> Who Am I?
>  by Zeck
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> I Ain't Vinyl
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Vinyl Scratch sat with her chin on the bar, staring at the drink in front of her, but not seeing it.  The vibrations of the tunes assaulted her body, but she didn’t feel the music. Her ears noticed the clamor from the club around her, but she didn’t hear any of it. Her tongue recognized the familiar cocktail of cider, alcohol, and countless other mixes in the air, but she didn’t taste any of it.  Her nose sent familiar signals to her brain that registered them as sweat, sex, drinks, and every other scent that came with clubs, but she didn’t smell any of it.
She was, for lack of a better term, a complete and utter wreck. Her hooves dangled off the seat and kicked lightly in the air as she continued to stare at the drink. She had ordered it over an hour ago, but all it had done in that entire time was sit in the same place. The blue liquid stared back at her, its vibrant color matching the mare’s mane. She focused and gripped the glass with her magic, pulling it to her lips. All the familiar smells wafted into her nose, but she couldn’t bring herself to raise her chin off the bar and take a drink. Sighing, she released the glass and continued to stare at it.
She pulled her phone out for the…sixteenth time? Thirty-fifth time? Oh Celestia, she had lost count. It hovered before her eyes as she scrolled through her contacts until she found the one she was looking for. For a long time, she simply gazed at the name on the screen.
Octavia.
Vinyl almost hit the call button, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. It wouldn’t do any good anyway. For a brief moment, she debated whether or not she should send a text, but she knew that wouldn’t do any better. If Octavia wasn’t going to answer a phone call, there was no way she’d reply to a text. Vinyl could write a hoof-written letter in the fanciest writing—penmanship was what Octavia called it—known in Equestria. It could put even the royal sisters to shame with its sheer beauty and awesomeness, and Octavia would probably still ignore it. 
Vinyl had screwed up royally, Canterlot-level royally, and no matter how many times she tried to make it right, she knew it wouldn’t be enough.
She considered hitting the delete button. Octavia certainly didn’t want to talk to her anymore. The fact that she hadn’t responded to any of Vinyl’s texts and had hung up on every phone call proved that. Maybe it would just be better if Vinyl moved on. Octavia clearly had.
You can’t do that, a voice in her head said. Vinyl felt a tear run down her cheek as her magic hovered over the delete button. No, she couldn’t. Octavia was too important to her, and no matter how bad she had screwed up, she couldn’t see her life without Octavia. She’d find some way to make it up to her, but how?
She’d already tried everything she could think of. She’d gone to the concert, but security hadn’t let her in. When she’d tried to force her way in, the police had been called. Vinyl had been ‘escorted’ off of the property and told that, if she came back, things would get worse. She’d tried calling Octavia when her concert was over, but the mare hadn’t answered.  No, it was worse than that. She had answered. She had ignored Vinyl’s call. The DJ knew that Octavia’s phone rang five times before the recording picked up. That always gave her enough time to answer it if she was near. Since it had only rung twice, it meant that Octavia had seen Vinyl’s number and hit the ignore option.
Vinyl had tried for two weeks to contact Octavia. She had called every day. She had sent texts nearly every hour. She had even gone to Octavia’s house, only to find her own belongings out on the front step. Her extra pair of sunglasses, her turntable, a few records, and the scarf Octavia had made her for her birthday. They had all been neatly arranged on Octavia’s doorstep with a note attached.
'These are yours. I know they are important to you, unlike me, so I kept them inside until I saw you coming. I did not want to damage them. Good-bye.'
Unlike me…Those words would haunt Vinyl for the rest of her life.  That note had been the only contact she had had with Octavia in three weeks. The cellist hadn’t responded to any of her texts, hadn’t called her back, hadn’t even answered the door when Vinyl had pounded on it for ten minutes, begging her to open it.
Vinyl could feel the dam in her mind starting to break with that thought. “Don’t cry. Don’t you dare cry. If anypony sees you…” She closed her eyes and sniffled, wiping one of her hooves across her eyes. That broke what little control she had left.
Vinyl buried her face in her hooves and sobbed.  Her tears came in short, fierce bursts and her breathing became little gasps of air. She tried to stop, tried to keep the noises quiet, but it just made her cry harder. It didn’t matter really, not with the club music. It was so loud that no pony would be able to hear her cries, and her quivering body could just as easily be mistaken for a pony who had had too much to drink at the bar and was trying to shake it off.
“You okay, dude?”
Vinyl didn’t raise her head.  She sniffled and mumbled something that she hoped resembled a yes.
“You sure?” Vinyl raised her head enough to let one of her red eyes poke out from behind her hoof. Who was this annoying pony that wouldn’t let her be miserable in peace?
The bartender was standing in front of her, polishing a glass with his magic while he glared at her. His expression didn’t exactly scream sympathy. He was probably upset because all Vinyl had done for the past…Celestia, what time was it? She looked at the nearest clock. Two hours. She had sat at the bar for two hours, paid for one drink that she hadn’t even touched, and the bartender was probably worried that she was killing the mood for other customers.
Vinyl blinked and scrubbed away her tears. “Yeah,” she said with a cracked voice. She raised her head, trying to sound more confident. “I’m good. Sorry. Uh…look, I gotta go.” She pulled out enough bits to cover two drinks, put her sunglasses on while wishing she had remembered them ten seconds earlier when the crying had started, and pushed herself away from the bar.
Her hooves felt extremely heavy, as if she were wearing some fancy designer horseshoes that were all the rage in Canterlot at the moment. The rest of her body felt completely numb as she trudged through the crowd to get to the door. Ponies bumped into her constantly and she simply let the flow of the crowd push her toward the door. Sometimes a stallion or mare would try to start dancing with her, but Vinyl only continued forward, staring at the ground while she headed for the exit.
After what seemed like a lifetime, she finally found herself standing at the door. She opened it and stepped out into the night air.  It stung her face for a brief moment, but she barely registered it. She wondered about taking off her sunglasses, but decided against it. She didn’t want anypony to see her eyes. They were redder than normal, and the last thing she wanted to deal with was some stranger pretending to care about her problems. Besides, she had walked home from this club drunk so many times that she was certain she could make it home with her glasses on in the dark.
The night wasn’t freezing, but it wasn’t exactly pleasant either. A chill wind blew through the air, tearing at Vinyl’s tail. She felt her electric blue mane whip against her head and she lowered her muzzle, trying to keep the wind out of her eyes. It stung her cheeks even more and her mind went to the scarf Octavia had left out when she had removed all of Vinyl’s stuff. It had been a birthday present from Octavia, and one that Vinyl had worn every time it was cold—and sometimes even when it wasn’t cold.  It was so soft and warm, with a beautiful mix of grey and blue flowing through it. On one end of it was Octavia’s treble clef, sown in black thread, while at the other end was Vinyl’s own musical note, sown in violet. 
She had left the scarf at Octavia’s home one night because…she couldn’t even remember now. All she knew was that she had been thrilled at the idea of having another excuse to go visit Octavia. “Oh hey, Octy. I forgot my scarf at your place. Can I stop by and grab it?”Not that she had needed any more excuses on her list to visit the cellist. She knew Octavia was wise to her little game, but the mare had still played along.
Vinyl wished she had the scarf now. She wished Octavia was walking beside her, wrapped in her own scarf, folded in the perfectly elegant way that she always managed to obtain, even in wind. She wished the cellist was walking close to her, huddled for warmth as the two of them talked about music, what they could play together, ponies they had met during the day, gigs—Octavia called them performances, she reminded herself—that they had coming up, or just nothing at all.
“Stop it!” Vinyl said to herself, furiously blinking back the tears that were welling in her eyes again and stinging her face in the wind. She wasn’t sure what she wanted to stop. Stop the crying, or the pain, or the loneliness, or just how every single thing that crossed her mind always ended up on Octavia.
“Just…just stop it,” she whispered, even though none of those things stopped. The plea only made them intensify. She was left alone as she walked down the streets of Manehattan, her hooves echoing off the silent road. Each step rang down the empty street and echoed in her mind. 
Alone. Alone. Alone…
Vinyl nearly jumped out of her white coat when her mane started vibrating. For a moment she couldn’t understand what was happening, but then she felt her heart soar.  Her phone was ringing! Well, vibrating really, but still! It was Octavia! It had to be! No pony else would be calling her this late! Okay, that wasn’t true. Tons of ponies called her this late, and even later, but Vinyl didn’t want to let the feeling of hope fade away.  She could barely focus her magic enough to grip her phone because she was so excited. A million thoughts ran through her mind as she pulled the device from her mane. 
Okay, don’t blow this, Vinyl! You’re sorry. She knows that. But that’s not enough. You hurt her real bad, and words aren’t gonna cut it this time. Whatever she wants, whatever she says, you do it. No questions, no whining, no excuses. It’s done. If she says you can’t do another gig for a whole year, then you suck it up. You find another way to pay your bills. If she wants you to come to every single concert of hers, you go, even if they bore the hay out of you. If…
Her mind continued to race as she pushed the answer button without looking at the name on the screen.
“Octy! Boy, I’m glad you called! Look, I’m really sorry and I swear, promise, blood oath, Pinkie Pie—”
“Uh, whoa there Miss Scratch,” came the voice from the other end of her phone. Vinyl felt her heart shatter and her feeling of hope was utterly flattened. She pulled the phone away from her ear and checked the number. It was from her apartment complex.
“Oh…hello,” she said, all signs of joy vanishing from her voice, “uh…Steve, right?” The only reason Vinyl remembered his name was because it was so odd. Steve. What did that say about a pony? Nothing. It was so…plain. 
“That’s right. Hey, listen. I’ve got a pony here that wants to talk to you, but she won’t do it over the phone. Says it would be rude. I told her it was rather rude to call you this late,” he said a bit louder, as if he was talking to somepony else, “but she was rather insistent. Said it was important. And that, knowing you, you were probably still up anyway.” 
Vinyl’s ears perked up slightly. Octavia had her own phone, but if she was still pissed at Vinyl—and Vinyl knew she was—then she probably didn’t want the DJ hiding behind a phone when she chewed her out. Maybe she had come down to Vinyl’s apartment to talk in pony. Octavia was like that. She preferred to do important things face to face.
“Uh…okay.” Vinyl gulped, hope once again daring to return to her being. “Hey…this pony. Is she...pretty?”
“I believe so.” The voice on the other end went down to a whisper. “Very much so.”
Yes! “Okay. And…and does she seem a bit…stand offish? Like hard to approach? Maybe even a bit prudish?” Another ounce of hope found its way into Vinyl’s chest.
“She does carry herself with an air of…elegance, I suppose. Head held a bit higher than a normal pony living in Manehattan.”
“Would you say that she might be from…” Vinyl held her breath for a moment, “Canterlot?”
“Well, if I had to guess, I’d say so.” Steve was silent for a moment, then coughed. “Anyway, back to the reason I called. When do you think you’re going to be getting home? I know it’s none of my business, but she was very…pushy that I call you, and I don’t want to throw her out on the street if you’re not going to be back for a while. Besides, I doubt she’d leave even if I tried.”
Vinyl's heart jumped. It slammed against her ribs and she could barely stop herself from yelling. Octavia was at her place! She was finally willing to at least see Vinyl, and Vinyl was going to do her absolute best to get Octavia to forgive her too. 
“Yeah, listen. Tell her I’ll be home in just a few minutes. Thanks, Steve.” Vinyl went to end the call, but stopped. “Oh, and you can go ahead and let her into my place. It’s alright. Tell her I’ll be right there!” With that, Vinyl ended the call and broke into a gallop down the street. 
Five minutes later, Vinyl tore into the front lobby of the apartment complex. A rather tired-looking Steve was hunched over the counter. He looked up and offered a small smile. “Sooner than I expected.”
“Did you let her in?” Vinyl asked between gasps.
“Yeah, she’s waiting in your room. Which she said you really should clean.” Vinyl smiled. Of course Octavia would say that! She was so posh that seeing Vinyl’s disaster zone of a room always caused the pony to go slightly nutty. She would get the funniest crinkle in her nose and her eyes would squint up. It was why they practiced at Octavia’s place so often, despite the fact that Vinyl loved seeing her make that face. 
“Thanks,” Vinyl said as she turned to leave.
“Yeah, you’re welcome. Look, I’m going to bed, so don’t—”
Vinyl was out the lobby door and dashing to her apartment before Steve finished his sentence. She trotted up to her door, a smile tugging at her cheeks so much that it was starting to hurt, and knocked once before pushing the door open.
“Tavi!” Vinyl said, blushing slightly as she realized which nickname she had just used. Octavia had said Vinyl could only call her that on very specific occasions. “Oh boy, you don’t know how glad…I…am…” She stopped in mid sentence and stared, dumbfounded, at the sight before her as she set her sunglasses on the side table by the door. If putting her glasses down hadn’t been a force of habit, she probably would have been completely motionless.
Her living room had been cleaned!And not just Vinyl’s version of cleaning, like moving one pile of stuff to another area, but clean cleaned. Her records had been stacked knife-edge style near her living room turntable. The turntable itself was no longer serving as a makeshift rack for some of Vinyl’s clothing, and it appeared to have been dusted to boot. Her clothes had been folded nicely and left on her couch, or at least the clean ones anyway. The dirty ones had been dropped in a rarely used laundry basket in the corner.
There was no sign of any of the dishes that usually littered her living room, and the magazines that she used as coasters had all been stacked neatly at the center of her coffee table. A single glass filled with water sat in the middle of the table and had a rose bobbing in it. If Vinyl had been drunk when she walked in the door, she would have seriously wondered if she had entered the wrong apartment.
“Uh, Octy, you here?” she asked carefully. Octavia often chastised her about her living conditions, but Vinyl had never known the cellist to dive in and go crazy with cleaning. If she wanted Vinyl to clean, she usually just hid something important to Vinyl and didn’t give it back until she cleaned up.
“Oh, Miss Scratch, good evening.”
Vinyl froze. That wasn’t Octavia’s voice. That was—
Just as Vinyl’s brain began to process the voice and match it to the pony it belonged to, a white unicorn stepped out of the kitchen. She carried herself the same amount of grace as Octavia, maybe even more so. Her coat was a startlingly bright white, and even though Vinyl’s was the same color, she couldn’t help but feel that they were made of different stuff. Her purple mane flowed from her head and along her neck in beautiful swirls. It seemed to draw Vinyl’s eyes to the horn on her forehead, which was polished to a near blinding white. Her eyelashes were long and elegant, and they fluttered when she blinked her dazzling blue eyes. The unicorn smiled as she began admiring her work in the room and the radiant light from her expression was enough to almost banish the dark hopelessness that was quickly filling Vinyl again.
