The taxi crawled down the busy street. Octavia wished the constant traffic would disperse as she shifted uneasily in her seat, next to a very nervous Vinyl. She didn’t care much about Neon, who was alien and a little crazy to her, but if something as serious as a suicide attempt had really taken place, it had a terrible impact on her girlfriend; and Vinyl’s well-being was something she cared about.

“Can’t you go faster?” Vinyl addressed the driver in irritation. Octavia hadn’t seen her lover like this before. Initially, upon hearing the news, Vinyl seemed broken, ready to break into tears or crawl into a corner and stay there - which wouldn’t be surprising, giving her shy and calm nature. But, instead, she had turned into a strong, steely woman who had one goal before her: reaching her brother, and who was intent on breaking everything that stood in her way. To Octavia, it was scary, and more than a little enticing. If the circumstances were different, she would find this new Vinyl arousing. Ah hell, she found it arousing anyway.

“Can’t go faster in a traffic jam,” the driver drawled, a thin, lazy man of Indian origin. Vinyl growled and leant back, placing her thumb and index finger on her closed eyelids. Shapes danced before her eyes: broken circles and ovals, bands of unyielding light and colourful confetti of dots. Hold on, Nini, I’m coming.

Oh, how she blamed herself! How wrong had she been, to run away with Octavia! How wrong had it been to just abandon her brother like that! Love had hit her in the head, working like the terrible drug it was. Such strong, romantic infatuation had left her woozy, forgetful of what was solid and steady, making her let go of the pillars of the earth and fly. But humans aren’t supposed to fly. They are supposed to hold to the pillars of the earth. To family. To those who always loved her, with a love that could never be compared to what she felt towards Octavia. With warm, brotherly love. To those who always protected her when Father tried to… Neon lived his whole life for her, had always lived his whole life for her, and now she had betrayed him so. Anger was boiling inside Vinyl’s mind, anger both towards herself and towards Octavia.

“Uh, I really wanna pee,” Vinyl heard Octavia’s voice utter. She refused to reply, knowing very well that she could burst, that she could snap at her lover… though, wouldn’t she deserve it? Okay. Calming down now. Thinking reasonable thoughts. The reasonable way to avoid this mess would have been talking to Octavia alone, facing their fathers’ memories together, then meeting up with Neon… How hadn’t she noticed that he was going nuts? He had always been a little strange, true, but trying to kill himself… What was going on here?! Why wasn’t his girlfriend with him? Madeline, or what was her name? Why hadn’t she- Agh! When, in reality, she, Vinyl, should have been with him. Not with Octavia. Lovers come and go, but family stays.

Just as Vinyl had arrived at this conclusion, the car stopped completely upon turning onto the side street. “What’s the matter?” Vinyl demanded angrily, opening her eyes. Every stop was a gap between her and her brother, every deviation from that path was unacceptable. “Why did we stop?”

“There’s a gay pride parade blocking the street,” the driver explained in irritation. “We’ll have to find a turnaround.”

“Gah!” Vinyl roared and, throwing bills at the driver’s face, stormed out of the car, followed by a very shocked Octavia. Fucking parade! Marching past the gleeful crowd of rainbow-coloured people, Vinyl shouted, even though she knew her yell would be drowned out: “You fucking faggots! God hates you, each and every one of you!” With that, she took a sharp right and changed to a jog. It’s not far. A few kilometres. We can get there soon enough.

“Vinyl, you do know you’re lesb-” Octavia began, trying to catch up with her girlfriend, suffering from the heat. Dammit, I really gotta pee!

“Tavi, shut up and follow me!” Vinyl growled, speeding up her pace. “Save. Your. Breath!” She ran, taking short breaths, never minding the temperature, letting her feet do the trick. Wait for me, Nini. I’m coming.

