holding up pretty well. Besides…” The woman licked her lips. “I am bisexual. I can do a man and a woman at the same time.” The words had their intended effect: Vinyl meeped quietly, her cheeks reddening. “Come on, Vinyl. If I paid attention to every mean thing ever said to me, I’d probably be dead from gritted teeth by now.” Octavia laughed. Vinyl raised a brow. Angel Octavia wept salty tears, wiping them off with a heavenly napkin. Devil Octavia reached out for her, patting the little angel on the shoulder. Hey, at least she’s trying.

Vinyl opened her mouth to object – or, rather, point out the dreadfulness of her cellist’s joke – when the doorbell rang in a soft, ting-tingy chime.

Octavia groaned. For fuck’s  sake. She put on a smile for her DJ. “I’ll get the door. Be back in a minute.”

With that, Octavia tiptoed towards the door, a sly, slightly tipsy smile on her face that was such a contrast to her inner irritation at whoever was tingling the doorbell, its chime buzzing in her ears at short, fervent intervals.

Upon opening the door, the cellist saw the scaringly familiar face of Vinyl’s brother, panting from an evidently prolonged run. “H-hello,” she greeted the guest clumsily, anger evaporating in the wake of confusion.

From behind her, Vinyl peeked out of the kitchen, bedazzled by Neon’s appearance. “Nini, what are you doing here?” she demanded, embarrassed to have her private dinner with Octavia interrupted by the sudden appearance of her brother.

Neon waved his hand enthusiastically. “Hi, sis. I need to have a few words with Octavia here.”

Reluctantly, Vinyl disappeared back into the kitchen. Her toes felt cold and numb, and her stomach complained in a feeble premonition. I need to know what they say to each other. For the first time, she didn’t know who to root for: on one side, she had her girlfriend; on the other side, she had her brother. And it was only evident there was a wall of ice between the two. There would be an argument. Cruel words might be said.

Vinyl tiptoed about the kitchen worriedly, hearing no voices coming from the living room. Finally, after a minute of internal debate, she slowly walked out, turning her head round, only to see no sign of either Neon or Octavia. Did they… leave? For a moment, a frightening image of Neon dragging Octavia away (or vice versa) lingered in her mind, only to be terminated once she heard voices arguing in the bathroom. Why would they?.. Oh. Apparently, the bathroom was the only place in the near-doorless flat where the two could talk behind closed doors to avoid Vinyl’s perfect hearing, of which both were quite aware. Avoid. Or not. Vinyl approached the door on the tips of her toes, pressing her ear against the thick wood of the door.

“There was a punishment for everything we did,” Neon’s voice hissed with venom and hurt from behind the door. “Not enough practice? He beat us up. Disagreeing? He beat us up. Not saying grace before dinner? He beat us up.”

Vinyl gulped, her sweaty ear pressed firm against the door, bits of information dripping into her mind drop by drop.

“She is very, very emotionally unstable,” Neon carried on. Something shifted. A sharking foot snagged against the carpet. “Shall your relationship go… unstable…” Shark shark shark. “Vinyl may be badly hurt. You don’t want to bring her even more pain, do you?”

“What do you know about pain?” Octavia whispered ferociously, but ever so quietly, so that even Vinyl with her perfect ears had to strain her hearing.

“Quite a lot,” Neon hissed back. Vinyl winced.

“When I was in college, my parents learnt that I was into girls.” Octavia’s tone was plain; bland, even. “I was renting a flat with my girlfriend at the time. … We were really happy together, away from ought and all.” Vinyl inhaled loudly, holding her breath. “My parents called me back home. I had to obey, you see. They sent me my allowance. I didn’t want it to be cut. I came home. My father…” The woman’s voice broke down for a moment. “He had some guests over. He tied me up. And… he… He let them rape me.” Vinyl shut her eyes. “Thought it would cure me.” Neon’s voice gasped. “It didn’t.”

“Why…” Neon’s coughed, covering up evident compassion. “You… Did you tell the police?”

Octavia didn’t make a sound for a long, painful ten seconds. “My father knew the chief of the police. They were groupmates in university. The judge, too.” Now Octavia chuckled sourly. “The benefits of graduating from a Law faculty.”

Vinyl didn’t breathe, her ear trembling against the wood of the door. “Do you want to know what I did?” Octavia’s voice demanded quietly.

“No.”

“I stood up, took a shower, and went back to college.” A pregnant pause filled the room. “You know nothing about pain or hurt, Neon.”

Vinyl turned her feet towards the door, shaking, shivering, her teeth clanking the national anthem comically. She took off, escaping the flat, running away. Tears rolled down her face, her nose, her cheeks, dropping onto the floor from her chin.

Tears covered her eyes, and they wouldn’t stop.

Next Chapter: 5. Taking Flight Estimated time remaining: 3 Hours, 56 Minutes