No, this pony certainly wasn’t Octavia, although Vinyl could understand how Steve could make such a mistake.
Wait. Did I ever ask him what color her coat was? Vinyl smacked her face with her hoof. You’re an idiot, Vinyl. Idiot, idiot, IDIOT!
“I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of straightening up your…uh, living quarters,” Rarity said as she looked around the room. “Not bad if I do say so myself. Especially given the limited time I had to work. I thought your place looked a little, uh, dull, so I added the rose on the table. I was just starting to clean the kitchen when…oh my.” Rarity stopped as her eyes returned to Vinyl. 
“Hi Rarity,” Vinyl said, depression dripping from her voice like blood from a wound. She walked over to her now-visible couch and slumped down on her stomach. For once, her face didn’t get smudged against a musty shirt or an old piece of pizza. Thank Celestia for small mercies she supposed.
“Sweetie, don’t take this the wrong way, but you look…well…” Rarity trailed off, trying to find the right word.
“Useless?” Vinyl offered as she buried her muzzle in the couch cushions. “A horrible pony? The worst pony to ever walk Equestria? Garbage? A terrible mare?”
“I was going to say tired,” Rarity said quickly. 
“I guess,” Vinyl said. Octavia hadn’t come over. She still wanted nothing to do with the DJ. Vinyl could feel the tears welling up again and she buried her face even further into the cushions. She wasn’t about to let Rarity see her cry. The last thing she needed was for somepony like Rarity to see her so broken. She had to get rid of the unicorn before she completely broke down.
“Yeah, I’m really tired. Look, I know it’s a long trip from Ponyville, and you’re welcome to crash in my room if you didn’t make reservations anywhere, but can we talk later?”
Vinyl heard hoofsteps on her carpet and for a moment she thought the unicorn was actually going to leave. Vinyl was surprised when she realized she didn’t want that to happen. She wanted Rarity to stay, though she didn’t know why. Maybe she was just tired of being alone.
A hoof brushed Vinyl’s mane. She tensed, but didn’t look up from the cushions. 
“First of all Miss Scratch, while I appreciate your offer, I have already made arrangements at the finest hotel in Manehattan. It has a spa, a buffet, a swimming pool, and most importantly, is right across the street from the nearest dress designer stores.”
Vinyl felt weight on the other end of the couch. Part of her was happy that Rarity wasn’t leaving, but she was still worried about breaking down in front of the unicorn. This was one of the ponies who had defeated Nightmare Moon, and Discord, and even played a part in saving Celestia and all of Canterlot from the changelings and their queen. Vinyl didn’t want to appear weak in front of such an important pony.
“And second, the last time I ignored a friend who was so clearly upset, things didn’t turn out so well. Ponyville was almost destroyed and Princess Celestia had to get involved.”
“I doubt my problem is that big. Uh, I mean, what makes you think I’m in trouble? I’m just tired, like I said.”
Rarity’s voice took on a tone of superiority. “Miss Scratch, fashion is my passion, as a friend of mine says. As such, I’m familiar with all my friends’ looks, and your look right now is not your own. You are usually so full of life, eyes sparkling behind those glasses of yours, coat shimmering in the different club lights, mane wild and alive. But now, your eyes are puffy and bloodshot, your coat dull and scruffy, and your beautiful mane is withered and flat.”
“I just came back from the bar. What do you expect after a heavy night of drinking?” Vinyl said, trying to sound defensive. She wasn’t sure if Rarity had complimented her or just insulted her.
“True, and I would believe that, if you smelled like a strong night of drinking. Which you don’t.” Rarity’s voice became gentle and she lowered it to a whisper. “There was also your face when you saw that it was me who was in your room. I take it you were hoping it was somepony else?”
Vinyl buried her face even further and put her hooves on top of her head. “Yes,” she mumbled through the cushions.
“Vinyl, dear, you’re shaking. Are you crying?” 
Vinyl’s eyes sprung open and she realized that tears had been seeping from the edges of her eyes, despite her best efforts to stop them. No, she wasn’t going to cry. She wasn’t going to cry. She wasn’t going—
“Yes,” Vinyl said. The tears, as they had done earlier that night, began to come in rivers. She sobbed into the cushion, her body shaking uncontrollably with each new wave of anguish that passed through it. She hated herself for crying in front of Rarity. Hated herself for hurting Octavia. Hated herself for simply being herself. 
She felt Rarity’s hoof stroke her mane and neck again. Rarity didn’t say anything and Vinyl continued to cry into her couch. She was broken, and she could no longer hold back the pain that that one fact brought. She cried until her eyes hurt. She howled quietly into the couch cushion as her heart screamed in her chest. Her mind wanted to shut down as memories of Octavia raced through it, tearing at every raw nerve. Her body felt hollow, yet she felt like the weight inside her was going to crush her bones. Her soul felt fractured and shattered, and all she could do about it was pull the couch cushion more into her face and cry harder.
All the while, Rarity simply sat on the couch, silently stroking Vinyl’s blue mane and occasionally patting the DJ’s head. 
Finally, when she felt like she couldn’t cry any more tears, Vinyl fell silent and stayed still, quietly drowning in her agony.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Rarity asked at last. Vinyl mumbled something, but didn’t lift her head. “Darling, I’m here for you, but it’s rather difficult to understand you when your face is buried in the decor.”
Reluctantly, Vinyl pulled her head out of the cushion and sat up, but she refused to look at Rarity. Her face was probably even more of mess now, and the fact that she wasn’t wearing her glasses made it even worse. She didn’t like being seen without her glasses to begin with, and now that she had spent so much time over the past few hours balling her eyes out, she was certain her appearance was halfway close to how she felt. 
“That’s better. Now, tell me what happened.” Rarity put a hoof on Vinyl’s shoulder and waited.
Vinyl took a deep breath. She wasn’t going to cry. Not this time.  She wasn’t sure she had any tears left anyway. She felt exhausted. “I…I screwed up. I screwed up real bad, Rarity. You know Octavia?”
“That lovely cellist? I can’t say that I know her personally, but we’ve met on occasion. She seems very nice. Very prim and proper. I’ve often dreamed about designing a dress for her. Oh, a pony with such elegance…why, she’d be a star! And that new song of hers that just came out is simply smashing!” Rarity blinked, and she seemed to bring herself back to reality. “Are you two friends? Surprising, but then I’m friends with a pony who puts the earth in earth pony. Oh! Do you think you could ask her to stop by my shop sometime? I know I can come up with the perfect dress for her. It would be...” She continued talking, but Vinyl had stopped listening.
That song. Vinyl had heard it on several different occasions now, and ponies everywhere were talking about it. Every time she heard it, her body ached.
“Rarity, that song is about me,” Vinyl whispered, snapping Rarity out of a fantasy that involved being recognized all across Equestria.
“Nonsense dear. That song is—” Rarity stopped and Vinyl looked up at her. Her eyes had gone wide as realization dawned on her. “Oh.”
“Well, I don’t think it was originally about me, but it may as well be now,” Vinyl said, lowering her face again. “I…I blew off Octavia’s concert. I completely forgot about it. This one was really important to her, and when she called to remind me, I tried to weasel out of it. She…she said she never wanted to see me again.”
“Come now,” Rarity said, patting Vinyl’s shoulder. “Surely she didn’t say that.” 
“She may as well have. I tried to get to the concert, but security wouldn’t let me in. I’ve tried calling her, texting her, and even going over to her home. She hasn’t spoken to me in over three weeks.”
“Oh my. That…does sound rather serious.”
Vinyl nodded to the turntable that Rarity had cleaned off. “You see that? That’s a present from Octavia. She bought it for me so we could practice together at her place. I have my own in my room, but I used to have to drag it over to her place. It was a real pain in the flank, but it was worth it. Until she bought me that one and made me promise to leave it at her place. She really hates playing at my place because it’s always such a mess.”
“Hm, yeah, I could see that,” Rarity said. 
“She had it waiting for me on her front porch when I came over.” Vinyl sank her face into her hooves. “She hates me.”
Vinyl felt Rarity’s foreleg slide over her shoulders and pull her into a hug. “I highly doubt she hates you, Vinyl. She’s just upset with you.” Rarity paused for a moment and looked around the room. “Very upset.”
“What’s the difference?” Vinyl asked as she gave in to despair yet again.
“The difference, Vinyl, is that your…music thing, is still in one piece. The difference is she cared enough to return it to you, and didn’t simply throw it out. The difference is that you can still make it up to her.”
“How? I’ve tried everything. She won’t even speak to me.”
Rarity gently pushed Vinyl out of the hug and made her raise her head so the ponies were looking eye to eye. “Then it’s time for some other pony to try something. You get some sleep, and we’ll talk more in the morning.” Rarity stood and headed for the door, leaving a baffled Vinyl sitting on the couch.
“Wait,” Vinyl said before Rarity reached the door. “Why did you come here? It’s not like you knew about me ruining my entire life because of my stupidity.”
“Oh, that’s right, I completely forgot.” Rarity turned and faced Vinyl. “I have been in town since yesterday, shopping for materials. I’m hosting another fashion show in Ponyville in a few days, and I needed some supplies. And then inspiration struck! You were there for my first, uh…show,” Rarity’s cheeks glowed red for a moment, but she continued, “and you were there for the wedding, and when my friends threw me that lovely celebration party a while back. Even if I did miss most of it. So, I was going to ask you if you would be so kind as to provide you D.J. talents again.”
Vinyl smiled weakly. “I’d love to Rarity, but I don’t think I’d be up for it. Look at me.”
“Oh, I agree completely,” Rarity said with a wave of her hoof. What? “I’ll have to find somepony else. But you’re still coming to Ponyville with me tomorrow.”
“What?!” Vinyl said, unable to keep the thought silent a second time.
“You heard me. You need a change of scenery, and I’m certain you can still help me with my fashion show.”
Vinyl’s mind was reeling and her mouth was having trouble forming words. “Look, Rarity, I don’t think—”
“Nonsense. I won’t take no for an answer. Now, I’ll be by bright and early tomorrow to collect you. We’re going to have to leave extra early if I’m going to have enough time. It’s a pity I won’t get to spend more time at the spa, but I can always come back some other time. Now, what am I going…” Rarity stopped as her eyes fell on the scarf that was hanging on the rack behind Vinyl’s door. “Ooooh. This is lovely. Where did you get it?”
“Uh, Octavia gave it to me. As a birthday present. She made it herself. Hoofmade and everything. It’s…it’s my favorite.” 
A smile crept across Rarity’s face. “Perfect,” she whispered, then turned her head back toward Vinyl. “Now, make sure you get plenty of sleep. Like I said, bright and early tomorrow. Good night.”
And with that, the unicorn was out the door and gone. Vinyl’s mouth hung open for a long moment after that, her brain trying to process what had just happened. 
“Guess I’m going to Ponyville tomorrow,” she said. She picked herself up off the couch and walked down the hall to her bedroom. She flopped on her bed, for once not thinking about Octavia, but instead about what Rarity had meant when she had said that Vinyl would still be able to help with the fashion show. 
I only play music at her gigs. What else could I possibly help with…?
	
> I Am Not Octavia
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Octavia Melody stood perfectly erect. Her poise was rigid, her form impeccable. Years of standing on her hind legs made her stance seem natural, when it was anything but. Any pony that saw her would have no doubt that she knew exactly what she was doing. She was a mare that radiated perfection from every molecule of her being. Ponies who witnessed her on the street would catch themselves staring in awe for a few moments. Those that heard her create music were always captured by feelings that they had never known existed within themselves.
But something was wrong with her. Octavia played her cello perfectly as always. The music sang in the air, but her ears remained deaf to its beauty. The bow and cello rested in her hooves, but they did not feel like an extension of her being. The faint smell of redwood from her instrument filled her nostrils, but it failed to tickle her nose. She saw the notes on the sheet of paper in front of her, but her eyes could not see the beautiful music they formed. 
“Octavia?” The voice sounded far away. It was faint, hushed by an eternity of distance that existed only in her mind. She continued playing, her hooves and body going through the motions that they knew so well, yet now felt alien to her. What was wrong with her? Why did everything seem so…dim? So quiet?
“Octavia,” the voice said again, slightly louder this time. It still sounded so far away, as if a sailor was calling from shore out to her on the open ocean.  The deep ocean, with its lapping waves and blending hues of blue, coming together to form something vast and great…
“Octavia!”
A hoof reached out and shook her. Octavia jumped and dropped her bow. She struggled to keep her cello upright as she blinked her amethyst eyes rapidly. Where was she? How long had she been here? And where had she gone before she had been here?
She looked down to see who was gently shaking her. 
“Welcome back,” said Beauty Brass with a smile. “We thought we had lost you for a moment there.”
“Oh.” Octavia felt a strong coloring flood her cheeks for a moment. That was right. She was practicing with her ensemble. They didn’t have any gigs—Performances, Octavia corrected herself—coming up, but they still enjoyed playing together. And it was always a good practice to maintain her talents, even if they were not needed for the foreseeable future.
“I…apologize,” she said, picking up her bow from the floor. “I was lost in the…in the moment.”
“You were lost all right,” said Fredric as he swung around from his piano, “though I doubt it was, as you said, ‘in the moment.’”
Octavia blinked once and stared at him, confused about his statement. “Excuse me?”
“Octavia, we stopped playing three minutes ago. The moment was long since over,” said Harpo. Octavia turned to look at the harpist. He was right. Harpo was already standing and had his harp placed snugly in his carrying case. That act alone took him two minutes. Celestia, had she really continued playing after the others had finished? What in Equestria was wrong—
“What is bothering you, dear?” Beauty asked, finally taking her hoof off of Octavia. Octavia stared at her. Her coat looked…wrong somehow. The thought was completely absurd, naturally. The musician looked the same as she always did. Her brown mane was perfectly combed, her purple eyes had the same gleam they always did, and her coat was just as shiny as it always was.
Her coat. Octavia stared at it. That was what was wrong. Her coat was the wrong color. That is even more absurd, Octavia thought. Beauty’s coat was the same color it always was. It looked like a soft blue, not quite as blue as a clear sky, but not so soft that it began to look aqua.  So why did Octavia think her coat should be a different blue?  
Yes, her coat should be a fierce blue, with raging emotions that words could not begin to capture…
“Nothing is bothering me,” Octavia said, dragging herself back to reality. “I merely have a lot on my mind.”
Fredric smiled. “I can imagine. That song of yours has made you rather famous. Number one on all the lists.”
“You helped, Fredric,” Harpo said.
“Well naturally,” Fredric said as he tapped himself on the chest, “but Octavia stole the show. It’s her amazing singing that everypony is talking about, not my piano playing.”
Octavia felt emotion bubble up inside of her, but it was not pride or satisfaction.