***

“And then I said, Oatmeal? Are you crazy?!” Frederic laughed, slapping himself on the knee. As he saw Neon’s adamant facial expression, his smile faltered somewhat. For a few seconds the two men just stared at one another. “Yeah, you’re right,” Frederic admitted finally. “That’s a crappy joke.” Neon smiled and nodded once, firmly. “Wanna try your hand at a joke yourself?” the pianist attempted to bring the manager out of his silent shell. “You’ve always had the best jokes.”

Neon shook his head slightly, giving a tiny smile that was so unlike him. The usual grin, the wider-than-life grin with full teeth, white and alluring, was gone from his face, replaced with this small, shy, apologetic smile. If Frederic didn’t know any better-

The door burst open and in rushed a lean woman in a blue T-shirt, a white shirt on top, her neck sweating, her blue hair dishevelled and grimy. “Nini!” she exclaimed, running towards the bed, just as Octavia followed the woman into the ward impatiently. “The nurse said you were here and I got here as fast as I could and Nini, God, are you all right? What happened? Did you really try to-? Why would you-!”

“Oh great, you’re alive, uh, nice suit, I really really have to pee!” With that, Octavia stormed out of the ward, shutting the door behind her.

Frederic blinked and got up from the armchair. “Ahem. You must be Vinyl, Neon’s sister. I don’t believe we’ve met…” Then he noticed that the woman was paying him no attention whatsoever, instead clinging to Neon, showering him with small kisses, lying on top of him, her arms around his neck. “I’m Frederic. Octavia may have mentioned-” he tried again, but fell silent as Vinyl’s head jerked up and she turned towards him, giving him a brief lookover with those strange, mesmerising magenta-red eyes.

“Vinyl. I’m Vinyl Scratch. Nice to meet you.” It wasn’t nice, Frederic could see. She didn’t give a damn. Well, she was entitled to that. At least she recognised his existence in the world. Why would anyone, really? “Sorry, I, um, I need to talk to my brother.” She turned back to Neon. “Nini, please answer me!”

Neon just gave her this sad, tiny smile and shook his head slightly. Vinyl’s face fell in an instant as she shook her brother a little by the neck. “Nini, stop playing games. Talk to me! What did you do to yourself?” Neon shrugged - which was a funny gesture, considering that his sister was still pinning him to the bed. Vinyl sat up in a motion that would make Frederic consider it a sexual position, if they weren’t dressed… and, well, siblings. The DJ grabbed Neon’s hands and inspected his wrists closely. “You didn’t… Did you eat sleeping pills?” Vinyl asked sternly.

Frederic marvelled at how this tiny woman established immediate dominance, how strong her character was, apparently, that she, the younger sister, had immediately began caring for her brother, as soon as she’d entered the “room”. “He tried to jump out of the window,” Frederic said, knowing that this was not really helpful. Stating the truth was never helpful. It is the comfort, not the truth, that people want. Something that helps us is what we desire, not something that puts us into misery. “I caught him,” he supplied quickly. Great. Now that sounded like boasting. If I were an actor in a play, some shallow viewers would think I have a superiority complex.

“He did WHAT?” Vinyl almost fell off the bed, clinging to her brother like to a buoy in the middle of the sea. “Nini, you did WHAT?” The woman got off the bed, pointing her finger dramatically at Neon. She probably doesn’t realise how ridiculous she looks, Frederic thought automatically. Hell, do I ever realise how ridiculous I look? “Why would you do that, Nini?” Vinyl demanded.

Neon shrugged.

“Has something to do with you running away, I guess,” Frederic mumbled and immediately received a harsh stare from the spinner. Wow. I did not just say that out loud. Now she must think I’m an asshole. Which I probably am.

“I thought you would take care of him!” Vinyl lashed out at the pianist, stuffing away the thought, that painful, but true, thought that she hadn’t thought that: she hadn’t thought about her brother at all. “Or, well, that girl… What was her name? Melanie? Madeline?” Neon shook his head furiously, something like fear in his eyes. “What’s the matter, Nini?”

