//------------------------------// // Sunday // Story: Ç ® υ § Η Ξ Ð // by shortskirtsandexplosions //------------------------------// And on the seventh day, the Lord created phlegm... lots of it. Nobody knew this better than Vinyl. She lay curled up on the living room couch, dressed in a bulky nightshirt, drowning in three or four wrinkled blankets washed over from several pastel years of forsaken childhood. A mound of used tissues lay on the coffee table, spilling over into a plastic wastebasket situated on the carpet floor. Normally, she would have been listening to techno music. However, the lithium batteries in three separate music players had all died—such was the testament to her overnight restlessness. So she let the things lie dormant beside an empty vomit tray as she coughed and sputtered away with her bleary eyes plastered to a wide-screen t.v. She was into the second hour of Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. How come I'm always watching this film when I'm sick as a dog? I pick the weirdest friggin' traditions... Around this time, the doorbell rang... or perhaps she imagined it. Half of her head was clogged up like a defective pressure cooker. Every breath sent cactus needles up and down her throat. She felt like sobbing. Eons later, she detected the tell-tale shuffle of her mother's feet entering the room. "Vinyl? Hey there, Sparky. There's a friend of yours here to see you. From school." Vinyl sniffled, then struggled to get up. Who? Lauren? "I do hope I'm not imposing," spoke a soft, velvety voice. "No no no... she's actually doing much better today. I just advise keeping some distance. We've yet to take her to the doctor's, but there's no telling if what she's got is infectious." Vinyl blinked and blinked. She craned her neck to look around... and her eyes widened. Octavia stood demurely in the foyer, dressed delicately as ever in her blouse, skirt, and vest. She curtsied at Vinyl's mom... then turned to look at Vinyl herself. A smile blossomed, and Vinyl could almost smell the fragrance beyond all the snot. "Hello, love." "...!!!" Vinyl shot up—blankets flying. She winced, yanking the comforters back over her dizzied figure. Idiot! Friggin' idiot! You're not even wearing any pants right now! Vinyl slumped back into the sofa, coughing breathily. Her crusty eyes teared as she produced a nervous grin. "Awwww... you poor thing." Octavia preserved her delicate smile, quietly girl-stepping around the coffee table and the battle-strewn floor of water glasses and half-empty cough syrup bottles. "It's positively dreadful seeing you like this... most undeservedly so." Holyyyyy crabshells. Am I imagining this? Is this another fever dream? Grimacing, Vinyl threw a look across the room. Standing behind Octavia, Vinyl's mother took one glance at the smokey-hair'd visitor, then back at her daughter. She raised an eyebrow, smirked, and slowly shuffled out of the room. Vinyl gulped—this time flat-out ignoring the soreness. "In truth... erhm..." Octavia cleared her throat, standing in front of John Rhys Davies as he punched a Nazi in the face. "...I feel terribly responsible for this mess. Really, I do." Sad eyes danced in between them—a subdued violet. It made Vinyl feel twice as nauseous. "None of this would have happened to you if you... erm... h-hadn't been so wonderfully chivalrous two days ago." Vinyl blinked. She looked aside... and merely shrugged. "You... don't talk much... do you?" Vinyl opened her mouth—but fell into a coughing fit. She waved a hand while bringing a glass of water to her lips. "Eheh..." Octavia brushed her bangs back, avoiding direct line of sight for some... reason. "It's quite alright. I'm certain your throat has seen better days. Please... don't stress yourself out on my account." Clearing her throat, she brought the other hand out from behind her back. "Anyways, I felt it was only right that I make true to my promises—well... one of them, at least." Vinyl's eyes traveled down the musical bombshell's slender arms. She saw an umbrella being held out to her. With trembling fingers, she reached out and took it. "I figured you... uhm... probably won't be showing up tomorrow morning for school." Octavia chewed on her bottom lip. "I... hope you don't mind if I keep the math notes to... study a little bit longer. I know it's asking for a lot." Vinyl smiled tiredly... offering yet another shrug. "Somehow... uh... I figured that you wouldn't mind at all..." "...?" Vinyl blinked at that. Absent-mindedly, her eyes fell to the umbrella in her grasp. That's when her sickly skin paled all the more. Inside the folds of the umbrella... there was a faded yellow sheet of paper. It was a receipt... stained with rainwater... nearly ripped to tatters—but very much still in the same place where she had left it. No... not where I left it. Placed back where I had left it. Deliberately. Oh gods... did... did she...? With trembling fingers, Vinyl reached in... then pulled the sheet out. Her unmistakable handwriting had run slightly from the moisture... but she could still make out the $20 price she had paid the other day. "It... was a very... very nice gesture," Octavia breathed. Vinyl's teeth clenched. Is... is she talking about the umbrella...? Nervously, Vinyl turned the note over, examining the other side. Soon, she found her answer. There was something new on the sheet—something that hadn't dissolved in the rain. It was a delicate "heart" surrounding the "From: Anonymous"... and it was drawn in a distinctive violet ink. Velvety soft violet. "We could... all use more nice things in our lives..." Somebody purred. A pair of cheeks turned rosy, and they weren't Vinyl's. "...even it it means... erm... making t-time in our schedule." Soft fingers brushed smoky bangs back. Then—and only then—did her eyes connect, and they were twinkling. Vinyl held her breath, frozen to the couch cushions. Don't snort. Don't vomit. Don't snort. Don't vomit. "Your eyes," Octavia murmured, her voice adorably tender and dry. She tilted her head cutely to the side. "They are remarkably... astonishingly red." Vinyl chewed on her bottom lip, nodding slightly. Guilty as charged. "That is... quite striking." Octavia braved another smile. "Such a shame that we don't see them more often. Almost... almost feels like they're hidden. Why would anyone ever want to keep such a beautiful thing obscured?" Vinyl exhaled with a shudder. Her eyes were wet, but not because of the bug. Yeah... beats the Hell out of me . Silence. "You... erm... you like music?" Octavia grinned a bit more bravely. "That is... are you a musician?" Vinyl waved her hand from side to side. "Well... uhm... I think that's absolutely smashing!" She tipped back and forth on the toes of her Mary Janes. "I've been working on a fresh new instrumental of my own. I... uhm..." She suddenly rushed out of the room... then came stumbling back with a cello case that she had left in the foyer—unbeknownst to Vinyl. "I've been practicing around the clock... and I think I've almost got it perfected. I... have no earthly idea if it's even remotely akin to the genre you're used to absorbing yourself in... but perhaps I could have a go... and you'd tell me what you thought of it?" Ohgoshhhhhhhhhhhhhh Vinyl sneezed violently. She sneezed again, just as hard. Grimacing past the dizziness, she gave a shivering thumb's up. "Oh! Oh g-good!" Octavia pumped the bowstring in her hand, emitting a breathy giggle. Like butterflies with bells on. She composed herself just in time... to compose. "This is called 'Melody Suite No. 5'... although... I'm contemplating a name change. What do you think of 'White Carnations?'" Vinyl let loose a half-whimper... followed by a quarter-whimper. I think I want to marry you. "Hmmm..." Octavia closed her eyes, resting the bow-string to the cello. "...I suppose it would be good and proper to give it a listen first." Vinyl wasn't about to argue. And as the delicious bass strings dripped through the room, she closed her eyes with a contented smile. At some point, a single nostril cleared, and she imagined flowers. The thought cuddled her to sleep—along with the music—so that she pondered if perhaps it was all a dream. But when morning came, and Vinyl's mother could be heard calling in to the school administration's office in the other room, Vinyl reached across the table and gently lifted a faded yellow receipt to her tired eyes... ...and the violet heart was still there.