“It seems like it’s only growing hotter by the night!” Octavia exclaimed, breathing heavily, wondering how the hell the temperature could be so high with the sun already down.

“You’re telling me!” Vinyl huffed back as the two women made their way towards the club downtown. “Say thanks to me that my room is air-conditioned!”

“Thanks!” Octavia replied earnestly, taking a side step to avoid colliding with a busy woman dragging her child by the hand up the street. Wish the whole flat was air-conditioned... “But you kinda spent the whole day - and the previous night - with your head on me, and that’s pretty hot.”

“Of course it’s hot,” Vinyl agreed. “We should have had sex too, that would have been hotter.”

“You know what I meant!” Octavia blushed - even though she realised that Vinyl’s influence on her had been positive: she had become more open and less… reserved? Probably that, because why else on earth was she going to the club with her childhood friend?

Vinyl laughed merrily, putting her hand on Octavia’s shoulder. Feeling sweat on her palm and realising her mistake, she withdrew immediately. “Come on, Octavia. We’re just messing around here, but you do know you are my best friend, right?”

The question put Octavia is a state of stupor. She had come to the realisation that Vinyl was still her best friend, she loved her - as a friend - and she wanted to be with her - as a friend - but when it had been voiced like this…”Of course, Vinyl,” she said, putting all the seriousness and devotion she could muster into her voice. “So are you. Best friends forever?” She extended her little finger.

Vinyl quickly caught it with hers and shook in a sweet, long-forgotten childish gesture. “Best friends forever.”

Octavia immediately felt like giggling - so she giggled. She also felt like dancing a little dance on her toes - so she danced a little dance on her toes. What’s more, she felt like sharing something with her best friend - and so she did. “You know, when we were in bed under the fan, the sound of the fan sounded like heavy metal to me.” Octavia frowned, her smile vanishing in the night. “You know, it was like, I could hear the guitars and the vocals and the drums.”

Vinyl stopped and, in a very suspicious voice, asked, trying to be as soft as possible, “Did you take your pills?”

Octavia sighed and waved her hand in the air. “Never mind.” The fire grew redder and redder…

“Best friends forever.”

The two women proceeded in the direction of the club, leaving Octavia to wonder just how routinely she was using her powers, and whether it was high time to stop. But then again, it didn’t seem like she was given those powers to save lives, to save Manehattan, or to fight super-villains. It seemed to her that she was given those powers just to save Vinyl from that truck - and the powers just decided to stay. But for how long? “Vinyl.” Octavia tugged at her friend’s arm. “I… You do realise my powers may not last forever?”

Vinyl stopped again and pierced Octavia’s corporate veil with her eyes. “Tavi, do you expect me to say ‘but we will last forever’? Because you know this already.” Seeing the blush on Octavia’s cheeks - or maybe it was just the heat? - she laughed and pointed at the building up ahead, shining with neon light. “Come on, we’re almost at the club.”

“Hello, Octavia!” a familiar male voice sounded from the side.

Following its direction with her eyes, Octavia saw, to her deepest surprise, Mr Catcher, in a white linen suit, walking from the direction where the two women were headed. “Mr Catcher!” the cellist exclaimed, taking a small step aside from her friend. “What a surprise!”

The older man merely waved his hand in the air dismissively. “Oh, you know, just keeping in tune with the times, trying to figure out what music young people listen to nowadays. Say,” he carried on with a smile, “who is the lovely lady accompanying you?”

“Oh!” Octavia extended her hand towards Vinyl. “That’s my-”

“Girlfriend,” Vinyl immediately supplied, leaning in and grabbing Octavia by the waist, leaving the cellist speechless and a little open-mouthed. “We’ve only been dating for a short time, but we try to have sex every twelve hours. Keeping it up, you know?” The DJ grinned.

“Of course.” Mr Catcher smiled radiantly, as if he hadn’t heard. Most certainly, Octavia assumed, he just didn’t care. “See you girls later! Have fun at the club!”

How did he know we’re going to the club? Octavia mused as Vinyl let go of her waist and quickly sauntered off to the side street, leaving the raven-haired woman to follow in dismay. Swiftly, she understood, as the neon lights of the building hit her in the eyes. Still, there was something to marvel at, granted, but there was still an issue to address.

Octavia grabbed her friend by the hand, effectively rooting Vinyl in place. The DJ didn’t look back, just standing there. “Vinyl, what was that all about?” Was that… wishful thinking? Hell, would that be wishful thinking on my side if I said that?..

“Just a joke!” Vinyl turned round quickly, with a grin on her face that, to Octavia, seemed a little fake. “You know, just joking around. Words spoken in jest.”