“How to put this nicely…” Frederic mumbled, feeling extremely uneasy as he came to the conclusion that there was no way to put this nicely. “Neon kind of proposed to her. And she said yes.”

“What?!” Vinyl’s eyes shifted between her brother and his friend, with vain hope that it was all a joke, a prank, an elaborate hoax. “W-what? How does this-”

“Neon proposed to his girl, and she agreed. And then he tried to fling himself from the window. And now he refuses to talk to anyone.” Frederic winced at his own wording. Welp, I could never choose the right words. “I don’t know if he… got ill… because of that or prior to that.”

It was clear Vinyl had a lot of questions in mind. She had already opened her mouth to ask them, and Frederic prepared to answer, which was particularly hard due to the fact that he knew almost nothing about Madeline and her influence on his friend - but the door opened, and in stormed Octavia. “Great, you’re still here.” The cellist took a deep breath and smiled. “Finally peeing after holding it for so long is better than having an orgasm.” Devil Octavia took her monocle and a cup of tea, nodding to a very bedazzled Angel Octavia. Yes, quite.

Frederic sighed at the sight of Vinyl trembling slightly, with a painful wince on her face. This can’t end well. Time to intervene. “Octavia, can’t you be a little, you know, more serious?”

“Yeah, my brother is in hospital, as you can see!” Vinyl spat out, a wave of anger building within her. It was obvious to Frederic that this young woman was shaking with guilt; but the natural reaction is to bestow the gift of guilt upon someone close - and that someone, for her, was her girlfriend, Octavia. Who is more than guilty, to be frank.

“Well, love, he seems all right to me.” Octavia cast a swift glare at the patient, a glare that told Frederic a lot - and which scared him as he recognised this exact glare from all the past times with Octavia. Octavia was trying to delegate guilt as well - and who better to delegate it to than…

“He tried to commit suicide!” Vinyl exclaimed, advancing on her girlfriend dangerously. Her hand shot out as she pointed at her brother without breaking eye contact with Octavia. “And now he refuses to talk to anybody!”

“Octavia, don’t-” Frederic extended his arm towards the couple warningly. He knew where this was going. He didn’t know how Vinyl would react, but he knew Octavia too damn well. She couldn’t snap out at Vinyl. She had found solace in her, and stability. She had two outlets in this room, two outlets to channel her anger towards. And while Frederic so selfishly wished it was him...

Octavia took a step sideways, crossing the little distance between where she was standing and the bed, and glared at Neon. “You’ve put your sister through so much stress and worry,” she said pointedly, pointing an accusing finger at the silent man, whose brows were high enough to warrant a face surgery, “and now you didn’t even want to talk to her? Way to be an asshole!”

Vinyl began shaking uncontrollably. Her fingers first stood at attention, straight as razorblades, then clenched tight into fists. Frederic wanted to take a step towards her, but was stuck in place, frozen by the fury shedding off of the spinner. ”What did you say about my brother?!” Octavia turned round slowly, as if in slow-motion, failing to understand what had triggered her lover so. “What the fuck did you say about my brother?!”  

Octavia opened her mouth to object, but, with a roar, Vinyl threw herself at the woman, pummeling her with those tiny fists of ehrs. “It’s all your fault!” she shouted, landing blow after blow on Octavia’s shoulder. “Yours, not his! You took me away from him!” Smack smack smack. “You booked those damn tickets!” Smack smack smack. “We should have just talked, the three of us!” Smack smack smack. “But instead, you took me away from my brother!”

Octavia didn’t even back down. She just stood there, bedazzled, receiving blow after blow. The world had frozen around her. She could hear Frederic trying to shout something; out of the corner of her eye she saw Neon sit up in bed, watching the scene curiously, but distantly, as if it wasn’t his place to interfere; but she could only focus on the rage, the rage Vinyl was soaked in, the rage she was unleashing upon her lover. Suddenly the cellist felt very tired. Accepting. Afloat. She had felt like this once, when she’d slept for over sixteen hours and her dreams had been filled with constant waking, performing routine tasks, and waking again. She did realise that it was a dream, but there was no way out. Like now. There was no way out. “I…” was all she managed to say.

