//------------------------------// // Part 1: Five o'clock // Story: Their First Date // by CrackedInkWell //------------------------------// “Octave!” his father called out, making the young stallion cut off in the middle of a note on his cello. Octave looked up from his music sheet in annoyance to hear his father call out again. “Octave, come here, we have a surprise for you!” “Coming,” he called back. Looking over to the clock on the nightstand, he saw that it was almost five o’clock. The young stallion wondered what his parents could possibly want from him right now. With a frustrated sigh, the gray pony laid his cello on the bed and rested the bow across his music stand. For being in his junior year of high school, Octave Melody was used to having a tight schedule, which mainly consisted of studying, practicing, eating dinner, with some recreation. He never really liked any surprises that threatened to interrupt the usual flow of his mechanical day. With a frown, he trotted down the stairs to find not only his father, Maestro, but his mother Clover, and his little sister Opal sitting in the family room with smiles on their faces. “What is it?” Octave asked dryly, “You all know that I don’t like being interrupted when I practice.” His mother got up; the green unicorn with a golden mane went over to put a hoof on her son’s back. “Octave,” she said in her lilting accent of old Iresteed. “We have a very special surprise for ye.” Her son raised an eyebrow, “I already heard that. So... what is it?” “Well, yer father and I have been thinkin’,” his mother said, her sly smile not diminishing. “You’re sixteen and in high school, but we've noticed how at this point in yer life how much ya always stays at home.” “So what’s wrong with that?” “Octave,” his father said, getting up. The gray Trottingham earth pony walked up to face his son, and said, “You've been doing nothing but sitting around in your room studying, or playing that cello of yours. You don’t hang out with your friends, or even go to any of the school clubs or dances, much less anything outside of school. Son, we’re getting worried about you being this anti-social.” “I’m not anti-social,” Octave protested, “I do have some friends at school you know.” “But how often have you gone to other ponies’ homes?” his mother questioned. “All ya’ve been doin’ lately is stayin’ in your room.” “Which is why,” his father grinned playfully, “that is going to change.” “What are you two saying?” Octave asked. Before either his parents could answer, the doorbell rang, the shrill ding-dong echoing throughout the house. While his parents urged him to get the door, Octave couldn't help but wonder why his little sister was giggling like mad. ‘What is going on here?’ the young cellist thought, ‘Also, why do they want me to get the door? They’re perfectly capable.’ Octave reached a hoof for the doorknob and opened it. “Yes, can I-” Octave’s greeting was cut short by a very familiar voice. “Hey, Octie!” he blinked, right before the cellist was his best friend, with his usual cocky smile, and his purple shades obscuring his eyes. He was also wearing the usual black saddle bag that he constantly carried to and from school. “Record?” Octave asked in confusion. “What are you doing here?” The white unicorn tilted his head. “What do ya mean? Aren't you ready to go?” “Go where?” “On our date, duh,” Octave’s heart stopped when he heard those words. His eyes widened in fear. “W-What?” he asked, his voice beginning to shake. “Our date, aren't you ready?” his best friend replied. When the cellist didn't give him an answer, Record waved a hoof in front of his friend’s face, “Hey, you alright there?” Slam! Octave shut the door and leaned back against it, breathing heavily. Did he just hear that right? No, he couldn't have, there’s no way that Record of all ponies would- “Uh, Oct?” he heard Record’s muffled voice as his friend knocked on the door. “Octie? You alright, dude?” Taking a deep breath, Octave cracked open the door to see his friend’s worried face. “Hey brony, what’s wrong?” Record asked. “Did,” Octave looked up and down the familiar Canterlot street to make sure that nopony was in listening distance. He even scanned over the tiny front lawn to see if anyone other than Record was there. “Did you just say-” the cellist lowered his voice, “a date?” “Well, yeah,” Record shrugged. “That’s what I’m here for, your parents said to come by at five, so I’m here.” “My… parents…?” the unicorn noticed that the gray cellist was beginning to sweat. Suddenly, Octave’s eyes glinted sharper than the blade of a sword, “Record, is this your idea of a joke? If it is, it isn't funny!” “Wha? No, dude, I’m being dead serious here.” The door swung open, and Octave couldn’t help but jump at the unexpected noise. He turned to see that his mother was standing in the entryway. She smiled warmly, “Record Scratch, we’re glad you've come. Would you like to come in for a wee bit?” “Sure Miss… uh, Luck, wasn't it?” Record asked. “It’s Clover,” she corrected him; “Lucky Clover is my name. Please do come in, dearie.” “M-Mom?” Octave’s mind couldn't comprehend what was going on. “Hmm?” “Uh, w-what’s going on?” he looked to his mother with confusion and uncertainty in his eyes. “Dearie,” she said, putting a hoof over his withers. “I’d think this might be a good time fer us to have a wee talk.” Clover gave her son a reassuring smile, but it did little to help calm the cellist’s nerves. She led the two colts into the family room and sat them down on the couch. “I suppose you’re wondering what’s going on, son,” Maestro asked, to which his son nodded. “Well then, let us get straight to the point. Octave, we already know that you’re gay.” “WHAT!?!” the cellist screamed out in horror. “Octave,” Clover frowned at him. “What did we say aboot no screamin’ in the house?” “I… I-I-I…” Octave couldn't have felt any more exposed than he was at that very moment. Questions arose in his head faster than popcorn popping on a hot stove. Suddenly, he felt a pair of forelegs being wrapped around his neck; he looked down to find that they belonged to Record. Turing to the unicorn, the cellist saw that his friend had already put his shades up to hang on his horn, revealing those ruby eyes. “Dude, calm down,” Record told