“Indeed,” Beauty said. “I had no idea you had such a beautiful singing voice. And the passion! Your words were filled with emotion. Your face had such a refined look to it, but your eyes looked as if they were screaming in pain. Wherever did you learn to sing like that, channeling emotion so well? I honestly believed your heart was tearing in two.”
Octavia felt the emotion creep closer to the surface, to the point where she could feel her face heating up. To cover for herself, she began putting her cello away in its case, making sure her back was to her friends. 
“It seems Miss Melody truly is perfect at everything,” Harpo said. “It will not be long before she becomes so famous that she forgets about the rest of us.”
“Nonsense!” Fredric said. “Octavia is too good of a friend to do that. She’d never—”
“I apologize, but I really need to get going,” Octavia said. She strapped her cello’s case to her side and stood so quickly that she nearly lost her balance. “Also, I…I do not believe I will be able to make the next session.”
Without waiting for a reply or turning to look at her friends, the ash colored mare moved for the exit. She opened the door and stepped out into the night air. 
The wind stung her cheeks, but she refused to acknowledge it. She trotted down the street at a brisk pace, trying to maintain her natural grace but finding it impossible to do so. She turned a corner and then finally brought her hoof up to her eyes.
“Stop crying,” she said as she rubbed her face. “You have no reason to cry. And if anypony sees you, imagine the embarrassment. You are currently the most talked about musician in all of Manehattan, and quite possibly Equestria. The scandal this would cause would be enormous.”
Does any of that matter though? asked a voice inside her head.  
“Of course it does!” Octavia said furiously as another tear ran down her cheek. She stomped her hoof on the sidewalk as she felt the liquid fall from her face. This was her dream! She loved her music, and her dream was to share her music with every pony in Equestria. 
But not the most important pony?
“Be quiet!” Octavia hissed to herself. “She brought it on herself. She only ever made time for me when it was convenient for her! She never thought about me!” 
You know that is not true.
“I…I…” Octavia fell silent. She no longer wished to continue arguing with the voice in her head. That was what mentally unstable ponies did, and she was most certainly not that.  She continued to walk home in silence. 
A soft tune began to play in the air. Octavia recognized it as a rendition of one of her favorite songs and, thankful for the distraction, she began to hum along with it. She closed her eyes and allowed her head to sway gently with the tune, following the notes as they rose and fell. It was one of the first pieces she had learned to play on her cello, and it would always hold a special place in her heart because of that. Her favorite part was coming up. Soon, the string instrument would begin climbing into a glorious—
The tune suddenly reset, going back to the beginning and playing again. Octavia opened her eyes and blinked. That was not right. What pony would ruin such a beautiful piece of music by cutting off the best part? That was something Vinyl liked to do whenever she… 
Octavia looked around for the offender, wanting to understand why somepony would do such a thing, when her brain suddenly placed where the sound was coming from. Sighing, she reached behind her neck and pulled her phone from her mane. A trick Vinyl had taught her. One of many.
For a brief moment, Octavia considered hanging up. She did not want to talk to anypony, and she certainly did not wish to speak with Vinyl. And yet, she found she could not put the phone away. She had not heard from Vinyl in over a week now. It was not that she wanted to hear from the pony, but she was growing…concerned. Maybe she should stop by the D.J.’s apartment, just to make sure she had not done anything rash. 
Octavia’s phone played the tune a third time and she hit the answer button without thinking. She raised the phone to her head and spoke first. She was in no mood to hear Vinyl’s pleading, and the best way to stop it was to start before the D.J. had a chance to speak.
“Vinyl, I told you before, we are—”
“Vinyl? What?”
Octavia flinched and pulled the phone away from her ear. She glanced at the number, something she had completely forgotten to do before answering, and felt…something. She was unsure what it was. Relief, disappointment, frustration, and…sadness? That could not be right.
Octavia put the phone back up to her ear. “Hello, Lyra. May I help you?”
“Are you going to let me in, or am I going to have to stand out here and freeze to death? I’ve been knocking for five minutes.”
“First of all, it is not that cold. Second, you are covered in fur, just like every other pony, and none of them are in danger of—”
“Octavia, you’re doing it again,” Lyra said flatly.
The cellist felt a warm glow come to her cheeks, and it was almost enough to banish the stinging cold. “I apologize. Anyway, I am currently not at home, so I am afraid I cannot let you in.”
Lyra groaned. “But your band friends—”
“Ensemble.”
“Octavia.”
“Apologies. You were saying?”
“They said you had left and were on your way home. That was nearly twenty minutes ago. How in Equestria did I beat you home?”
Octavia tilted her head to the side. “I…have no idea. I have had a lot on my mind it seems. I suppose I was lost in thought.”
“Yeah, B.B. said as much. Any chance you’ll be home in the next few minutes? It really is cold out here, and I’d rather not wait another hour while you search for the meaning of life.”
“Very funny,” Octavia replied. Lyra was simply being her typical, easy-going self, but right now her attitude was starting to irritate Octavia. The worst part about it was that she could not figure out why the mint green unicorn’s attitude was getting to her. The last time Lyra had truly annoyed her had been all the way back in college, and that had been years ago, before they had been friends.
“There is a spare key under the fourth rock from your left. I will be home in a few moments,” Octavia said, trying to get her mind off of things that bothered her. There seemed to be a lot of them lately. 
“Nice. I’ll see you in a bit.” Without waiting for a good-bye, another of Lyra’s little quirks, the unicorn hung up and Octavia was left alone with her thoughts again. She sighed and slipped the phone back into her mane and continued walking.
She reached her home in another six minutes, and as she walked up to her front door, her mind wondered why her cello was so heavy all of a sudden.  She did not recall it weighing her down this much in the past.
She knocked a few times and called out to Lyra. The door opened on its own—Lyra’s magic, no doubt—and Octavia walked in. She unceremoniously dropped her cello off to the side and seriously considered simply walking to her room and going to sleep. She was exhausted. Yes, that had to be the reason behind everything; her distraction from practice, her exceedingly long journey home, the sudden increase in mass of her cello. It was all due to her being exceptionally worn out. Most likely from all the sudden attention she was receiving from everypony because of her new song. 
“Welcome home, Octavia!” Lyra said from the kitchen. “I hope you don’t mine, but I started a fire. I was freezing. Hot chocolate?” Sure enough, a fire was burning nicely in Octavia’s little fireplace. Its heat radiated across the room, chasing away a good deal of the cold that had followed her in through the door. 
It was also rather dangerous, she thought, that Lyra had made it so big and then left it alone. One stray spark and Octavia might very well end up shopping for new carpet, or worse.
“I swear, you are as bad as Vin—” Octavia caught herself. 
“What was that?”
“Nothing. Hot chocolate would be lovely.” Octavia walked over to her couch and sat down, folding her back hooves gently under herself while her front ones rested on the cushion. She felt the exhaustion bleed from her body and her muscles began to unwind. She had not realized how tense she was. She looked around her living room, hoping to help herself relax even more with the calming effects of familiarity.
Everything was in its place. Well, except for her cello, but she had no desire to reposition the surprisingly heavy thing from its current resting spot by the door. Her glass coffee table was free of clutter and had two coasters spaced evenly apart, with four more stacked in the middle. A few paintings, mostly of abstract concepts of music and a few lovely locations, hung on her walls, all perfectly aligned. Her music stand was off in the far corner—where her cello should have been as well—along with a single bookcase that held all her books about music, as well as her sheet music. She noticed that the carpet still had several deep indentations in it next to her practice area. She wondered how long it would take for them to go away. Seeing them bothered her, but not because they clashed with her otherwise perfectly organized home.
Octavia continued to stare at the corner. She saw Lyra exiting the kitchen out of the corner of her eye, levitating two steaming cups of hot chocolate. The unicorn came over and placed one on each coaster, and Octavia suddenly had the urge to remove Lyra’s glass and place it on another coaster.
Instead, she reached for her own glass and picked it up. She blew on it a few times and then took a small sip. The warmth flooded her body, banishing the chilly night air from the last fragments of her being. Her hooves began to tingle as the heat slowly bled into them.
“It is delicious,” she whispered as she took another sip. She looked up at the unicorn and started to smile, but stopped when she saw what Lyra was wearing on her head.
“What?” Lyra asked. She tilted her eyes up, following Octavia’s gaze, and then chuckled. “I told you I was cold. The weather in Ponyville doesn’t usually get this chilly around this time of year. Rainbow likes to— ”
“Please take it off.”
“Uh…”
“Please, Lyra.”
“Okay?” The unicorn pulled the, what was the word Vinyl had used…’beanie,’ off her head and placed it on the table. Octavia stared at it, ignoring the growing sense of heat in her hooves.
It was not the most elegant thing she had ever seen.  The stitching on the beanie was slanted and uneven in many places.  At one part in the front, the stitching looked like the rise and fall of a rapid heartbeat on a heart monitor.  The fabric was certainly not top quality, and if a pony was perspiring when she put it on, the beanie tended to itch something terrible. Indeed, even when it was brand new, it looked as if it was already falling apart. How it had lasted so many years was a mystery to even to the greatest minds in Equestria.
And then there were the colors, and the shapes those colors were supposed to make. What were supposed to be neon blue flames burning around the entire circumference of the hat looked more like sick blobs. They were sown, rather poorly, on top of purple fabric that was littered with grey and white musical notes. Only, instead of the grace and fluidity of Octavia’s treble clef, the notes looked ill. They were jagged and uneven, as if a pony had handed a baby filly on a sugar rush a marker and told it to draw shapes. 
In short, it was by far the most garish article of clothing Octavia owned. It did not match any of her other outfits, and she could never imagine herself wearing it under any circumstances. If she had seen it in a thrift shop for only one bit, she would have thought the price too high.  If somepony had offered her a million bits, but she had to wear the article of clothing at her next concert, she would have told them to keep their bits.
If it had not been hoofmade by a certain D.J. as a thank you gift for a silly little scarf, Octavia would have long since thrown the thing away. Instead, she had kept it tucked away in a drawer in her room. At least until she had started searching her home for Vinyl’s belongings. She had pulled it out, fully intending to give the dreadful thing back with everything else, but she had found that harder to do than she had anticipated. So she had left it hanging on the rack by the door.
Now, it sat in front of Octavia on her glass table and she found herself losing her soul in the rolling blue of the blobby flames. Her eyes danced across the music notes, tracing each one along their frantic paths of creation until the journey ended, then flinging to the next and repeating the process. She felt herself falling into the purple sky they decorated, her amethyst eyes losing focus as her body leaned closer…closer…
Searing pain raced through her hooves as her drink spilled and she jumped. Her cup of hot chocolate fell from her hooves and tumbled onto the table, its heated contents flowing out across the glass and dripping onto the carpet. It drew closer and closer to the hat, threatening to turn it into the rag that it so rightly was.
Without thinking, Octavia learned forward and yanked the beanie off the table before the liquid could touch it, nearly falling face first off the couch as she did. 
“Damn it,” she said. Her eyes went wide as she realized that that phrase had escaped the confines of her mind—and worse, her mouth—and she felt her cheeks burn.
“So…you going to tell me what’s bothering you?” Lyra asked after a moment. Octavia looked over at the unicorn and noticed two things. First, she was sitting in that rather odd position she favored for whatever reason. Second, and much to Octavia’s annoyance, she was wearing a smirk.
“I am simply distracted.” Octavia carefully put the beanie on the couch and rose. She walked to her kitchen, wincing a little whenever her front hooves touched the ground, and found a towel.  She placed it in her mouth and walked back out to the living room.
“I’ll take care of that.” Lyra gently tugged the towel out of Octavia’s mouth with her magic and brought it over to the table. Without moving from her awkward sitting position, the mint-green unicorn used the rag to clean up the mess. 
It must be nice being a unicorn. Being able to levitate things, like towels…or record—
“Stop it!” Octavia hissed.
“Well, okay, but I’m pretty sure it’s going to leave a stain.”
“No, I was not speaking to you.”
Lyra looked around the room in a painfully slow, exaggerated motion and then shrugged. “There’s no pony else here, Octavia. Either you’re playing host to some rather rude ghosts, or there’s something bothering you.”
“There is nothing bothering me. Why does everypony think something is bothering me?” Octavia stomped her front hoof and winced as she was reminded that it was still tender from the hot beverage.
“Hey, ghosts! It’s awfully rude to have conversations that we can’t all hear!” Lyra shouted at the walls.
“Stop it!” 
“See what I mean? I don’t know what you’re doing, but Octavia’s getting pretty—”
“That time I was speaking to you.”
Lyra simply responded with a grin and continued to clean up the hot chocolate. Octavia sighed and walked back over to the couch. She folded her legs up under her body as she sat, careful not to put too much pressure on her front hooves. It was a much more relaxing position.
“Very well, you win,” she said.
Lyra instantly twisted out of her odd sitting position and took a position like Octavia’s, taking up the rest of the couch. Her face was…uncomfortably close to Octavia’s when she turned her head. 
“I knew it!” Lyra said, her sunglow-colored eyes going wide with excitement. “What do I win?” Octavia glared at her. “Right, sorry. So…”
“I…” Octavia suddenly found that her voice had stopped functioning. There was something choking her, not just physically, but mentally too.  Words were becoming harder to form in her mind. Those that did form properly were impossible to articulate. They came out as nonsense. Squeaks, hiccups, stammers, and gasps of air. 
Only two ponies outside of Octavia’s family had ever seen the cellist cry. One of those ponies was currently sitting on her couch, staring at her with a growing look of concern. The other pony often knew how to make the tears and the sadness that brought them disappear in a moment, but was just as often the cause for them in the first place. Such as now. 
Octavia lowered her head as the tears began to trickle down her muzzle.  They did not come in rivers—she was too proper for sobbing—but they still came. She felt her black mane fall forward and she was grateful that it would block Lyra’s view of her face. 
“Octavia,” came a voice along with a hoof on her shoulder, “I can come back tomorrow if you don’t want to talk about it now.”
Octavia forced her voice to comply with her mind. “No,” she said. “No, I…I just need a moment.” She took several calming breaths and willed her tears to stop. She brushed her mane back in place with her hoof and looked up to meet Lyra’s gaze.
“There’s the famous cellist,” the unicorn said with a smile.  “So…what did Vinyl do? This time, I mean.”
Octavia blinked. “Wha…how did you…?”
“You mean besides the fact that her turntable is gone?” Octavia struggled not to look over at the empty corner. Lyra held up her front hooves and began tapping one with the other as she listed reasons. “You could not take your eyes off of that hat. You practically fell off your couch saving it from the evil chocolate milk invasion. And finally, there was our phone conversation. You thought I missed it because I was so cold, but I didn’t.”
“What do you mean?” Octavia asked, trying to hide the color that she felt in warming her face. 