“Get out!” Vinyl raged, taking a step back and pointing her trembling index finger at the raven-haired woman. “Get the hell out before you say something else that’ll poison us both!”

Octavia staggered, but Frederic was there to catch her. Holding her by the shoulders, she slowly escorted her out of the ward, never casting a glance at the infuriated lover. Vinyl’s rage began to fade, vanishing in the wake of Octavia’s absence - and the only thing she could focus now was her brother’s condition. “Nini, sorry, sorry for the scene.” She gulped and neared the bed, stepping softly on the floor. The big bad wolf is gone now, Angel Vinyl cooed from the shoulder. Ain’t we the big bad wolf, really? Devil Vinyl wondered. “Please, Nini, please talk to me!” Vinyl begged, realising how much she needed this, how she couldn’t go on without a tiny, fractured piece of her brother’s support.

Neon blinked slowly - a blink which felt as if he was just closing and reopening his eyes - and smiled at his sister, patting the space next to him on the bed. “Hi, sis. How’s the weather?”

***

“No, Octavia!” Frederic slammed his fist against the bar counter, attracting unwanted attention from the patrons. The bartender, though, remained silent and just stood there in the corner, cleaning a glass. Something told Frederic that every bartender had such a glass that he could just clean and clean with a dirty piece of cloth. Just to pass the time. “You are the problem, Octavia. You are not a solution. You’re part of the problem.”

“The fuck are you talking about?” Octavia growled, cradling her glass of whisky. The woman’s eyes were roaming around the bar, stopping at faces for mere moments, then drifting away as they realised the faces weren’t Vinyl’s. “In case you haven’t noticed, I have a little over half a dozen whiskies inside me, so speak in simple. Fucking. Terms.”

“You. Fucked. Up.” Frederic took a sip of his beer, wincing at its coldness. Beer from the fridge was good outside, but in a damp underground bar, it was a little too cold. “Are those terms simple enough? You acted up. You took your lover away from her brother. You basically kidnapped her. And you don’t feel a touch of compassion for Neon.”

“Why the fuck should I feel compassion for him?” Octavia snapped back, downing the whisky in one gulp, without a wince. The burn was no longer noticeable in the throat, and her belly was full enough with alcohol not to notice the arrival of another hundred milliliters. “He’s just a-”

“He is Vinyl’s brother, for fucksake!” Frederic slammed his fist again the table in irritation again. “God fucking dammit, Octavia, didn’t your parents teach you the slightest bit of compassion?!” he exclaimed, the words still escaping his lips before he could realise what he was saying. Thankfully, Octavia was too drunk or too tired or a little bit of both - to have noticed the phrasing. “Octavia, what I’m trying to say is,” Frederic began again, trying to keep his voice reasonable, “you have to take other people’s interests into consideration. I know you’ve been badly hurt, but that doesn’t mean you can just not care about other people!” Like you stopped caring about me. Like you will probably stop caring about Vinyl when you find someone else.

“I care about Vinyl,” Octavia said quietly and ordered another whisky. Frederic made a gesture to the barkeep to stop serving the cellist, but money pays, and so the whisky poured into the glass. “I do care about her. Even though she doesn’t seem to care about me.” Octavia sipped on the drink cautiously.

“Caring about Vinyl entails caring about her family!” Frederic attempted to bring this simple truth to the cellist’s understanding, helping himself with wild gesticulation. “If you care about her, you should care about her brother. It’s family, Octavia!”

“Oh, it’s family, yeah?” Octavia finished off the glass and slammed it against the counter, making Frederic wonder just how many times this particular glass had been slammed against this particular counter and how it had held all these times. “Well, lemme tell you something about family!”