“Words spoken in jest,” Octavia remarked as they neared the neon-clad building, not very tall, but wide enough to host hundreds of people, “bear tides of truth.”

Vinyl shrugged. “But are still spoken in jest. Come on.”

Octavia wanted to argue, but, upon seeing (and, well, hearing) an argument breaking down in front of the neon-lit gates (Seriously? Who puts neon above the doors?) of the club, decided that two arguments at once would be way too explosive, especially in such heat.

“And I told you, you can’t go in in shorts,” the bouncer, a huge gorilla of a man in a black suit - how hot he must be! - but not sweating, as if sweat-of-the-brow was a concept entirely foreign to him, kept reprimanding a girl in shorts and top, the kind of slutty clothes Octavia disapproved of greatly, but would not mind putting on, especially with Vinyl around. Angel Octavia blinked in awe: What. Devil Octavia threw her fist in the air: Yes! We have a contact!

“Come on, Eddie,” Vinyl chimed in, materialising between the jock and the girl. “Let her in. You gotta admit, she looks so freaking sexy in those shorts.” As the bouncer stepped aside with a grunt, the spinner turned her attention towards the young brunette, who was gratefully passing through the wide-open doors. “Say, beauty, if you’re up for, you know, spinning some discs after the club, call for Vinyl Scratch.”

“So one minute you’re my girlfriend, and the next minute you’re making moves on other women?” Octavia asked half-jokingly, still feeling an unpleasant pang inside. A pang of… jealousy?

“I’m straight, just so you know,” the girl replied with a grin. “And I would never steal your girlfriend from you.”

“Maybe a threesome?” Vinyl suggested with an even wider grin. “After all, I just got you into my club.”

Nobody’s asking me! Octavia thought in irritation, and decided to speak out, but was, once again, interrupted, this time by a young man with a wild, fashionable haircut, and generally sehr modisch in his light blue suit.

“It’s my club, Scratch,” the man remarked as he approached. “I own the club. I own the record label. I own you.” He pointed his long, slender finger at Vinyl, whose grin had faded. “You just spin the disks. And you aren’t spinning disks here tonight.”

Without bothering to hear Vinyl’s side of the story, he grabbed the brunette girl by the shoulders and, whispering something seductive in her ear, led her into the club. The bouncer stood guard once again, unsure whether to let Vinyl in or not.

Not that Vinyl seemed to want to enter anyway. “Sometimes I just wanna break his face in,” the blue-haired woman hissed. “Wait. We actually can do that, right? I can do that, and you’ll just rewind?”

“Who’s that?” Octavia asked, instead of spiralling into yet another musing on her newfound powers. “He… doesn’t seem very nice,” she explained lamely, looking away with a blush. Since when am I choosing my wording when talking to Vincenza- erm, Vinyl?

Suddenly, the cellist realised that, indeed, this was Vinyl. This wasn’t Vincenza Staccato, and the times when she had been Vincenza Staccato would never come back. But she had a chance to mend fences, to know this Vinyl better… Just how much ‘better’ are we talking here? Angel Octavia wondered sternly. Devil Octavia replied, Of course, we’re talking the ‘gonna get into bed with her’ better.

“That’s Nigel,” Vinyl replied with a sigh uncharacteristic for her. “Or, as he likes to go by, Neon Lights. A stupid name, really.” Octavia didn’t remark about the smartness and well-thoughtness of the name “Vinyl Scratch”. “He is all right, but tries to make my life a living hell from time to time.” She chuckled suddenly. “Younger brothers are like that, driving you crazy with all they got.”

Octavia’s jaw must have hit the ground, but she didn’t hear the satisfying crunch. She worked the said jaw a little, just to see if it was still able to fit in place. “What.”

“Dad…” Vinyl lifted her hand and rubbed her eyelids, then took a step aside to let the new batch of club-goers in. Octavia followed suit. “He kinda… Had another family at the side when I was… One thing or another, I’ve recently found out I have a younger brother. Who runs a record label. And this club. And seems to love and hate me both, for some reason.”

Octavia just stood there, rooted to the place, wondering how to comfort her friend, who seemed way too dismayed to go to the club. Kiss her kiss her kiss her! Devil Octavia chanted with a grin. Kiss her… softly? Angel Octavia agreed.

Octavia had almost given in to those suggestions, but, stepping close to the spinner, was met with a friendly hug, an awkward one, especially considering what she, in her heat-induced dismay, had been about to do. “Vinyl…” she said almost breathlessly. “You’re sweaty.” Not what I meant to say!

To her surprise, the blue-haired woman just laughed and let go of the flustered cellist. “You’re right. It’s hella hot. We need to find something cold to drink. Cider?” she suggested with a grin.

