Their First Date

by CrackedInkWell


Part 7: A Week, Three Days, Twenty Hours, and Nineteen Minutes Later…


“How much further?” One of the unicorns in the orchestra complained. He, along with the rest of Canterlot Philharmonic had been following Maestro and his son for the last several blocks. They carried the strings, drums, brass, and other instruments through Canterlot’s poorer neighborhoods. Every so often, they took a few minutes to rest, and to make sure no one stole the priceless instruments.

Octave looked again at a scrap of paper he held in a hoof, checking the address written upon it for the umpteenth time. “We’re on the right street. And going by the numbers, it should be somewhere around here. In fact, I think we’re almost-” Suddenly, the cellist looked up at a number plate on the front wall of one of the apartment buildings. “Stop!” he called out, “This is the place.”

With a collective sigh of relief, the orchestra put down their cases on the sidewalk, and take a moment to rest from carrying the heavy cases. Some of them who’d carried the lighter instruments had already begun to take theirs out of their cases; checking to see if their respective horns, flutes, and violins were tuned for playing.

“Hey, Maestro?” A pegasus, carrying a double bass called out. “Remind us again - why are we out here with the whole orchestra again?”

“Because,” the older stallion said. “I’m doing this for my son. He asked me a favor to ask a certain somepony to a Prom. And please, don’t gripe; all of you are getting some extra pay for doing just one song.”

“So you’re saying,” a unicorn from the clarinet section inquired, “That we’re dragged out here to that your son could serenade somepony to a dance?”

“Pretty much,” Octave nodded.

The unicorn nodded, “Heh, I admit, that’s kinda charming actually. Who’s the lucky mare?”

Octave paused for a moment, he looked over to his father, but all he got was a blank stare. “You’ll find out,” he said, turning to the apartment complex. He walked up the stoop to the panel that had a list of addresses and buzzers. After looking for the right address, he pushed the button a few times, until finally, a voice came through the tiny speaker.

“Yes? Who is it?” it was a mare’s voice.

“This is Octave,” he said. “Can you send down Record for me? I wish to see him for a moment.”

“Oh sure, just stay right there.” About a minute or so later, the door opened up to the white unicorn.

“Octie?” Record asked, completely confused. “What are ya doing here for?”

“Good evening, Record,” Octave nodded, “I’ve come to ask you a few things.”

“Well, shoot.”

“Have you made any arrangements to go to the Junior Prom?”

Record shook his head, “Not really…” he craned his neck over to a tuning army of musicians. “Say, dude, what’s with the orchestra?”

“I’ve prepared a special… surprise for you.” Octave sat down on the stoop, and Record stepped out of the doorway and joined the cellist. The DJ looked to the orchestra, the musicians crammed onto the thin stretch of sidewalk, some of them with some level of confusion, while the faces of others held amusement.

“What’s all this for?” he asked.

“Record,” Octave said, his cheeks turning pink. “A few weeks ago, you told me about the very first piece of music that you ever listened to, right?”

“Yeah, how could I forget?” Record nodded, “I told ya that Dad used to put on a song called ‘Smile.’ Why?”

Octave turned to his father, “Dad if you please?” Maestro nodded, lifting both of his forelegs into the air. When the orchestra was at attention, he began to lead them into the song. Even though the orchestra was playing in a very confined space, the buildings around them acted to magnify the sound, almost in the same way as a concert hall.

Almost immediately, Record’s ears perked up, “Is this…?” he turned to Octave, a sly grin on his muzzle. “They’re playing ‘Smile’?”

“Indeed they are,” Octave answered. “I’ve pulled a few strings just to make this happen for you.”

“This? All of this… is for me? Why?”

“Well, I was thinking,” Octave turned to face his friend. “Since you’ve been so awfully kind to me, I was wondering if you want to…”

“Yeah?”

“Would you be interested to go to the… Junior Prom with me? That is if you haven’t found somepony to go already.”

“Well, no, I haven’t…” He looked back to the orchestra, taking a moment to listen to that familiar melody. “But I don’t think I got anything better to do ‘til then.”

“Oh, thank you,” Octave beamed. “Yet, that’s not quite the real question I wanted to ask of you.” Record turned to the cellist in mild confusion, so the Earth Pony clarified: “Record, after the events of this previous week, I have a confession to make.” He took in a deep breath, “You see… Record… Would it be possible that I have the privilege of calling you my special somepony?”

Record went silent. He took off his shades to look at Octave, his eyes glinting like rubies in the light shining from the setting sun. “So what you’re saying,” he said, “Is that you’ve gone through all this trouble of bringing a whole orchestra into my neighborhood, not only to ask me out to some dance but to ask me if you and I could be in a relationship?” Octave saw from the unicorn, a smile, not his signature cocky smile, but a genuine one. The cellist even saw tears forming in his friend’s eyes. “I mean, wow, dude. Nopony has ever done anything even close to this before. I’d never thought you would do all of this for me.”

“I would do anything I have to, so I could see you as happy as you are now.” Octave replied back.

Wiping the tears from his eyes, Record said, “Yes.”

Octave blinked, “To what?”

The DJ laughed, “What do ya think, numb-nuts?” He reached forward, hugging the cellist. “I’m saying yes ta you.”

“Record… Thank you,” Octave said, hugging him back, “Thank you for everything.”

“Although, I’d need to figure out how to top all of this,” Record joked.

“I don’t believe you’d need to,” the cellist said with a smile.