Frederic raised his hand in fear and surrender. He didn’t want for this to happen. But with Octavia, every word was a landmine. Since the time she had left him, he’d lost his ability to navigate her. Once, he could step easily through this daisy field and embrace and kiss her, and those healing touches helped her. Then, when she no longer needed them, she waltzed away, leaving him in the middle of the daisy field. But the daisies never bloomed again. “Octavia, I didn’t-”

“My family,” Octavia advanced on the pianist, which was comic, given how they were both glued to barstools, “fucking hated me, Freddie! How am I supposed to care for other people when nobody cared for me?!” Frederic tried to back down, no less comically. “How am I supposed to care for Vinyl’s family, when my father, my own father-!” Octavia took a breath, her cheeks red with blood and heat, her eyes wide and mad, looking way past Frederic. Then she deflated, collapsing into sobs over the bar counter.

Frederic didn’t know what to do. He reached out for Octavia awkwardly with his hand, his arm hovering above the cellist’s back. Reluctantly, he withdrew the hand. With a deep sigh, Frederic motioned for a barkeep. “I’ll need a stronger drink for this.”

***

“Come on, Nini.” Vinyl waved her hand, which was holding the little white pill, before Neon’s face. “Open wide. Say aaaah.” She poked the pill against her brother’s lips. Neon shook his head. Vinyl poked the pill again. “Yummy yummy pills that will help you with your mental issues,” she tried again, all insecurities forgotten as she had taken the mantle of responsibility. Nini has been strong for me all this time. Time for me to be strong for him.

“Those are antidepressants,” Neon said , turning his head away from his sister. “I am not depressed. Just crazy.” The patient smiled, turning his head back. Vinyl gazed into her brother’s eyes, seeing pure, untainted, untinted love.

“You’ll have to talk to the doctor so they can give you the pills you need.” Vinyl tried to open her brother’s mouth with the other hand while tapping the pill against his lips. “For now, just take this one that the doctor gave you.”

“I have nothing to say to them, sis,” Neon replied, turning his head away again while the spinner tried vainly to make him take the medicine. “Besides…” He smiled a strange smile, a smile Vinyl hadn’t seen for a while: neither his old whitetoothed grin nor the new shy tiny smile. He smiled a smile he’d smiled when they were kids: a smile full of brotherly love and compassion. “I only need you, sis.”

“Aww, Nini…” Vinyl kissed the tip of her brother’s nose. “That’s so sweet… Say it again, please.”

Neon smiled the same smile and repeated, “I only need you in my li-”

“Om!” Vinyl swiftly extended her hand and put the pill into Neon’s mouth, immediately bringing a glass of water to his lips. “There! Now drink. Gulp gulp gulp.” As Neon swallowed the medicine, Vinyl smiled and patted his head patiently. “There. Good Nini. Who’s a good Nini?”

“Sis, that sounds creepy.” Neon laughed, and Vinyl marvelled at how his laugh was different from Octavia’s laugh: a low, rusty bark jumping at times to minute shrieking, so unstable, while Octavia’s laugh was a soft, merry jingle… Tavi… Vinyl got up and walked towards the window. Darkness was still preparing to take over the world, not yet descending on the city, but giving hints of the coming night already. The sun was down, but the light remained, illuminating the yard that was taken by rain. Rain fell in rivulets, dripped down from the roof of the hospital, formed puddles on the wet grass down below.

“It’s all my fault,” Vinyl said bitterly. “I just heard you and Tavi talking about…” She gulped down and took a breath. When she spoke up again, her voice held not only bitterness, but also acceptance. “About how Dad treated us… and how her father treated her… I just ran away. Then she came and comforted me.” A shade of a smile touched the spinner’s lips. “She booked two tickets for us to fly to Montenegro. We stayed at a villa. I guess I just wanted to run away from it all…” With a deep, sombre sigh, Vinyl shook her head in defeat. “What I didn’t realise was that I was running from you.”