“You were obviously hoping it was Vinyl when you answered. I’ve never once heard you make a mistake when you answer your phone, which means you were really, really distracted. D.J. on the brain big time.”
“I…was not hoping it was her.” Octavia’s eyes shifted away from Lyra’s face and she was suddenly wishing her mane still covered her eyes. 
“Liar.”
“I am not.”
“Octavia, we’ve known each other a long time.” Lyra pressed her forehead against Octavia’s and smiled. Octavia hated it when the unicorn invaded her personal space like this, so she tried to back up. But Lyra simply scooted after her, keeping their foreheads connected, until Octavia could not back up any further on the couch. “A very long time. You can’t fool me.”
Octavia stared into the sunglow eyes. She could feel them drilling into her, stripping away the protective layers until there was nothing left but herself. No fancy etiquette, no constantly maintained elegance, no demands for utter perfection. Just an ash-colored musician who loved the sounds she made, both alone and with her friends.
Lyra was one of Octavia's first friends. They had not gotten along too well at first. Octavia had grown up having perfection demanded of her, and Lyra’s easy-going lifestyle and her odd…quirks had been a source of annoyance for the cellist. Lyra, for her part, had told Octavia that she was a stuck up mare who did not feel music and thus could not cause others to feel it. The unicorn had said Octavia would never amount to anything in the music world beyond a simple show guest because no pony would be able to listen to her music without falling asleep.
Vinyl had walked up at that point and slammed her forehead against Lyra’s so hard that her sunglasses had cracked and fallen to the ground. 
“You take that back,” the D.J. had shouted. “I listen to her play for hours, and it’s bucking amazing! Take it back, or I bucking swear I’m going to make it so you have to learn how to play your harp with hooves!”
Octavia had been so shocked by Vinyl’s actions that her response had been an automatic defensive reflex.
“Lyre,” she had said.
“What?” both unicorns had said, turning at the same time to look at her.
“It is called a lyre, not a harp.”
And that had been the start of Octavia’s friendship with Lyra. The mint unicorn had been so shocked that somepony actually knew what her instrument was that their differences had been completely forgotten. They had spent hours talking about music together after that. What they loved to play, who their favorite musicians were, different styles they used. Octavia had been glad to find another pony who enjoyed strings as much as she did. Vinyl had been a great companion and an invaluable support, but her tastes in music had been vastly different. Up to the point where she tended to ‘zone out’ whenever Octavia talked about it. 
Lyra had enjoyed having another musician to talk to because none of her other friends played anything, and she had grown tired of constantly telling ponies, “It’s not a harp!” She had taught Octavia how to feel music, instead of just playing it for perfection, and Octavia had given Lyra lessons on how to make her playing more dignified.
Her friend had been made because of Vinyl's courage to stand up for her. 
“All thanks to Vinyl,” the cellist whispered as her mind swam with memories. Had she ever paid for Vinyl’s glasses? The fact that they had broke was her fault…
“Yes, I know that this is all thanks to Vinyl. But you still haven’t told me what she did,” Lyra said, snapping Octavia out of her memories yet again. That was happening to her more and more lately, to the point where she was growing concerned. She wondered if she needed to see a psychiatrist about these memory slips.
“She…” Octavia paused, trying to put it into words. What had Vinyl done, exactly? Missed her concert? So? Vinyl missed a lot of her concerts. She had even told Octavia, on several occasions, that while she loved listening to her play, going to her concerts—with all those stuffed shirts and rigid, fake attitudes as she put it—bored the living hay out of her. 
So why was missing this concert so important? Why could Octavia not just brush it off like she had so many other times? What had made this time the breaking point?
That was it. How many times had Vinyl said she would be there? How many times had she promised that she would not miss the next one? How many times had Octavia looked out at the audience and seen that one empty chair in an otherwise full house? How many times had she wished that all the other seats had been completely empty if it meant that that one seat would be occupied? How many times had she listened to Vinyl’s excuses with a smile on her face while her heart broke? 
“Vinyl merely decided that she has other priorities in her life, and I am not one of them.” Octavia blinked, trying to hold back the tear that was threatening to run down her cheek. She knew if she let that one escape, more would follow, and she was unsure if she could stop them this time.
“That doesn’t sound like her at all,” Lyra said with a frown. “And you know it,” she added with a whisper.
Octavia felt anger well up inside her. “Of course it does!” She stood up from the couch and stomped her hooves on the carpet. “‘Octy, I’m so sorry.’ ‘Oh boy, I completely spaced this one.’ ‘Don’t worry about it, I’ll be at the next one for sure.’ ‘Sorry, I’m busy with my friends.’ ‘It’s tonight? Shoot, I already have plans.’ ‘I totally blanked on this one.’”
She stormed back and forth across her living room as she recited each excuse that Vinyl had ever given her. Each stomp of her front hooves sent pain racing through her legs, and each shot of pain only fueled her rage.
“She is never there for me! Every time, it is always some excuse! I know she does not enjoy going to my concerts. I do not care for going to her clubs! But I still go! Because she asks me to! She wants me there, and I go because I like making her happy! The smile on her face when she looks up and sees me smiling back at her makes the constant noise and everypony bumping into me tolerable. Why is she unable to do that for me? I…I just…” 
She stopped. Her body was shaking, whether from anger or grief, she could not tell. She felt tears streaming down her face again, and this time she did not try to stop them. It felt good to finally release her emotions, to be nothing but a raw nerve exposed to the world instead of buried under her upbringing. 
A hoof slid around her shoulder and she felt a muzzle brush against her neck. 
“I just want her to be there for me,” Octavia said quietly as she lowered her head. “But she never is. I do not want to deal with it anymore.” 
“I know how important she is to you,” Lyra said, patting the cellist’s neck as she hugged her. 
“But I am not important to her. That is the issue.”
“You know that’s not true. You are probably the most important pony in Vinyl’s life. It’s just…you know what she's like. That pony is used to doing things on her own. Living in the moment. Having fun and being wild. Her mind gets distracted and lost easily. Very easily. Personally, I think it’s all that loud club music. Rattled her brain.”
Octavia chuckled at that. “Maybe. But it does not matter. I can forgive her, but I do not want to go through this anymore. We are done. This pain…it is not worth it.”
Lyra hugged her tighter, and for a moment, Octavia thought the unicorn was going to talk her out of her decision. To her surprise, Lyra did not.
“If that’s what you want. You know best about your feelings.” She let go and took a step back. 
“Um…thank you,” Octavia said, slightly confused by the fact that her friend had given up so easily. “And thank you for listening to me.”
“Hey, no problem. Even stuck up mares like you have emotions and problems, just like us lower class ponies.”
“Quiet, you,” Octavia said with a grin that was not entirely forced.  With her mind no longer drowning in grief, a thought jumped in. “By the way, why did you come to Manehattan? It is a rather long ride from Ponyville, and I imagine Bon Bon is worried about you.”
“Nah, she’s fine,” Lyra said with a wave of her hoof. “Told me to make sure you stop by and visit when you’re in Ponyville.”
“Gladly, but I am afraid I do not have any plans to go to there at the moment.”
“Right!” Lyra stood on her hind legs for a second and slammed her right hoof into her left one. “That’s the whole reason I’m here! Oh wow, she would have killed me if I forgot.”
Lyra trotted over to her saddlebag and began digging through it. After a moment, she pulled out a sealed letter and held it up with her magic.
“This is for you.”
“What is it?”
“Uh…” Lyra looked over the letter for a second. “It’s an invitation. Do you want me to read it?” Without waiting for an answer, Lyra opened the letter, cleared her throat, and put on a rather dreadful Canterlot dialect as she read. 
“‘Dear Miss Octavia Melody. You are currently the belle of the musical ball, so to speak. Your latest song is absolutely dazzling!'” Octavia felt a twinge of guilt at the praise, but she continued to listen. “'Why, I have never heard something so beautiful, and yet so heartbreakingly painful. It would be my great honor if I could have you perform at my next fashion show. I am currently recruiting musicians who specialize in stringed instruments, and I can think of no other pony who would be better fitted than you. Miss Heartstrings has already agreed, as well as your cousin, Miss Fiddlesticks. Please tell me you will be here. The date is listed below. I look forward to hearing your answer, and hope to meet you in pony soon. Sincerely yours, Miss Rarity.
“'P.S. If Lyra forgets to deliver this, I will be quite cross and you can tell her’—oh!” Lyra slipped back into her normal speaking voice and blushed. “I, uh, don’t think I’m supposed to read that part.”
Rarity was a rather famous pony and she was connected with Princess Celestia. Octavia had crossed paths with her on occasion, and while they had never been formally introduced, she had always respected the fashion designer. More so after she had seen her stand up to Canterlot’s elite to defend her friends. To turn down her invitation would be rather rude, but…
“That is kind of her, truly,” Octavia said, “but I must decline.”
“Aw, come on Octavia!” Lyra pleaded. “It will be fun. You, me, that relative of yours who I still can’t believe is related to you in any possible way. Look! I’ve already drawn up the sheet music!” Lyra pulled out another piece of paper from her saddlebag. Octavia looked it over. It was rather nice, but she could see several places where it could be improved. 
“I do no think I can play well enough right now. I am too…distracted.”
“Which is exactly why you need to go.” Lyra waved a hoof around the room. “Everything in here, everything in Manehattan, screams Vinyl at you. If you really want to get over her, you need a break from all of this. Clear your mind and whatnot.”
Octavia thought about that. It was true that everything she saw lately was reminding her of Vinyl. She did not want to completely forget the D.J., but she had to admit that getting away from the constant reminders of their broken relationship did sound nice.
“Very well, Lyra,” she sighed. “When do we leave?”
Lyra began bouncing up and down with her typical big grin on her face. “Yes! I knew I could guilt trip you into going! I told Rarity I could—” she stopped bouncing when she saw Octavia’s stare, “I mean, that’s great! Glad you changed your mind. Our train leaves in the morning.”
“Excuse me?”
“Yep. Bright and early tomorrow morning. Better start packing.”
“Lyra, it is ten thirty at night.”
“Good thing all you need is your cello and that bow tie you like to wear, huh? Speaking of the time…”
Octavia sighed again. She knew what was coming next, but she asked anyway. “Yes?”
“Can I sleep here? I didn’t make a reserva—”
“You may sleep on the couch. Like you always do.”
“Great! Thanks, Octavia.” The unicorn trotted back over to the couch and laid down. She yawned once, smiled, and then was out like a light. She hummed softly with every few breaths. 
Octavia put the fire out and retrieved a spare blanket from the hall closet. She draped it gently over her friend.  Friend. She would never have become friends with Lyra if it had not been for Vinyl. That thought made her heart ache slightly. She looked around for the hat, and then gently placed it on Lyra’s head.
Lyra lived in a completely different town. She had her own life, with her own responsibilities, and a very special somepony who genuinely cared about her, yet she still found time to be there for Octavia.
Octavia smiled sadly as she turned out the lights and walked to her bedroom. As she tucked herself in, a single thought went through her head. 
Why can you not be like that, Vinyl?
	
> Becoming Somepony Else...
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Ponyville was, without a doubt, the strangest town in all of Equestria. It made no sense. Arcade games were outside and little colts and fillies played them constantly. The hospital had heart beat monitors and x-ray machines that could take a picture of a broken wing. Rumor was, the star pupil of Princess Celestia had a mad scientist vibe…thingy going down in the basement of the library. There were ponies with cameras, electric fans, flashlights, and Vinyl had even managed to hook up her entire rig with zero problems during Rarity’s first fashion show back in the day. This town and its ponies clearly knew what technology was.
And yet, they still used lanterns for most of their lighting. The local farmers still did everything by hoof, sometimes stubbornly so. Quills and parchment were still used just as much as pens and regular paper. Worst of all, letters were still the main means of communication in the strange little town. And that fact lead to one more fact that was threatening to drive Vinyl completely, utterly, go-to-the-moon-and-back insane.
There was not a single cell tower within any reasonable distance of Ponyville. Sure, full-blown arcade games were left outside with no questions asked, but Celestia help some poor pony if she wanted to make a bucking phone call.
The DJ pulled her phone out again for probably the fiftieth time in the past hour and groaned. There were no bars, no service, no nothing. Her phone was nothing more than a glorified paperweight while she was here. She had vainly hoped that going out with Rarity to look for gems today would have given her some vague hint of a signal. They had walked well outside of the town and the trip had lasted for the better part of half the day. Vinyl had been certain that somewhere out in the badlands of…wherever they were, there would be something to pick up.
Instead, her eyes were greeted with the same sight she had seen for the past three days:
Out of signal range. 
So far, all today’s trip had gotten her was a seriously wicked case of phone anxiety, a coat that now looked closer to brown than white, a heavy cart full of gems, a rather…interesting and amusing conversation with some dogs that lived in the dirt and utterly feared Rarity, and a body that felt like it had been to ten too many club parties.
And that was just from today. Thinking about the previous days was enough for Vinyl to consider running back to Manehattan as fast as her hooves would carry her.
Rarity, despite hauling a cart that looked even fuller than Vinyl’s and constantly using her magic to locate the source of Vinyl’s aching body, did not have a hair out of place in her mane and her coat still gleamed with blinding whiteness. Vinyl was completely stumped on how Rarity had managed that, because she herself looked like she had rolled around on the floor like a puppy.
As the two unicorns walked in to Carousel Boutique, it was all Vinyl could do to keep from collapsing on Rarity’s floor. She had done all-nighters for years, sometimes multiple ones in a row. She had partied to the point of passing out on several occasions. She took joy in the fact that she was always the last pony standing after any drinking contest. Her reputation as a crazy party pony was well deserved and she took pride in it.
All of that paled to how she was feeling right that moment. Now, all she wanted to do was find the quietest, coolest, most comfortable place and pass out.  That place happened to be in the guest room that Rarity had loaned her. All the way down the hall. The length to her melt-away-all-her-worries bed was only a few trots, but it seemed like it was longer than the walk back home.
After undoing the harness to her gem cart, Vinyl decided she’d had enough. She took one step and her body gave out. She collapsed in the center of Rarity’s shop, her glasses sliding off her nose as her body tried to sink into the cool floor. If she could just stay here for the next year or so, she’d be happy.
“Oh, Miss Scratch, sweetie—”
“Rarity, call me Vinyl,” Vinyl said for the sixth time today. She buried her face in the cool floor. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been so tired. So. Much. Work.
“Um, right,” Rarity said. “Vinyl, you cannot simply collapse on my floor. It’s very un-lady like. Not to mention it would be rather difficult for me to explain why the first thing my customers see would be your, um…bum, staring them in the face.”