him. “Everything is alright; nopony’s gonna hurt ya.” Octave felt his nervousness lessen significantly in his best friend’s embrace. At the same time, it brought about an odd sense of peace to him, along with the feeling of warmth in his cheeks. He looked around to the rest of his family, he didn't see disgust, nor anger on the faces of any of them. “Octave,” his little sister said. “You don’t have to be afraid anymore. You’re still my big brother, even if you do like colts.” “But… H-How did any of you know?” he asked when his best friend let go of him. “I never told anypony.” “Truth be told,” his father began, “your mother and I did have our suspicions. But it wasn't until Opal,” he gestured to his younger child, “read your journal that any of us found out what you’d had to say about your friend here.” “She did what?!” Octave exclaimed, “When?!” “Remember when I got grounded a few weeks ago?” Opal asked and his brother nodded. “Well, back when our elementary school got the day off, I got bored and sneaked into your room. I found your journal on the bookshelf, which is a stupid place to put it if you ask me, and I read what you thought of Record.” At this point, Octave’s face turned as red as his best friend’s irises. He bowed his head and covered his face with his hooves in embarrassment. “Then what?” he muttered. “I showed it to mom,” Opal said, “She read it and grounded me, but not before she showed it to dad.” ‘Oh dear, sweet Solaris, just kill me now!’ Octave thought, now feeling more embarrassed in his entire life. “Is that all?” he asked. “Well, ta be honest,” his mother said. “Part of me was surprised, while most of meself was rather disappointed in ya. Only it ain't fer the reason yer thinkin’ of.” The young cellist peered up from his hooves with a questioning look in his eyes. “Octave, dearie, did ya really think we would kick ya out fer bein’ yerself? Don’t ya trust yer own family? We’d never think aboot doing that to ye. You’ve got a heart of solid gold, and ya deserve some happiness too.” Octave began to tear up at his mother’s words. “You… You really mean that?” “Of course we do,” his father nodded. “You know, we ought to have seen this coming since you two have been this close since elementary school. Besides, times are changing after all, and all we want from you, regardless who you end up with, mare or stallion, we want to see that you have a shot at something that gives you pure joy.” Octave didn't say anything, he pounced on the three of them, trying to hug them all at once. “Thank you,” he murmured. “Thank you all so much.” “Ah… hello?” Record said, trying to get Octave’s attention despite the smile on his own face. “Should I give you guys a moment, or…?” “No, no, it’s fine,” the cellist said returning to his seat. “But it does bring up something,” he added while wiping the tears from his eyes. “You’re fine with this? I mean, with me being secretly gay and…” Record chuckled, “Nah brony. If anything, I’m flattered that you’d like me. I guess it just goes to show then.” “Goes to show what?” the cellist asked with a raised eyebrow. “That I’m good-looking enough to have a guy fall head over hooves for me without me even trying,” he said with a grin. Octave facehoofed, but not without blushing a little. “How am I supposed to respond to that?” he thought out loud. Record laughed, “Come on, your family doesn't mind and I don’t really mind all that much, so... how about it? You wanna go out with me?” Opal giggled and began singing: “Record and Octave, sitting in a-” “Opal, be quiet,” her other brother ordered his cheeks still red. “So then,” Clover said, her horn lighting up, and giving her son a bag full of bits. “Now we’ve gotten that out of the way,” she then lifted the two young stallions off the couch and walked them to the front door. “Jus’ remember a few things: Be safe, don’t wander off too far, and above all - have fun, dears.” When Octave and Record were outside, Clover lowered them to the ground and closed the door. “M-Mom wait!” Octave called out before he heard the “clicks” of the door being locked. The cellists tried jiggling the door handle, knocked on the door and even asked his family to open the door, all with no luck. “I can’t believe it!” he said, sitting on the curb after admitting defeat. “They locked me out.” “Come on, Octie, look on the bright side,” Record said, sitting next to him. “At least you’ll be going out with me.” “Y-Yeah. Besides, Record, I didn't think you’d… well…” Record gave a confused look before realizing what he’s being asked, “Oh! Oh that,” he said, his cheeks turning pink. “Yeah, I know, I’m the guy who’s trying to get a marefriend thing. Well, when your parents told me that you’d like me… I don’t know…” “Record, do you mind if I ask you a very personal question?” “Yeah, go ahead.” “Are you… I-I mean, do you even think that you might be… attracted to colts too?” “Ya know, I haven’t been given much thought.” Record admitted, “But when I heard your parents said that you’re gay and all that stuff, suddenly, everything made sense. I mean, you did tell me once that you’d think that nopony would ever go out with ya.” Octave nodded, “Yeah, I remember.” “I just felt sorry for ya, you know? I mean, even with my taste in music, at least you gave your friendship a try with me. So… I thought, ‘Why would I not give you a chance as well?’” “Have you ever dated a stallion before?” “Mares, you already know that. Stallions? It’s my first time doing something like this.” “Same here. I don’t even know what to do on dates.” “Dude, it’s not that hard. Dating is really just a glorified version of hanging out. You don’t have ta act anything out, just be you. Just think of it as you hanging out with me, but you can be more... open about it.” Octave looked at Record right in the eye, “Record, are you sure you want to do something like this, with me?” The unicorn nodded, “Yeah. Dating my best friend... why not? Besides, I don’t want ya to be miserable, I just want ya to be happy.” The two of them sat there for a moment until the cellist broke the silence. “Well then… I feel like having some pizza, you?” “Yeah, pizza sounds good.” “I know a place that’s not too far from here. It’s cheap, but they serve some good slices.” “Well then,” Record said, grinning, “lead the way.”