For a while Neon was silent, so long that Vinyl was afraid he’d fallen into his no-speaking phase once again. Then he smiled. “If I said that wasn’t your fault, would it make you feel better?”

Vinyl took a long, thoughtful look at her brother before returning her attention to the window. Looking through the window had helped her many times. Shutting out all other senses, focusing on the silence of the outside. But there was never silence for her. Even now, she heard the different sides of rain droplets: hitting the ground with a meaty splut, ending up in puddles with splashes, drumming on the building with a metallic tingle. She heard the breath of her brother and her own heart beating in her chest. She heard the white noise reflecting off the walls of the ward. Could there never be silence? With such hearing, the everpresent din of life had long ceased to be special. “It would be a lie.” Vinyl said finally. She didn’t specify whether it would make her feel better because both knew that it would make her feel better. But it would still be a lie.

“Then…” Neon sighed deeply, looking at his sister’s back. “Yes, sis. It was your fault. Partly,” he added swiftly, proceeding with an explanation: “It was your fault because you ran away without talking to me. You think that dialogue with Octavia didn’t hurt me too?” Neon asked, watching Vinyl shiver a little but keep looking out of the window. “It did. I always loved Dad, you know.” Now Vinyl did look over her shoulder for a moment, channeling all the pain of her past and present into that look. “I think I still do,” Neon continued. “If I can hide my emotions before you, it’s just because I don’t want to see you hurt.”

Now Vinyl did turn round, walking towards the bed, slightly falling onto the tips of her toes, as if she were crawling in order not to disturb some home-made idyllic moment. Almost as if she and Neon were teenagers again, trying to strike it big in the music world, having only one another to hold to. Only each other to cling to, together. She reached the bed and nudged her brother aside, sitting next to him on the very edge, almost sliding off. I do have a big butt, a thought crossed her mind. Devil Vinyl approved. “I think that holding all those emotions inside has finally driven you nuts,” Vinyl said bitterly, putting her hand on her brother’s cheek. She looked at his young, yet mature, face, untouched by the madness that was apparently somewhere within. “Why did you do this, Nini?” she asked again, her voice no longer breaking, just trying to understand. “I’m not pressuring you, I just want…” Vinyl took her hand off her brother’s face and, taking his hand in hers, put it against her cheek. “I just want to understand your motivation. To help you heal.”

Neon chuckled and patted Vinyl’s head. “Sometimes, you are staggeringly cute, sis. And startlingly wise.” Seeing demand in his little sister’s gaze, he finally settled on, “There was no motivation. You ever get this feeling that everything you do happens on its own?” His hand made its way back to his side. “Sometimes I feel everything is outside my reach. That someone else decides what I do. No, I don’t hear voices,” he quickly supplied as he saw Vinyl’s mouth opening in worry. “It’s just… I feel like I’m a toy in Destiny’s hands. So I just do what seems… what seems like what I should do. What is expected of me. What I would do if I were an actor in a movie.” Neon rubbed his chin, which was unshaven and itchy. “I would make a crappy actor, though. I dunno. I just… You ran away, I needed some compassion, I proposed to Maddie, I gave Frederic the label, I jumped out of the window. I dunno why I did it. It seemed like a fitting ending.” Seeing deep, primeval fear in Vinyl’s eyes at such wording, he winced. “I know I sound crazy. It’s because I probably am. Look, I’ll talk to the doc if it makes you feel all right.”

“Please do,” Vinyl urged, leaning over and kissing her brother on the rough, unshaven cheek. Then a thought crossed her mind, a thought that led to an immediate realisation. “Wait, you did what? You tried to give away our label?”

“I did give away our label,” Neon corrected with a tiny smile. “Hey, look, I’m crazy! I’m allowed to do crazy things.” He grabbed Vinyl by the elbow and drew her in, laughing as his sister fell on top of him with a yelp. “Also, I was pretty disoriented after proposing to Maddie. And crushing Dad’s office.” Neon sighed. “One way or another, it’s Frederic’s label now. Pretty much.”