“What’s wrong with my flank?” Vinyl swished her tail in the air, something that took a lot more effort than it normally did. “Ponies whistle at it all the time. I bet it would help drum up a lot of business if I just sat here all day and shook it.” She chuckled to herself, despite the exhaustion she was feeling.
“Er…no doubt. But still, I must ask that you pick yourself up off my floor.”
Vinyl sighed. She put her hooves under her body and pushed. After an eternity, she managed to get herself upright again. She started to drag her corpse to the guest room, hoping that Rarity would at least allow her to rest there.
No such luck.
“Where are you going?” Rarity asked.
Vinyl stopped, closed her eyes, and did her best not to say the words that were going through her head right that moment. She turned around slowly, making sure her glasses covered her eyes, and forced a smile to her lips.
“I was going to go lie down. I’m beat.” Not wanting to sound lazy, she hastily added, “I mean, I’m not used to doing this type of…work. At these hours either. I’m more of a nightlife pony.”
“Oh no, no, no. We’re not done yet, I’m afraid.”
Vinyl closed her eyes—thankful yet again that she always wore her glasses—and counted to ten. She could feel her muscles trembling. She had thought this trip would be good for her, and in a way, it was. Octavia was not constantly at the front of her mind like she had been for the past three weeks.
But that was only because Rarity had been working Vinyl so hard that she’d been too tired to even think about the cellist, much less freak out over the current situation with her.
Rarity had arrived bright and early the day after her first visit. She had had to practically drag Vinyl out of bed and load her onto the train like a piece of luggage, at which point the DJ had fallen asleep for the entire ride to Ponyville. Once there, Rarity had helped Vinyl unload her one bag—“You only packed one bag? Are you sure that’s enough?” Rarity had asked—shown her to her room, helped her get settled, and had then become a slave driver. 
The first day had been nothing but shopping. And not even shopping for cool stuff, like new records, better music equipment, or awesome sunglasses. No, it had been fabric store after fabric store. Rarity had spent hours looking at rolls of silk, spools of thread, and tons of other clothing material that Vinyl had no words for. To her, it was all just fabric. 
Which had made it very difficult for Vinyl to answer every time Rarity had asked, “So what do you think of this one?” or “How about this one? Too much? Do you think it will clash with the red?” Vinyl had spent an entire day being bored out of her mind and being little more than Rarity’s personal bagpony.
The first night, Vinyl had gone to bed and had slept like a little filly. For once, she hadn’t stayed awake and stared at the ceiling while wishing to see Octavia, and her dreams hadn’t been filled with guilt and treble clefs. 
Sadly, morning had come too soon. Rarity had woken her up far too early—who in their right mind got up at ten a.m.?—and had started Vinyl’s day off with a lovely breakfast. Of course, Vinyl was certain that had just been Rarity’s way of guilt tripping Vinyl into helping her with her next project.
Vinyl had spent the second day of her trip to Ponyville trapped inside Rarity’s shop. She had done everything, from helping the unicorn clean off invisible dust on her mannequins, to hanging clothes on the washing line—to which Vinyl had wondered why there wasn’t a dryer in Rarity’s place—and, worst of all, modeling for Rarity’s clothes. Outfit after outfit. Dresses, skirts, wraps, pants, shirts, even veils and bridles. Rarity had made her try on everything while she made painfully slow adjustments to seams that only looked off in her own vision.
And today, Rarity had made Vinyl go with her to the outskirts of Ponyville and the two had spent all day looking for gems. Coming across the Diamond Dogs and their generous tribute had helped considerably in decreasing the work of digging up gems. However, the tribute had vastly increased the weight of Vinyl’s cart and had made it so she had to carry a fuller cart for a longer amount of time. 
It was too much. As she stood there, staring at the unicorn with the purple mane and wondering why she was so intent to drive Vinyl into the ground, Vinyl decided that she had had enough.
“Look, Rarity,” Vinyl said, trying to choose her words carefully. She could hear her bed calling her, and that was going to make her pissed if she wasn’t careful. “I appreciate that you’re letting me stay here, but I’m starting to think you’re just using me as free labor for your fashion show.”
“Nonsense,” Rarity said with a wave of her hoof. “You are helping me to be sure, but this is also to help you.”
“How?” Vinyl demanded, careful not to slam her hoof down. “By making me bone tired? Okay, so I haven’t thought about Octavia in the past three days, but I’ve also never been so worn out in my entire life.” She didn’t add that she was seriously starting to wonder why she had agreed to come in the first place.
“Oh dear. I had no idea you were so tired. Why didn’t you say so? Well, there’s only one thing to do to fix that.”
Oh. No. Vinyl gulped as she saw Rarity’s eyes light up. “Um…yeah. Go collapse on that totally amazingly comfy bed you have?” she offered hopefully.
“Of course not. You don’t want to go to sleep covered in all that sweat and filth, do you?” Before Vinyl could say that she really didn’t mind at the moment, the unicorn continued. “You most certainly don’t. No, we’re going to the spa!”
Oh no. Please, no more prissy stuff. I can’t take it.
Vinyl sighed as Rarity turned and trotted out the door, still full of as much energy as she had been all day. 
How the buck does she do that? Vinyl hung her head and followed. Well, at least the spa meant that she’d get to relax, and that was something at least. Then again, if this was a spa Rarity favored, it probably meant that there would be incense candles everywhere, cliché mood music, and plenty of plants to keep up the illusion of a tropical jungle. 
None of that sounded relaxing to Vinyl. Incense made her nose twitch, sappy mood music made her body get restless because it reminded her that she was sitting still, and the thought of a tropical jungle just made her sweat. All that nature wasn’t really her thing, what with its total lack of electricity and thus no way to play her music.
Ten minutes later, Vinyl was certain of two things. First, she owed Rarity an apology for thinking that her spa would be torture on a whole new level. 
Second, she was positive that she was dead. Her body must have collapsed somewhere in the dirt between Rarity’s shop and the Blossom sisters’ spa. Her soul had left that horribly tired shell to rot in the street, food for whatever animals would eat it. And now a beautiful pink angel, with an exotic voice that sent chills up Vinyl’s spine, was escorting her soul through heaven. 
Wait. If I’m dead, how do I still have a spine…? she thought. Oh, forget it.
Sadly, it meant that Rarity had died as well, because she was sitting next to Vinyl on her own lavish spa bed, being attended to by her own blue angel. Vinyl found it hard to feel sorry for her life being cut so short though, because she was enjoying herself even more than Vinyl was.
“Ah, isn’t this nice?” Rarity asked as Lotus continued to massage her back.
“Uh huh,” Vinyl said as her eyes rolled into the back of her head. Aloe’s hooves were magic, plain and simple. Every ache, every pain, and every knot that had developed over the past three days simply melted when the pink pony touched them. Vinyl wasn’t usually a fan of this pampering stuff, but she had to admit that she could get used to it. After a quick shower to wash off the dirt, the sisters had made it their sole purpose to give Vinyl utter bliss. 
Vinyl’s eyes drifted close and her head sagged even lower off her bed. Aloe’s hooves worked her shoulders in small circles. They slowly moved up the unicorn’s neck and her mouth fell open. Her mind barely registered the fact that a small amount of drool had started to hang from her lip. She tried to suck it back in, but her face went slack as Aloe’s hooves moved behind her ears. She stuck her tongue out, trying to catch it before it fell. Her tongue lapped against the side of her face like a dog as the drool fell.
“Are you all right, Miss Scratch?” a heavenly voice asked.
“Huh?” Vinyl said, lifting her head. Her mouth hung open and she tried to form words, but her brain was still on bliss overload. Those hooves. Why had those hooves stopped rubbing her shoulders? Her back? Her neck? Why had they stopped rubbing her?
Aloe giggled. “Don’t fall asleep, Miss Scratch. Rarity scheduled you for the whole treatment.”
“Dere’s moor?” Vinyl asked as her brain began to come back from the near coma it had been so close to obtaining. 
“Naturally,” Aloe said with a smile.
Wow, she has pretty teeth.
Aloe walked away and came back shortly with a file in her mouth. For a moment, Vinyl was afraid she was going to have to move because her hooves were not in the best position for filing. However, Aloe instead stepped in front of Vinyl and began to gently rub the file across Vinyl’s horn.
“Oh Celestia,” Vinyl said. Her eyes rolled even further back into her head and she set her chin down on the bed, like a dog wanting to be petted. She had never had her horn filed before, but after this, she was going to make sure she did it regularly. The grinding sound was a little off putting at first, but the feelings flooding her body quickly drowned out the noise. Her eyes were getting heavier with each stroke of the file. She could stay here forever, just drifting in the bliss… 
Aloe stopped after a while and Vinyl couldn’t help but groan with disappointment. She felt her face slide through something wet and she realized that, once again, she had drooled all over herself. Sweet Celestia, Aloe was good. How were these ponies not famous and in high demand all over Equestria?
Blushing, Vinyl sat up and wiped her face with her hoof. She looked over at Rarity and blinked a few times.
“Uh…what are you doing?”
“It’s called a mud mask,” Rarity said simply. “I swear, has no pony ever heard of these things? Besides these lovely ladies, of course.” Rarity waved her hoof around, trying to indicate Lotus and Aloe. The sisters stood next to each other and smiled. “I had Lotus put it on while you slept.”
“I fell asleep?” Vinyl asked sheepishly. 
“Why yes. You made the cutest little sounds. Did you know that your back leg kicks ever so slightly?”
Vinyl’s face burned. “Uh…no, I didn’t,” she lied. Octavia had told her that once too, after Vinyl had fallen asleep during one of their jam sessions. Octavia…
“Anyway,” Rarity continued before Vinyl’s thoughts drifted into unfriendly waters, “I didn’t think you’d enjoy this one, so I skipped it for you.” Rarity lifted…were those cucumbers on her eyes? She lifted one of them and peeked at Vinyl. “You don’t want to try it, do you?”
“No, I’ll pass on that one. What’s next?”
“The hot bubble bath,” Rarity said. “Just give me a moment to wash this refining mask off.”
A few minutes later, Vinyl was soaking in a bath and seriously considering never moving again. If she could somehow find a way to get all her gear from Manehattan to Ponyville and hook it up in the spa, without fear of electrocuting herself, she would happily spend the rest of her life in the water.
Aloe’s massage had loosened every sore spot in Vinyl’s being. The gentle bubbles and the warm water were now washing those aches from every pore. Her body felt like it was breathing for the first time, and in that one breath it felt like it had dissolved into air. She floated in the water, allowing her hooves to drift listlessly around her while her head sank into the water up to her chin.  She closed her eyes and let her body melt away all its tension.
From somewhere far away, she heard Rarity chuckle. 
“Be careful, you might drown,” the fashion pony said from across the bath.
“You’d never let that happen,” Vinyl said, her eyes closed. “You don’t want to lose your free labor.”
“Nonsense,” Rarity said. “I have my little Spikey-wikey if I ever need help. He is such a doll, always offering to help me with anything I need. But you, you’re helping because I thought you’d want to earn a little bit of the praise instead of just having it thrown on you.”
Vinyl’s eyes opened cautiously and she sat up in the bath. “Uh…what?”
Rarity levitated a pamphlet over and held it in front of Vinyl. “I included your name on the announcement pamphlet. See? Right there.”
Vinyl frantically scanned the piece of paper floating in front of her. She had done it! Rarity was admitting that she was guilt tripping Vinyl into helping. There was no way Vinyl would be able to turn her down after this. 
“‘Ladies and gentlecolts,’” she mumbled as she skimmed the pamphlet. “‘Please join us…featuring exotic Saddle Arabian-themed music…sponsored by Rarity and D.J. Pon three’?” Vinyl looked up in shock, her anger at being tricked vanishing and being replaced with dread. “Rarity, are you insane? I don’t know anything about fashion! I hate that stuff. I…I mean, my mane is always a mess. My coat is not nearly as bright as yours for a reason. And…and I wear sunglasses nearly all the time. My fashion sense is less than zero.”
“Oh, I know. It was written all over your face these past few days. And yet, you still helped me with all my work without a single complaint. Well, except for that one from earlier today. So, it’s only fair that you share some of the credit. I had the print shop draft them yesterday as a way of saying thank you. You truly are a good friend.”
“But—” Wait. So she wasn’t trying to guilt-trip me?
“Nope. It’s done. The pamphlets are already being given out. After all, we need to get ponies excited for this. It’s in two days, and we’ve already waited too long to start ‘the buzz’ about it.”
“Two days?”
“Why yes, darling.”
“Uh…are you going to have enough time to get everything ready? I mean, I’m not that great with sewing and stuff. I don’t want to get in your way back at the shop—”
Rarity held up a hoof. “Oh, no need to worry about that, dear. As I said when I came to visit you, I’ve been planning this event for a while. All the other outfits are made, with only a few adjustments needed here and there. Most of which you helped me with yesterday.”
Vinyl cocked an eyebrow. She might not know much about fashion, but she understood supply and demand just fine. There was no possible way all that work from the past three days had been for just a few minor tweaks on already completed outfits. “But…what about all that fabric you bought?”
Rarity chuckled. “Oh, that was for your outfit.”
“WHAT?!” Water splashed over the edge of the bath as Vinyl stood up on all fours. She quickly lost her balance and fell forward, splashing water everywhere a second time.
“Your coat is dazzling, and your mane colors are very unique, not to mention your eyes and the way you wear your mane. I needed to try out several patterns before I chose what to make for you.”
“But I can’t—” Vinyl started.
There was a knock at the door and Vinyl turned around. Lotus poked her head in and smiled. 
“Excuse me, Miss Rarity. There are some…uh, ponies asking to speak with you.”
“I’m sure they can wait,” Rarity said with a wave. “I’m in the middle of my spa bath.”
Lotus blushed and Vinyl nearly choked at the adorableness that beamed from her expression. “Uh, it’s them.” 
Vinyl looked back at Rarity, confused by Lotus’ strange behavior, but she found no answers from the other unicorn. Rarity’s eyes had gone wide and she had a look of shock on her face. Her blue eyes darted from Lotus to Vinyl several times before they came to rest on Vinyl. She gave an uneasy, and slightly creepy, smile and blinked once. It was as if her face was trying to cover for her mind as it struggled to remember how to speak.
“Oh. Tell them I’ll be right out.” Rarity stood and exited the bath. She pulled a towel to her with her magic and dried her mane, then wrapped the thing around her head. 
“So…are we done?” Vinyl asked, moving to get out of the bath. She hated to leave, but if Rarity was finished, then there really wasn’t any point in staying any—
“No!” Rarity said, spinning on her hooves so fast that Vinyl slipped back into the water out of surprise. “No, no of course not. I’ll, uh…just be a minute. You stay right there and relax. We want you at your best when you model your new outfit.”