Octavia nodded with a tiny smile. “Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

***

“The ripe, flagrant aftertaste of this cider-” Vinyl began, swirling the glass in her hand, but was interrupted by Octavia’s loud giggles. “Shush, you. As I was saying, the ripe, flagrant aftertaste…”

“Vinyl, do you even know what ‘flagrant’ means?” the cellist managed to let out through the tears of laughter. Of course she does! Angel Octavia assured. Is it a synonym for something kinky? Devil Octavia wondered from her shoulder.

“Well!” Vinyl lifted her finger and pointed it accusingly at the bartender. “Why did he give us cider in wine glasses then?” She waited for an answer, but the bartender merely cleaned the glasses - the proper beer glasses - with an old, dirty piece of cloth, like many bartenders do to kill time.

Devoid of other customers, the bar seemed isolated and more than a little alien. But Octavia didn’t care, here was Vinyl in front of her, her best friend, very close to her, and she was feeling… gratitude? Compassion? L-

“Are you going to pay today or tomorrow?”

Brought out of her semi-drunken contemplation, Octavia glared at the barman, whose dispassionate remark had ruined her trail of thought. The cellist had almost got up from her seat when Vinyl stood up quickly, fishing out her card in advance. “I’ll pay for her,” the spinner slurred, approaching the bar counter, “because she’s my girlfriend and she will pay me back in sex.”

Octavia opened her mouth to protest, but swiftly realised that she didn’t want to protest. In fact, something warm and fuzzy filled her stomach at the thought of being Vinyl’s girlfriend. Or, perhaps, this was just the cider speaking. Oh, seriously? Devil Octavia facepalmed fiercely.

“Yes, I’d like a taxi now, please.”

Octavia opened her eyes, wondering when she had managed to close them. It had been seconds, no? But here Vinyl was, not at the bar counter, but next to her at the table, calling for a taxi on her phone.

“Thank you.” Vinyl laid her hand on Octavia’s, sending a bolt of electricity through the cellist’s whole body. “Shall we go outside, dear? The taxi is due in a few minutes.”

Octavia didn’t even respond. She just got up, led by the blue-haired woman, her tan hand in the spinner’s white hand, following Vinyl’s lead, breathing in the pale air of late night - which did not offer any retreat from the growing heat.

Vinyl let go of her friend’s hand and reached for the cigarettes. Octavia felt a little violated at that gesture. “So, do I no longer satisfy you as a girlfriend, Vinyl, that you let go of my hand?” the cellist wondered jokingly, even though deep inside she knew she shouldn’t do that.

Except, she had a little blue flame that could reverse any mistake she was about to make.

Vinyl, lit cigarette in hand, struggled to keep her mouth from falling agape. “T-tavi, that was a joke. I mean-”

There was no need for the little blue flame, even, because the next moment a car emerged from behind the corner, running at top speed, and stopped abruptly in front of the two women. The window rolled down and a grinning old woman looked at the two friends, who were still shocked by the driving manner. “Ladies, your chariot has arrived.”

***

The car rushed through the city streets as if it were gliding across the wide forest path - or, rather, an elongated mountain road, swishing through the traffic, making Octavia marvel at how proficient the driver was. That’s ‘cause she drives manual, Devil Octavia said from her shoulder knowingly. Automatic is more convenient in traffic, Angel Octavia retorted. Octavia groaned innerly. Just kiss already, you two. “Can we go slower?” she said aloud instead. “We aren’t in a rush.”

“Sure you’re not,” the woman at the wheel replied, making a sharp turn onto the roundabout without looking at her left, “but I am. You gals will just go kiss each other to sleep or whatever you young people do nowadays, I frankly don’t care, but I gotta pick up my husband from the gym.”

Vinyl raised her brow - which looked very funny, considering that, in her drunken state, she had to commit to several attempts. “Your husband is a jock?”

“Barely.” The driver laughed. “He just goes there for the shower. We’re not exactly rich, but the gym management lets him use the shower after hours.” Another sharp turn almost made Octavia vomit. Not on me! Devil Octavia cried. Angel Octavia sighed. We’re imaginary beings, remember?

“Can’t he…” Vinyl hiccuped. “Can’t he, you know, return on his own?” She waved her hand in the air in a no-don’t-get-me-wrong fashion. “I mean, not that males aren’t as able as us women, which they aren’t, but-”

“Oh no.” The woman laughed the same little laugh that seemed at the same time distant and hearty, as if she was distancing herself from the world, but allowing the world a little peek into her life. “He’s blind, my husband. Can’t get on his own.”

Vinyl fell silent.

The silence continued until the car stopped before Vinyl’s block of flats, in the same rough, abrupt manner it had stopped when it had first arrived to pick up the women.