“You…” Vinyl said slowly, trying to come to terms with what she’d just heard. “You did…” She sighed, shutting her eyes tight. “It was Dad’s office…” Conflicting emotions fought within her. Emotions that had nothing to do with her inner angels and demons - nor the angel and demon on her shoulders who had fallen strangely silent and just sat in the divine bedroom, Angel Vinyl’s head on Devil Vinyl’s shoulder. “You know what. You were probably right. I… His office… No, that’s…” Vinyl sighed and just buried her face into Neon’s broad, muscular chest. The tracksuit felt pleasant against her nose and she exhaled, ceasing all thoughts. Once more she was the little girl and Neon was the older brother to take care of her. She could live with illusion for a few moments, right?

“The deal is in effect, though,” Neon said calmly, stroking Vinyl’s back. “Of course, you can challenge it on the grounds of my insanity, but I think it’s for the better. It’s time we let go.” Vinyl lifted her head to look into Neon’s eyes, which was more than a little weird, considering how close their faces were. Thankfully, no embarrassing thoughts entered Vinyl’s mind. How could they? She trusted her brother more than anyone in the world. Which was hurting her all the more, considering how badly she had wounded him. “It’s time we stopped being driven by Dad. We need to begin again. You and me.”

Vinyl felt there was more to this phrase than the implication that they needed to start a new business. There was an underlying tone that told her that not everything was lost, that Neon could be healed, that they could be happy again. So she clarified: “Yes. Begin again. As brother and sister.” She pecked her brother on the side of the lips, like all those times when they were kids and she had to stand on her toes to reach her big brother.”I’m sorry I valued Octavia over you, Nini. I just… fell in love, I guess.” The spinner furrowed her brows sternly. “But if she wants to keep dating me now, she’ll need to accept that you’ll always be my number one.” She booped Neon’s nose. “You’re family, and you are more important. If Octavia can accept that… we’ll have a future with her. If… If you don’t mind.”

“I don’t think she’s a bad woman, sis,” Neon said, running the length of his index finger through the stubble. “She can help you start anew.”

Can she? “It’s her fault,” Vinyl said bitterly. She looked at her hands, petite and white. The hands that had never held anything heavier than a crossfader. “She took me away from you. She’s the one to blame.”

Neon sat up in bed, wrapping his arms around his sister lovingly. “Remember when I said it was partly your fault?” He didn’t wait for Vinyl to nod. “Well, it’s partly her fault too. For acting so quickly. For not thinking what would be best for all of us. For taking you away from me.” Vinyl winced painfully, still looking at her hands. So unlike her father’s hands. Those were rough, lines adorning the palms. Those were the hands of a working man who, despite turning into a celebrity, had never forgotten what being a worker was like. “But most of all,” Neon concluded, letting his sister out of the embrace. “It’s my fault. I forgot I had you to look after. I wanted some closure. I went nuts.”

Vinyl rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “You did, didn’t you.”

Neon laughed, ruffling her sister’s hair. “I did. But I think we do have a chance to begin again.” He rubbed his chin, feeling the stubble scratch the tips of his fingers. “But we have to decide what to do with Madeline first…”

***

“Come on, Freddie, fuck me.” Octavia wrapped her arms around Frederic’s neck, trying to drag him into a kiss immediately upon stepping into her queerly-planned penthouse flat. There was no smell of colombian coffee, only the scents of booze and sweat. “You’re the one. To hell with Vinyl, I know you are the only one who ever understood me.”

“Jesus Christ, Octavia, stop!” With a little difficulty, the pianist freed himself from the inebriated woman’s grasp, watching her almost collapse to the floor. “Please sober up!” Realising how ridiculous that sounded in the given circumstances, he carefully guided her to the bedroom, the bedroom that held so many memories of the two of them, together. Memories that had now become muddled, replaced wholesale.