Without another word, Rarity put on a bathrobe lined with pink fluff and walked out the exit. Vinyl noticed that not a single drop of water fell from her as she moved. Vinyl had no idea how that was possible, because she was always dripping wet whenever she got out of shower, no matter how many seconds she spent drying herself off.
Vinyl sat alone in the bubbling water. It was still nice to feel the constant pressure on her coat from the bubble jets, but the relaxation from earlier was starting to fade. Rarity’s bombshells about the fashion show were still raging in her mind, but she was more preoccupied with whoever them was. Whoever these ponies were, they had caught Rarity completely by surprise.
Curious, Vinyl tilted her head toward the door and perked her ears up, struggling to hear the conversation she knew had to be taking place on the other side of the door. After a few moments, she heard Rarity’s voice.
“Oh, uh, what a pleasure to finally meet you in pony!”
A reply, soft and too faint for Vinyl to make out.
“Why thank you! Although I feel the pleasure is all mine, truly. May I take it that you’ll be joining us then?”
Another soft reply. Vinyl made a face and stuck one of her hooves in her ear in an effort to clean it out. Whoever the other pony was, she sure was quiet.
“Oh, uh, that?” Rarity said nervously. She forced a laugh and continued. “Oh, that’s just…uh—”
“An old flier. Before we made the changes! We couldn’t get in touch, so, uh…” a new voice said. Vinyl frowned. She knew that voice, but she couldn’t place it.
“Yes!” Rarity said. “Yes, that’s it! I haven’t had a chance to draw up some new pamphlets, and with the event the day after tomorrow, there really hasn’t been any time. Every pony in Ponyville is already aware of the change though, so there’s really no need.”
The quiet voice again, or at least Vinyl thought so. It was so quiet that she wasn’t sure if she heard anything.
“Oh, um, Lyra?” Rarity said.
Lyra! Vinyl lowered her face into the water. At least she knew who the quiet pony was. Lyra rarely went anywhere without Bon Bon. 
Great. Just bucking great, she thought. Octavia got along just perfectly with the harpist—“It’s a lyre, Vinyl,” Octavia’s voice said in her head—and that had always bothered Vinyl. Lyra wasn’t a bad pony by any means. Sure she had her weird quirks and habits, but Vinyl was hardly one to judge her for those. She herself was often told that she had a…unique personality, though not in such nice terms. In fact, if it wasn’t for one thing, the two of them would probably get along great.
But that one thing was that every time Lyra was around Octavia, Vinyl felt like she didn’t exist. Lyra understood Octavia’s music better than Vinyl could ever hope to. 
Vinyl tried, she really did. She tried to understand the differences in form, what separated a good piece from a masterpiece, and she tried to find all the famous classical musicians as interesting as Octavia did, but she just couldn’t. It was so boring. It was so stale to talk about music and ponies that had long since been set in stone, never to change again, never to grow and be alive like Vinyl’s own music. The music sounded nice and she appreciated it—especially when it was Octavia playing—but that was all she felt for it. She could sit and listen to Octavia play for hours and be completely happy, but she knew she could never connect with the cellist on a higher level when it came to her musical tastes.
But Lyra, goody-little-Lyra, got it. She could keep up with Octavia whenever the cellist spoke of concerts. She knew exactly who Octavia meant whenever she spoke of a pony who had died centuries ago. They finished each other sentences when they spoke about a piece a music whose original copy had long since turned to dust. When those two were together and talking about music, the rest of the world ceased to be.  
Vinyl ceased to be. 
And she hated it.
She sank her muzzle further into the water and glared at the bubbles, blowing her own in frustration. 
Not that it matters now. You may as well not exist as far as Octavia’s concerned.
“Go the buck away!” Vinyl said, slamming the water with her hoof. With Rarity gone, the thoughts that had been threatening her earlier came crashing back into her mind with full force. It wasn’t fair! She had gone three whole days with little more than a passing thought of Octavia. Sure, she had worked herself to the bone and she had spent the majority of those days fighting boredom and wishing her phone worked, but she’d also been marginally happy. Her sleep had been restful for the first time in weeks. She hadn’t spent all her free time staring at glasses full of hard cider and other drinks. And when she wasn’t being a slave driver, Rarity had been extremely generous. She had given Vinyl a place to stay, treated her to amazing meals, both home cooked and eating out, listened to everything Vinyl had to say, and honestly seemed willing to help her in any way she could.
And now, with the mention of a single name, that gentle peace had been shattered and all the thoughts about Octavia came flooding back.
Vinyl sat in the bath, all the joy and bliss gone from her body. The heat was no longer soothing and the bubbles were no longer pleasant to the touch. The jets that had felt like a mini massage moments before now only irritated her. 
Realizing that her relaxation time was over long before she wanted it to be, Vinyl pulled herself out of the water and began to dry herself. Naturally, water dripped off of her in rivers and was soon gathering around her hooves, unlike when Rarity had gotten out.
“I am so sorry about that, Vinyl,” Rarity said as she came back in. “Oh, are you all finished?”
“What was that all about?” Vinyl asked as she dried her face. She suspected that bath water wasn’t the only type of water on her face now. She scrubbed extra hard around her eyes to make sure.
“Oh, uh…some ponies who are helping with the fashion show. They just got back into town and wanted to check with me to see if anything had, uh, changed.”
“Lyra and Bon Bon are helping too, huh?” Vinyl turned to face Rarity, confident she had dried her face off enough to do so. Still, she placed her sunglasses on just to be sure and everything took on a familiar purple tint.
“Bon—” Rarity stopped and put a hoof to her mouth. “Ah, yes! Yes, they are. Lyra’s going to be providing the music, along with a few other ponies, and Bon Bon is going to be one of the models.”
Great. I can’t wait to see Lyra. The first thing she’s gonna do is ask about Octavia.
“Speaking of models,” Rarity said as she took a step closer, “I got the impression earlier that you might not be entirely thrilled about being one. I am so sorry. I was so excited to create something new that I just assumed you shared my feelings. I tend to get swept up in the moment sometimes.”
Vinyl sighed. “Do you think I could do it?” She wasn’t sure what had made her say that. She was certain she didn’t want to be a model, and yet…
Maybe it was the depression eating at her core, or the fact that the logical part of her brain was still coming down from the relaxation high it had been on for the past hour, but she found herself wanting to be noticed. She wanted ponies to look at her and not think she was only good at throwing loud parties and getting wasted. She wanted ponies to think she had class. She wanted to think she had class. 
Wow. I must really be screwed up if I’m seeking approval from the fashion world, she thought with a small smirk.
“Why yes, of course you can!” Rarity’s eyes went wide and a cautious smile graced her lips.
“Even though I’m…me?”
“What in Equestria does that have to do with anything, dear?” 
Vinyl rolled her eyes behind her glasses. “Come on, Rarity. If there’s a pony with less class than me, I’ve never met them. ‘Graceful’ and ‘elegant’ are probably the last two words anypony would ever use to describe me. I’d hate to ruin your show.”
Rarity laughed and Vinyl felt herself blushing from embarrassment. She knew all those things were true, but still, it hurt to have one of her friends laugh at her when she was being so honest.
“Do you remember what happened at my first show?” Rarity asked, wiping a tear from her eye. “There is no possible way you could do worse than that, believe me.”
“Yeah,” Vinyl said, smiling at the memory. Those ponies had looked pretty bad. “I guess you’re right.”
“And I still managed to turn them into top models. A bookworm, a rough-and-tumble athlete, a country pony, a party animal, and…well, okay, Fluttershy didn’t really need any help,” Rarity looked down at the floor for a moment and frowned, “but still.  Trust me darling, you’ll do fine. This isn’t a Canterlot-level fashion show. It’s just something for us ponies here in Ponyville.”
“Alright,” Vinyl said after a moment of thought.
“Are you sure? I don’t want to pressure you or anything.” 
Vinyl smiled her first genuine smile in what felt like years. “This is important to you, right? And if I can help, I’ll do it. Besides, I’ve already worked this hard for your show. May as well go the whole way now.” I already blew it with another pony, she added silently. 
Rarity’s eyes went wide and she clapped her front hooves.“Oh, I just knew you would say yes! Now come along, we still have to put the finishing touches on your outfit. Hurry up and dry yourself off. I don’t want the clothing sticking to your coat and getting all wrinkled.”
Vinyl groaned. “Ugh. More modeling?”
“But of course. Modeling is what, well, ‘modeling’ is all about.” 
As Rarity walked out, chatting to herself about the color and design of Vinyl’s outfit and how she’d be the talk of the show, an idea slowly fought its way through Vinyl’s depression. It clawed at the dark thoughts, pulling them back enough so that its tiny rays of light could reach her brain.
If she could learn some class, like those fancy musicians that Octavia loved so much…if she could help create a fashion show that was the stuff of legends in the fashion world...if she could put on this outfit and pull off the grace of a model...if she could change herself to be more like what Octavia liked, then it would be Lyra’s turn to be ignored. If she could make all of those ifs become reality, then maybe, just maybe…
“Hey, Rarity?” Vinyl asked quietly.
“Yes?” Rarity stopped and looked over her shoulder, her eyes still gleaming with a thousand ideas of what to design.
“Do…do you think we could get one of those fliers to Octavia?”
Something flashed across Rarity’s face. It was there for just a moment, passing so fast that Vinyl almost thought it was a trick of the light or the shadow of a pegasus passing in front of the sun, but she was certain she had seen something in Rarity’s face. She just had no idea what.
“Oh…of course!” Rarity said. Her eyes refused to meet Vinyl’s and she scratched the back of her neck with her hoof. “I’ll send one out to her as soon as we get back. I will personally give it to Miss Hooves for delivery.”
Vinyl felt the claws of the idea shred the last pieces of the depression in her brain. “Thanks. That’d be great.”
“Think nothing of it, darling,” Rarity said, turning forward again without meeting Vinyl’s eyes. “It’s nothing, really.”
	
> Can I Be Me Without You...?
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	The train ride from Manehattan to Ponyville had been almost incredibly unremarkable. Lyra had sat next to Octavia the whole time, chatting about music, Bon Bon, Bon Bon’s newest sweet creations, Lyra’s fascination with creatures that did not exist, Bon Bon again, and generally nothing of importance. It was polite small talk, and Octavia appreciated what the unicorn was trying to do.
However, the train ride was mired by one single thought the entire time.
Vinyl. Was. Gone.
Octavia had gone to Vinyl’s apartment early this morning, leaving Lyra still passed out on her couch. She was planning to inform her that she would be out of town for a few days. Just because she was upset with the unicorn did not mean she intended to uncivil, and part of her had been truly concerned about the lack of contact from Vinyl. She had fully expected the D.J. to be sound asleep, so she had called ahead of time to wake her. Vinyl had not answered. In fact, the message Octavia had received stated that Vinyl’s phone was unreachable. Thinking that was rather peculiar, since Vinyl had been trying to reach her constantly for the past several weeks, Octavia had travelled on hoof a bit faster than she normally did when going to Vinyl’s home.
When she had arrived, she had tapped on the door once. No answer.  She had knocked three times then. Still no answer. Deciding that her friend had probably drank herself into a stupor, Octavia had banged on the door and called Vinyl’s name. There had still been no answer.
Octavia had grown concerned at that point, and had left to see Steve, the oddly-named manager of Vinyl’s apartment complex. Steve had remembered her on sight, saying that he never forgot a pretty face, and had agreed to let Octavia into Vinyl’s apartment. She would not have normally approved of such blatant disregard of privacy and rules, but she had been worried that Vinyl was in trouble. As in, done something exceedingly rash type of trouble.
The sight that had greeted Octavia’s eyes when Steve had opened the door was not what she had been expecting. Vinyl’s living room had been cleaned to perfectionist standards. Octavia had had to double-check the number on the door to make certain she was at the right place. She had scanned the room, both in wonderment and bafflement, looking for any sign of the D.J. Her eyes had lingered a bit too long on the turntable sitting against the wall, but she had managed to tear them away after a few moments.
“She…she is not here,” Octavia had said.
“Well, no,” Steve had said, not realizing that Octavia had been thinking out loud. “Didn’t she tell you? She left.”
“Left?” Octavia had asked, startled that Vinyl would do so without at least leaving a message.  
Why would she though? You are not speaking to her, remember?
“Yeah, a few days ago. Some pony from Canterlot came by, and the next morning Vinyl and her left. Really pretty lady. Very high class it seemed like.”
“Oh,” was all Octavia had been able to say to that.
Octavia felt her ears droop as she recalled the memory for the sixty-third time since she had boarded the train. Vinyl was in Canterlot with some fancy pony, touring the capital of Equestria and likely having a lovely time. And she had not even bothered to inform Octavia that she was leaving.
It pained her to realize that she could be replaced so easily.
Why? Vinyl does not care about you. You told her that you were not important to her. Why should it bother you that she has found a new pony to—
“Be silent!” Octavia said a bit too loudly.
“Ghosts again?”
Octavia looked up. “Pardon me?”
“The ghosts,” Lyra said with a grin. “Are they bothering you again? I thought we left them behind at your house.”
“Very funny, Lyra,” Octavia said. “No, I was just thinking about…things.”
“I see,” Lyra said, scratching her chin with her hoof and pretending to look like a serious psychiatrist. “And these…things. Do they happen to be covered in white fur, have an electric blue mane, and an unhealthy obsession with sunglasses?”
“Says the mare who insists that these ‘humans’ are actual beings.”
Lyra did not break character. “Hm…touché. But you still have not answered my question.”
Octavia hung her head and stared at her hooves. “Perhaps.”
A hoof slapped her gently on the shoulder. “See? That’s why you needed to come to Ponyville. If you had stayed home, you would have spent all this time wondering about Vinyl. Where is she? What is she doing? Why won’t she answer her phone? Was I too hard on her?”
“I was not too hard on her,” Octavia interrupted. She was not. Vinyl had deserved every ounce of what she had received. 
But that does not make it any easier to take, does it?
“Hey, you’re the one wondering it. I just said it,” Lyra said as she raised her hooves defensively. 
“I am not wondering it at all. Now stop it.”
“Fine,” Lyra sighed. “We’re here anyway.” 
Sure enough, the train was coming to a halt at the Ponyville platform. Octavia heard the attendant call for all ponies disembarking to begin gathering their possessions. She stood and pulled her cello out, which still weighed slightly more than she remembered, and strapped it to her body. Next she gracefully put on her saddlebag and ran a hoof across her mane in an attempt to straighten it. Lyra stood as well, getting a big grin on her face and rocking back and forth as the train came to a halt.
“Oh boy, it’s great to be home!” she said as the doors opened. She dashed out without another word and stood on the platform, basking in the sun.  Octavia followed, decidedly less cheerful but still happy to be off the train. Lyra was most likely correct. Spending time away from Manehattan and all those memories of Vinyl would undoubtedly do her some good. 