“That’ll be twenty-four fifty.” The driver grinned. “Whoever of you tops, please pay up.”

Wordlessly, laughlessly, Vinyl gave her a banknote.

“Sorry, hun.” The driver frowned. “Can’t split a fifty.”

“You don’t need to.” Vinyl gulped, then smiled earnestly. “Please keep it all.” Before the taxi driver could object, she practically grabbed Octavia and led her out of the car, no discussion allowed. “Come on, I need a drink at home,” she addressed a very surprised Octavia.

The taxi driver watched in awe as the two women stumbled their way towards the apartment block, then laughed and shook her head and disappeared into the hot, unyielding night.

***

“You ever had this feeling? When you are afraid at night and you lean up to the wall and start talking to someone, but not, like, talking, but mentally having a conversation?” Vinyl slurred and yawned, running her hand through Octavia’s hair mindlessly. “Well, I talked to you. Just wanted you to know.”

Octavia remained silent. The furies in her head were calming down, despite her not taking evening pills in fear of them colliding with alcohol. She couldn’t say she was exactly wasted, but drunk enough to just lie there in Vinyl’s bed, listening to Vinyl’s rambling, enjoying Vinyl’s ministrations. Enjoying her company, Angel Octavia nodded. Trying to get in her pants, you mean, Devil Octavia suggested. Angel Octavia took out a shotgun.

“But I was talking about art, right?” Vinyl shifted, making Octavia vaguely uncomfortable, the cellist’s head in Vinyl’s armpit. “Art becomes less elitarian, if you get what I mean. Everyone is suddenly a photographer, what with the phone cameras, everyone is a writer - you ever read what is being published nowadays?, everyone’s a musician - they think writing music is just about pressing buttons in FL Studio…”

“Don’t you use FL Studio?” Octavia wondered innocently.

“That’s the difference, Tavi. I use FL Studio.”

Octavia fell silent. Life was indeed very strange. She lifted her hand and watched the tiny blue flame that she didn’t allow to grow. It just lingered there, providing weird coolness in the extraordinary summer heat. The little flame disappeared and Octavia sighed, burying her head deeper in Vinyl’s armpit. It smelt of sweat, but it was a pleasant odour to her, somehow; she nuzzled the woman playfully and almost smiled when she felt Vinyl’s body tremble - and heard sobs.

The sobs grew louder and louder, until Vinyl broke into tears, collapsing on Octavia - the cellist quickly sat up, propping up the DJ - soaking her T-shirt with salty tears, breathing into her skin through the fabric. Uneasy, Octavia began to stroke Vinyl’s back, her inebriated mind trying to come to an understand with why she was crying. “Vinyl, are you crying because of that driver’s husband?”

“Just hold me, Tavi,” came the muffled reply. “Hold me.”

And so she did. She held her and stroked her back and hummed softly.

“Can I ask you to do something?” Vinyl’s voice reached her ears.

“Sure.” Octavia stopped with her ministrations, lifting her head up to meet Vinyl’s marvellous magenta eyes.

“Kiss me.” Vinyl said almost breathlessly, leaning in slowly and slightly, her lips entering Octavia’s safe distance.

“W-what?” Octavia didn’t lean back, didn’t let go. Her mind went blank, and her body froze in the solid heat of the room.

“Is it hard to understand?” Vinyl smiled through tears. “I like you.”

The DJ leant in, dragging Octavia in a sloppy drunken kiss, while her hand was wrapped around the cellist’s body, her other hand caressing the back of Octavia’s head. Without breaking the kiss, Vinyl pressed the weight of her body against her friend’s, pushing Octavia to the bed and pinning her there.

Octavia felt a surge of wild emotions rushing through her head: ecstasy, delight, surprise, but, most of all, fear. Fear that their friendship would forever be broken. Fear that something would change, way too much. Fear that she wouldn’t be able to…

She didn’t even mean to reverse. The hand just spun out automatically, and the little blue fire in it grew redder and redder-

“Can I ask you to do something?”

Octavia held Vinyl in her hands, stroking her back, while her mind was frozen in fear. The fear of what was about to come. The fear of what, essentially, had come already - but was reversed, mercilessly, automatically. “C-can it wait till tomorrow?” Octavia faked a yawn. “Vinyl, I, I really want to help, but I think it’s better if you just cry it out in my arms and we’ll talk tomorrow.”

For a while, Vinyl fell silent. Then the sobs continued - and, within the sobbing, there were three nods, first unsure, then pondering, then confident. Octavia sighed in relief.

As Vinyl fell asleep in her arms, Octavia realised that she had never felt this terrible about herself, ever in her life.