Gently, but swiftly, he laid the woman on the bed, deciding against undressing her. In return, Octavia shot up, trying to hit his face with her lips drunkenly. “For Christ’s sake, Octavia, no!” Frederic snapped, pushing the woman away. “I’m not going to help you do something you’ll seriously regret!”

Octavia looked at him, sitting in bed, her eyes hazy, her posture lamentable. “Then I’ll tell everyone you raped me.” At Frederic’s shocked expression, she laughed a dirty laugh and put the tip of her index finger in her mouth. “I’ll tell the police you raped me, and you’ll go to jail.” She laughed again, making Frederic take an involuntary step back. “And then the inmates will rape you. And, and, not just me.” Octavia’s smiled faded, and she fell on the bed, her head on the side. “If, if I do what they did to me…”

“What?!” Frederic didn’t bother reaching the woman. Okay. I tried. God knows I tried. But this is where I draw the line. “Listen, Octavia,” he spoke seriously, in hopes that the drunk woman would understand him, “you are seriously messed up. I tried to help you, God knows I tried. But you need real help. And I am not sure I can provide it.”

Octavia didn’t reply, and Frederic had nothing more to say. He extended his hand and put in back again. With that, he  walked out into the chilly, unwelcoming urban night.

Walking down the street. Should I set her up with a doctor? Ah hell, when did doctors help with anything? She would wake up in the morning and probably never remember this. She’ll reconcile with Vinyl, and they’ll live a long happy life together. But she will never care. She’s been bruised too badly to ever care about someone but herself. But is she trying? If she really does care… She is trying, right?

It’s the very notion of trying that is rewarded. Even in uni. When the professors saw he was trying, he was attempting to learn, they saw the lust for knowledge and perfection, that’s where they gave him those excellent marks. But a fair share of ‘B’s, both deserved and undeserved. In her book, always ‘deserved’.

Octavia had never taken his side. Always had he been there for her, always had he taken her side in little petty arguments with third parties, but never ever had she tried to take his side. She didn’t notice it, really. How could she? It was always “The prof was probably right” and “You should have kept your mouth shut” and “She does have a point, doesn’t she?” For years he’d been trying to build trust with the woman he’d rescued, but all he had managed to build was love.

Ah. That wasn’t really love, was it? Maybe it had been, once. But now… Hadn’t he given her all he could give? Hadn’t he tried his best to make her whole again? Hadn’t he told her his deepest secrets? So why didn’t you tell her Neon gave you the label? Because it wasn’t important. One would think such a thing is important for someone who co-owns the label. Shut up. Why didn’t you tell her, Freddie? Shut up shut up shut up. Why? Because I wanted the label! Because it’s a chance for me to shine! Because it will bring me money! Because-

The phone rang. Frederic picked it up, noticing with surprise that darkness had finally covered the city, the white, warm summer darkness that left you more bedazzled than afraid, more reluctant than inspired. “Frederic. If you don’t come back, I’ll jump out of the window.”

Cursing his luck and his life, the pianist rushed back. Fuck you, Octavia, and everything you stand for. I can’t have two suicides on my shoulders now. Neon was enough - and Neon was actually the paragon of all that was good and right in the world, while Octavia…

“Please stay. Please,” she begged him a few minutes later, as he stood fuming in the middle of the living room. “I know I’m fucked up. I know I fucked up.” In her state, the two sounded almost indistinguishable. “But I’ll change. I swear I’ll change. I just need time. I need… I need someone to look over me.”

Change. Frederic guided the woman to the bedroom and helped her undress. But, unlike all the times in the past when he’d done this action with lust and love, he had committed it with calm humility, like a servant undressing his drunken master. Change. What do we want? We want change. When do we want it?

With a sigh, Frederic began to sing, putting his hand on the woman’s back as she lay on the bed to sleep. He sang in a tired, low voice, in a language he hadn’t heard in so long, and which he longed to hear again:

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