“Where shall we go first?” Octavia asked as she looked around. “Perhaps you should go tell Bon Bon that you have returned.”
“Nah,” Lyra said as she waved her hoof. She was staring at a bulletin board at the end of the train station. “Trust me, we’ll have plenty of time to see her later tonight.”
“What are you looking at?” Octavia asked, walking up beside Lyra and trying to peek over her shoulder.
“Oh, um, nothing!” Lyra spun around and slammed her body against the bulletin board, struggling to cover as much of it as she could. “It’s uh…just a little joke.”
“Really?” Octavia said, still trying to peer around the mint unicorn. “Well I could certainly use a good laugh.” When it became apparent that Lyra was not going to budge, Octavia reached out and firmly moved her aside. 
A flier was hanging on the bulletin board. It was rather fancy, with a lovely flower pattern running around its edges. The lettering on it was done in elegant strokes, the type of penmanship that Octavia rarely saw outside of Canterlot. She had grown up learning how to write this well, but to think that other ponies, especially ones in Ponyville, could write as well as her was a bit shocking. Though she was pleased to see such refined culture. 
Curious as to what could be so important as to warrant such beautiful penmanship, she began to read the flier.
“‘Ladies and gentlecolts. Please join us this weekend for an exciting fashion show. As always, admission is free and you are all cordially invited to attend.’” 
“Come on, Octavia, we really should get going,” Lyra said from off to the side.
“Just a moment,” Octavia said. “I believe you said we had no place to be, since you were in no hurry to see Bon Bon. Surely you can spare a few moments for this. I take it that this is the fashion show we are performing for?”
“Yep. Can’t slip anything past you,” Lyra said, her voice oddly nervous. “So, now that that’s done, how about we go get something to eat? I’m starving.”
“In a moment,” Octavia said. She continued to read the flier.
“‘There will be many outfits on display, many inspired by our recent visit from the dignitaries from Saddle Arabia. All outfits will, of course, be up for sale after the show at Carousel Boutique. The show will be held outside of the shop and will be featuring exotic Saddle Arabian-themed music in order to keep with the theme.’” Octavia paused at the part. She had never played anything from that land, and she was not certain her cello was the best choice. Still, she was confident in her ability to learn. “‘We look forward to seeing everypony there and having a wonderful night, sponsored by Rarity and D.J. Pon three.’”
D.J. Pon-3? But that would mean…
Octavia looked at the ground, her heart suddenly caught in her throat. So this was where Vinyl was! She found herself conflicted with the sudden realization. On the one hoof, she was still upset with the unicorn for missing such a big moment for her. Vinyl had also left Manehattan without so much as a note saying where she was going or when she would be back, causing Octavia a small amount of worry.
On the other hoof, Octavia was relieved to learn that Vinyl was well. She also found that she was slightly looking forward to seeing her. She was not ready for…for whatever was next, but she admitted that it would be nice to finally talk to the D.J. Her anger had cooled enough that she could at least speak to the unicorn.
She briefly wondered how Steve could mix up Ponyville and Canterlot, but the thought was fleeting and she brushed it aside.
Octavia carefully pulled the flier down and set it in her saddlebag. She turned to Lyra and smiled, her first real smile in the long time. “Very well, since you have no destination in mind—”
“Hey!” Lyra said. “I wanted to get something to eat.” 
“I have decided that we shall go visit Miss Rarity,” Octavia continued before Lyra had another chance to interrupt. If she was co-sponsoring the show with Vinyl, then she most likely knew where Vinyl was. Vinyl might even be with her right this moment! 
“Uh, look, Octavia,” Lyra said, scratching the back of her neck and looking everywhere but Octavia’s face. “I…don’t think that’s such a good idea. She’s really busy if I know her. What with the show being the day after tomorrow and everything.”
“Well of course she is,” Octavia said, beginning to make her way down the stairs from the train platform. “And I am certain that she will want to inform us of our roles right away. Planning these events takes time, and making sure every last detail falls into place can be stressful. The least we can do is let her know that two of her musicians have arrived.”
“Fine,” Lyra said, trotting up next to her, “but I’m still starving.”
Octavia stopped and looked around the quaint little town. There was something charming about the lack of tall buildings, the fact that ‘traffic’ consisted of ponies wandering the middle of a dirt street, and that storefronts were literally stalls that ponies seemed to set up and close down each day.  There were stalls for beauty products, building supplies, sports equipment, and food, just to name a few.
In fact, there were plenty of stalls for food, and Octavia’s stomach decided right then to remind her that it was well past lunch and getting rather late in the afternoon. Perhaps Lyra had a point. She looked around the main street, trying to decide what to eat.
There were sit down restaurants, to be certain. A rather posh looking stallion was waiting tables at one, and Octavia noted with a chuckle that the seats were nothing but piles of hay. Still, the food seemed reasonable, if the crowd was any indication. If she was not in a hurry, she would have chosen that place. 
She continued to look around. There were several to-go stalls scattered throughout the area. One was selling cherries, but Octavia felt that she would need to buy an awful lot if she wanted to hold off her hunger until she had a proper meal. There was another stall selling asparagus, to which she wrinkled her nose. She did not care for that vegetable, and she could not understand how anypony could. There had to be something else…
“Ah,” she said when her eyes fell on a particular stand at the other end of the street. “How about we get a bite over there?” She began walking toward the stall with Lyra following close behind. Naturally, Lyra did not stay there for long. She sprinted ahead and was eyeballing the delicious looking fruit by the time Octavia caught up with her.
“Howdy, Lyra,” the store clerk said. “Ya hungry? What’s the matter? Bon Bon not makin’ enough sweets for ya?”
“I’m starving, and I always get her test treats first, so they’re not always…appetizing,” Lyra said, licking her lips as she tried to eat everything with her eyes. “What’s good?”
“Well, they’re all fresh, like always. So I guess—oh. Howdy, miss,” the store clerk said as Octavia walked up. There was something about this pony, but Octavia could not place it. She looked awfully familiar.
“Say, you look rather familiar,” the pony said, voicing Octavia’s own thoughts. Her green eyes appraised Octavia and the cellist suddenly felt very self-conscious. She was not used to having a pony study her so intently up close. Ponies usually looked at her from out in an audience, or hid their judging behind half-closed eyes and upturned muzzles. Not this pony. Her eyes tore right into Octavia. 
“Ya look like my cousin in fact.” The pony’s face suddenly changed to a serious look and her eyes narrowed a bit. “Fiddlesticks, did ya go and try ta dye your coat again?”
“Nah, Applejack,” Lyra said as she put her hoof around Octavia’s neck. “This is Octav—”
“Well pony feathers,” Applejack said as her eyes went wide. “Octavia Melody! I, er, mean, Miss Melody. It’s not every day we get a famous celebrity here in old Ponyville. Well, actually, we get ‘em more than ya’d expect—uh, but I don’t mean that make’s ya any less important. Shoot.” Applejack paused and took a breath. “Um…it’s nice to meet ya, really.” She pulled her hat off and held it to her chest, bowing slightly as she did.
“Please, call me Octavia,” Octavia said as she nodded back. Applejack. Of course. This was the pony who had had a rather…interesting interpretation of a garden party during Octavia’s last performance in Canterlot. She was also one of the six ponies who had saved Equestria on numerous occasions, but for some reason she had slipped Octavia’s mind. She did not seem to stand out as much as the other ponies. Perhaps that was because she seemed the most normal. Applejack always sounded like a levelheaded pony, unlike the others Octavia heard about.
“I heard your song,” Applejack said. “I don’t normally hold for that stuff, but Fiddlesticks insisted I listen to it. I can see why it’s so popular.”
Octavia blushed. That was Fiddlesticks for certain. Octavia had never been a pony to brag about her musical talent, but her cousin more than made up for it. 
“Is my cousin here?” she asked. She had not seen the violinist—Fiddlesticks called it a fiddle—in some time, and she would love to catch up if she managed to find a free moment while she was in Ponyville. 
“You betcha,” Applejack said with a smile. “She’s staying with me and ma’ family down on the farm. Came in for Rarity’s big fashion show this weekend. Said she was playin’ in it and whatnot.”
“Yeah, yeah, that’s all good,” Lyra said, “but can we please discuss the family tree after I get something to eat?”
Octavia giggled softly. “I apologize, Lyra. Miss Applejack—”
“Whoa, nelly. If I’m a callin’ ya Octavia, you’re callin’ me Applejack.”
“Very well. Applejack, two of your best apples, please.”
“You got it!” Applejack looked over a few of her apples, while Lyra continued to stare longingly at them, until she plucked two bright red ones from a bucket. “Here ya go. Two of the best tastin’ apples in Equestria, guaranteed.”
“Thank you,” Octavia said as she picked hers off the store counter. Lyra grabbed hers with her magic and unceremoniously took a huge bite out of it.  She sighed as she chewed, pieces sticking to her face and juice trickling down her chin. 
“Delicious,” Lyra said between chewing. Her manners were rather lacking, but Octavia found herself smiling anyway. In a way, Lyra reminded her of Vinyl. She carefully took a small bite of her own apple and found herself agreeing with Lyra’s statement. 
“It is very tasty,” Octavia said after she swallowed. “How much do I owe you?”
“Ah, shucks. It’s on the house,” Applejack said as she put her hat back on her head. Was she blushing?
“Nonsense. Us ‘celebrities’ can certainly afford to pay for our own meals, being famous and such.”
“Well, if ya insist. Four bits for both.”
Octavia pulled out eight bits and laid them on the counter. “Here, and not a word.”
“Thank ya kindly,” Applejack said, blushing and sweeping the bits off the counter. “Anything else I can help ya with?”
“Have you seen Rarity?” Lyra asked over another bite of her apple. “Octavia wants to check in with her for the fashion show.”
“Ya’ll are playin’ too?” Applejack asked. Octavia nodded. “That’s great. I’ll tell Fiddlesticks when I get home later today. She’ll be so happy. Anyway, I saw Rarity headin’ into that spa ‘bout an hour ago.”
“The Blossoms’ place?” Lyra asked.
Applejack’s expression went flat. “Is there another spa in Ponyville that Rarity goes to?”
“Nope,” Lyra said, completely missing Applejack roll her eyes and shake her head. “Thanks.” With that, she turned to leave.
“Thank you, Applejack,” Octavia said with a polite nod. She turned and began to follow Lyra. “And please do tell my cousin about my arrival. I would very much like to see her while I am here.”
“You betcha!” Applejack said with a wave.
Octavia trotted to catch up with Lyra and began to walk down the streets of Ponyville, careful not to drop her apple as she went. She refrained from asking Lyra how far they were from the spa. Ponyville was not a large town by any means, and the spa was most likely located near the center. She could wait until they reached their destination before she started asking questions. Eating the apple was also proving to be a helpful excuse to not speak too much.
However, her mind was running dozens of thoughts all at the same time. It was like a cram session in her brain. Why had Vinyl not told Octavia that she was going to Ponyville? Would Octavia be willing to forgive the unicorn? She had told Lyra last night that she was, but now she was wondering if she really could. What would Vinyl say? What would Octavia say? What had Vinyl been doing for the past week? Why did Octavia care about any of this, when she was still telling herself that she was angry with her? She was still angry with her, right? Perhaps not as much as she had been the night of the concert, but she was certain there was still some justified anger there. The pain certainly was. What would—?
“Hey, Octavia,” Lyra said, shattering the delicate thoughts that Octavia had been trying to organize in her mind. “Did you hear me?”
“Uh, no, I am afraid not,” Octavia said, slightly embarrassed that she had been caught wandering in her own thoughts. 
“I said we’re here.  Maybe I should go in fir—”
“Excellent.” Octavia strolled forward and pushed open the door. “Let us not waste any more time. I am certain Rarity wishes to speak with us as soon as she is able.”
A bell rang as the door swung past the chime hanging from the ceiling. Octavia walked in, taking in the room with a glance and trying to not be obvious about her search for Vinyl. 
The spa, like most of Ponyville, was nothing like anything in Manehattan. There was a simple lobby with one sofa for waiting customers. A small table sat in the middle of the room with a stack of fashion magazines on it. Several ferns decorated the interior lobby and a soothing fragrance drifted through the air. A hint of music was also playing in the background, and with a small sense of pride, Octavia recognized it as one of her own pieces.
Behind the front desk, two ponies were staring at her, both with peculiar expressions on their faces. The blue one looked extremely nervous and her eyes kept jumping toward the door that led out of the lobby and into the actual spa. The pink one had a smirk on her face and seemed to be taking a small amount of pleasure in her sister’s discomfort.
Octavia thought both their behaviors were rather odd. She moved forward a step, preparing to introduce herself and inquire about Rarity, when Lyra came up behind her.
“Hey, Lotus, Aloe,” the unicorn said, stepping in front of Octavia and blocking her path to the counter. “How are you doing? How’s business?”
“Miss Heartstrings,” the pink one said with a smile, “do not be so rude. This lovely mare was ahead of you.”
“How may we help you, Miss Melody?” the blue one asked, nudging her sister gently aside. Both ponies looked at her and, in perfect synchronization, closed their eyes, tilted their heads, and smiled with blindingly white teeth.
They know who I am. I had no idea my music was this popular.
“Cute, girls,” Lyra said, her voice slightly annoyed. “Look, Applejack told us Rarity was here. Octavia wants to talk with her." Octavia gave Lyra a confused look, trying to figure out why she had put so much stress on Rarity’s name. 
The pink pony opened her eyes and her smile shifted slightly. “Miss Rarity is indeed here. She’s in the bath wi—ow!”
“Aloe is correct,” Lotus interrupted with a stomp of her hoof. “I will go get her.”
“That is quite alright,” Octavia said, moving toward the door that would let her into the spa. “I will only need a moment of her time.”
Lotus dashed in front of her, blocking Octavia’s path to the door. “I’m very sorry, Miss Melody, but Rarity is very particular about ponies interrupting her bath sessions.”
“Oh yes,” Aloe said, “especially when she’s—mmph!” Octavia looked over and saw that a pillow had hit Aloe in the face. Lyra was standing with her front hooves crossed, staring at the ceiling and whistling. 
“I will go get her right now,” Lotus said, disappearing through the door and closing it behind her.
“Fine by me,” Aloe said, pulling the pillow from her face. “I’ll keep our guests company. So, Miss Melody, how is Vi—”
“Hey, Aloe,” Lyra said nonchalantly, “it’d be a real shame if one of your plants hit you in the face. Mysteriously, of course.”
“Am I missing something?” Octavia asked. Lyra acting strange was nothing new, but the Blossom sisters, while she had never met them before, seemed to be rather odd. Maybe every pony in Ponyville was like this. She had never really visited the town. She had been to Ponyville before, but on those occasions she had spent most of her time at Lyra’s and Bon Bon’s place. 
Still, it felt like everypony was keeping something from her.
Before Octavia could get an answer, the door to the spa opened and Lotus walked back in, followed by a white unicorn wrapped in a bathrobe. For a brief moment, Octavia thought it was Vinyl, but the blue eyes and purple mane quickly dashed that hope. 
Octavia cleared her throat and held out a hoof. “Miss Rarity, I am Octavia Melody.” Just because she was in a hurry to inquire about Vinyl did not mean she could skip on her manners. 
“Oh, uh, what a pleasure to finally meet you in pony!” Rarity said, taking Octavia’s hoof and shaking it once. Her grip was so delicate, but the look on her face suggested that there was something racing through the fashion pony’s mind at the moment. Also, she seemed to be speaking rather loudly.
“The pleasure is mine, I assure you,” Octavia said, careful not to match Rarity’s volume. Perhaps her ears had water in them from the bath. “Meeting two of the ponies in one day who helped defeat those villains is a great honor. And you were quite the talk of Canterlot the last time I was there.”
“Why thank you!” the unicorn replied, and for a moment her face lit up like Canterlot at Hearth’s Warming Eve. “Although I feel the pleasure is all mine, truly. May I take it that you’ll be joining us then?”
“I look forward to it. I do have one question, however.” Octavia began to dig through her saddlebag until she found the flier she had taken from the train station. She pulled it out and held it with her hoof. “It says here that D.J. Pon Three is also involved. Will she be playing with Lyra, myself, and the others?”
Rarity’s eyes went wide. She began to flip her damp mane with her hoof while she looked around the room. “Oh, uh, that?” She laughed once and continued. “That’s just…uh—”
“An old flier,” Lyra said quickly.  “Before we made the changes! We couldn’t get in touch, so, uh…” 
“Yes!” Rarity said. “Yes, that’s it! I haven’t had a chance to draw up some new pamphlets, and with the event the day after tomorrow, there really hasn’t been any time. Every pony in Ponyville is already aware of the change though, so there’s really no need.”
Octavia’s heart fell along with her ears. She folded the flier back up and put it in her saddlebag again. She also noticed that her cello had suddenly become heavier. She found that rather strange, because until right then she had completely forgotten that she was still carrying it.
“I see,” she said as she closed her bag. “You could not reach her? I do not suppose you have heard from her recently, have you?”
“Oh, um, Lyra?” Rarity asked.
“Well I haven’t,” Lyra said, tapping her chest with her hoof. Rarity simply smiled, while Lotus stood next to her sister and occasionally nudged her, mumbling something about a pillow.
“Is there a problem, dear?” Rarity asked. 
“No,” Octavia said, struggling to keep her voice from cracking. “I…simply wished to let you know that Lyra succeeded in convincing me to come. She has shown me the music you wish to play, and I believe I can do it. You probably wish to return to your bath, and Lyra and I really should go practice for a spell. We shall see you later.”
“Oh I can’t wait! It will be smashing!” Rarity said as she waved goodbye.
Once the two musicians were outside, Octavia glared at Lyra. “You could have told me that Vinyl was not involved.”
“Sorry,” Lyra said, avoiding Octavia’s stare. “I thought you wanted to avoid her though. That’s why I didn’t want you to see the flier in the first place. Didn’t want it dragging up feelings you’re trying to set aside for the time being. I didn’t know you actually missed her.”
“I do not miss her!” Octavia said, stamping her hoof in the dirt. She blinked once, stunned by what she had done. “I…I am simply worried about her. I have not heard from her in over a week. I do not want her to do anything rash.”
“Now you know how I feel,” a new voice said from behind the two ponies. Octavia paused for a moment, trying to place the voice. She knew it from somewhere. Lyra, she noted, had gone completely stiff.
A light went on in Octavia's head. Of course! It was Bo—
“Ow! Bon Bon, let go! Ow!”  Octavia turned to see Bon Bon biting Lyra’s ear. “Seriously, Sweetie Dr—” 
“Don’t call me that!” Bon Bon said. She bit down harder and Octavia started to worry that she would draw blood. “And don’t think you’re getting out of this!”
“Hello, Bon Bon,” Octavia said, hoping to divert the mare’s attention slightly. “It is nice to see you again.”
“Hi Octavia,” Bon Bon said, her eyes turning to meet Octavia’s. “Tell me, did you tell Lyra that she should go check in with her wife after you two got off the train?” 
Octavia nodded, knowing that she was about to land her friend in even more trouble. 
Bon Bon’s eyes shifted back to Lyra’s pained face. “What do you know,” she said, her mouth still full of Lyra’s ear. “Octavia even thought of your wife before you. You know, the wife that you left two days ago without saying a word about where you were going? Or even leaving a note? That wife.”
“I had my—ouch, that really hurts!” Lyra pleaded. “I had my cell with me.”
Bon Bon tugged hard on Lyra’s ear, twisting the unicorn’s head in a painful direction. “And you know perfectly well that Ponyville doesn’t support those things, or even have telephones. How did you expect me to get in contact with you?” Bon Bon gave Lyra’s ear one final yank and then let go. 
“Yeah, sorry about that,” Lyra said with a sheepish smile as she rubbed her ear. “I, uh, forgot about that.”
Octavia tilted her head to the side. “Lyra, why do you even have a cell? Now that I think about it, that thing must be fairly useless to you, what with you residing in Ponyville.” Bon Bon had made an excellent point, and Octavia could not believe she had never thought about it until right then. 
“I travel a lot,” Lyra said. “Comes in handy when I go to the bigger cities and need to get in contact with other ponies.”
“Lyra, I was really worried about you,” Bon Bon said. Her ears were flat against her head and tears were glistening in her icy blue eyes. “You can’t do this to me. If Rarity hadn’t told me where you’d gone this time, I…”
Lyra’s expression changed. She slid a hoof around Bon Bon’s neck and pulled her into a hug. “Yeah, I know,” she whispered. “I’m sorry, Sweetie Drops. It’s just, Rarity really needed some help right away, and I was the best pony for the job. It couldn’t wait, and…”
Bon Bon kissed Lyra on the cheek and smiled. “And…?”
Octavia felt extremely embarrassed. She was witnessing a private moment between two ponies that she knew she was not supposed to be an audience to. She tried to distract herself by looking at the sky in an attempt to count how many pegasi there were. Sadly, she only saw two, which made the idea a very poor distraction.
“And…I don’t have a good excuse for not at least leaving you a note. I’m sorry.” Lyra blushed and pulled out of the hug.
“You will be making dinner tonight, cleaning the dishes, giving me a massage, playing your lyre until I say you can stop,” Bon Bon said.
“Okay, I can handle that,” Lyra said with a smile.
“And, you will be sleeping on the couch,” Bon Bon added with a grin.
“But…but what about Octavia?” Lyra asked as she pointed to the cellist. Octavia felt her cheeks become warm. “Where’s she going to sleep?” 
“She will sleep in our bed. With me.” With that, Bon Bon began to walk back to her home, bouncing along and swishing her tail happily while she hummed.
Octavia very much wanted to stick her head in the nearest hole and perish. That was perhaps the most uncomfortable conversations she had ever been a part of. It was certainly one of the most racy. What would Vinyl say in a situation like this…?
“So, um, is she any good?” Octavia’s eyes went wide and her hoof slammed on her mouth, but it was too late. The words had already escaped. 
“What did you say?” Lyra asked, clearly as shocked as Octavia. 
“We shall pretend neither of us ever heard that,” Octavia said. She swore her entire face was on fire now it was so hot. 
“I don’t know, that was pretty good blackmail material right there.”
Octavia rolled her eyes. Lyra would hold that over her head for the rest of her life. And Celestia help her in Vinyl ever found out what she had said. “Can we just get going, please? This cello is rather heavy.”
“Right this way,” Lyra said as she held out a hoof and bowed, pretending there was some sort of magical road leading back to her place. Octavia smiled and began to walk in the direction Bon Bon had gone.
Once they arrived at Lyra’s and Bon Bon’s home, Lyra immediately set to work on preparing dinner. Bon Bon helped Octavia unpack her items and helped clear a place in the living room for her to practice the music that she would be playing. Octavia played a few notes and offered a few suggestions, all of which were ignored by Lyra as she hurried about, trying to cook. It smelled like something eatable, but after the third crash, Bon Bon rolled her eyes and walked in to help the unicorn. Ten minutes later, a tasty, if somewhat burnt, dinner was being enjoyed by the three ponies. 
After dinner, Bon Bon relented and allowed Lyra to practice her music with Octavia. She disappeared into the house, telling them that she had a surprise for both of them, but that they should start playing anyway. 
“Do you have any idea what she’s planning?” Lyra asked as she sat down and laid her lyre on her lap. 
“No,” Octavia replied as she cradled her cello on her shoulder. “She is your wife. If you do not know, it is highly unlikely that I would.”
“Yeah, I guess.” Lyra shrugged and picked her instrument up with her magic, the golden glow gently flowing around the lyre. Without another word, she plucked one of the strings, and then another and another. Octavia joined her on the fourth note, blending her cello’s tunes with her friend’s music.
The sounds danced in the air, twirling around each other in an intricate dance that was only visible in Octavia’s mind. She closed her amethyst eyes and saw the music rising and falling like the tides around Manehattan. She could sense Lyra’s subtle changes as she made her own, keeping the music alive and ever-changing, but always flowing with seamless grace. She knew they had long since left the sheet music they were meant to be practicing, but she did not mind. That music was simple and would not require much to learn. All she wanted to do now was play her own music. 
It washed through her, gently breaking down the tensions that had burdened her. Her body felt more alive than it had in weeks. She smiled as she pulled her bow across the cello’s strings, making each note sing in the air and resonate through her ears. She ran it back and forth with rapid grace next, letting her inner turmoil poor onto the strings and bleed from her mind. Lyra joined her, playing notes that fell lower and lower with each stroke. Then she struck a high chord, one that rang through Octavia’s soul and she slowed her own playing again, carefully bringing the tune out of the darkness and into the promise of a new morning. She opened her eyes, a cheerful smile gracing her face, and suddenly stopped, hitting the wrong cord as she did.
The sour note caused Lyra to jump and nearly drop her lyre. “What was that?”
Octavia simply pointed to the hallway and Lyra’s jaw dropped.
“Don’t stop on my account,” Bon Bon said. “You two were playing such a beautiful song.”
“T…Thank you,” Octavia said, still staring at Bon Bon.
“It had nothing on you though,” Lyra said, finally regaining enough control of her face to close her mouth. 
It was true. Bon Bon was dressed in a dazzling dress. It was a dark blue, matching the color of her mane. The sleeves up front went down to the middle of her forelegs, puffing out slightly with a mint green finish. A soft green trim ran along the base of the dress. Its pattern was arranged to look like gently rounded hills that rose and fell in perfect rhythm.  At the top of each hill was a golden topaz that sparkled every time she shifted her weight, giving the illusion that she was walking on gold dust. 
The dress was cut low in front, drawing Octavia’s eyes to the silk wrap Bon Bon had draped around her neck. It covered what the dress did not and was a mix of pink and blue, with little pink tassels hanging off the edge of it. It seemed to almost flow around her body instead of hang on it.
“Careful Lyra,” Bon Bon said with a smile. “You’re telling.”
Octavia managed to tear her gaze away from Bon Bon and look at the unicorn. The magic holding her lyre had gone from gold to a yellow-cream color, a clear sign that Lyra’s mind was distracted. Octavia decided that being a unicorn did come with its own set of unique problems. 
Lyra coughed and dropped her lyre on the couch, avoiding both Octavia’s and Bon Bon’s eyes. “I, uh…I…”
“Don’t you need to do the dishes?” Bon Bon asked, blinking slowly. 
“Do…do I have to? Didn’t you want a massage?”
“Lyra.”
“Oh, all right.” The unicorn got up from the couch and walked into the kitchen, hanging her head and trying to look forlorn. Bon Bon giggled and walked over to the couch. She sat down, careful not the wrinkle her dress as she did, and patted the seat beside her. Octavia carefully laid her cello against the couch and sat down.
“Do you like it?” Bon Bon asked. “Rarity made it for me. She wants me to be in the fashion show.”
“It is very lovely, Bon Bon,” Octavia said. She glanced over the dress again, still marveling at its appearance. “Lyra likes it as well.”
Bon Bon made a face. “She’s lucky I let her see it. I was so mad at her for disappearing that I was considering chaining her to the bedpost to keep her here.”
“So…I take it I will not be sleeping with you?” Octavia asked, not sure how to respond to a threat like that. “I mean, if you intend to chain her to the bed, that may be a bit…uncomfortable for me.”
“Is that disappointment I hear?” Bon Bon asked with a gleam in her eyes. 
“What?! No!” Octavia said quickly.
Bon Bon’s ears dropped and her eyes looked away. “Don’t you like what you see?”
“No!” Octavia said. “I…I mean, yes! I mean, you look very beautiful but—” She stopped once Bon Bon started giggling. “You are teasing me.”
“Maybe just a little. Lyra told me while she was burning dinner that you’ve been a little down lately. I thought I’d try to cheer you up.”
Octavia smiled and felt a tear swell in her eye. “Thank you, Bon Bon.” She paused, a thought suddenly crossing her mind. She had been too self-conscious earlier to mention it, but it had been in the back of her mind for a while and saying Bon Bon’s name brought it to the forefront. 
“Why did Lyra call you Sweetie Drops? Is it a…pet name?”
Bon Bon blushed, the color in her cheeks almost matching the pink that ran through her mane. “You…you heard that?” Octavia nodded, feeling like she was intruding on sacred ground. “No, it’s not a pet name. It’s…it’s my real name. Only a few ponies know it. Lyra’s the only pony in Ponyville that knows it.”
“But why do you not use your real name?”
“Ponies used to tease me about my name. They called me Sweaty Drops when I was a filly. I got so nervous whenever I had to talk in front of the class that I started sweating pretty badly.” A tear ran down Bon Bon’s cheek and she quickly wiped it away. “So I started to go by Bon Bon, after my favorite candy. And it just sort of…stuck. It took me a long time before I trusted Lyra enough to tell her.”
“Why? She is your wife,” Octavia said.
“She wasn’t always, silly,” Bon Bon said. “And come on now. You know what Lyra’s like. She can be…difficult to get along with. She tends to think with her feelings more often than her head, and a lot of ponies take that as a lack of tact on her part. She comes off as rude very often. And you’ve seen us argue before. I didn’t want her teasing me about my name, or using it against me. I don’t think I told her until we’d been together for two years and things had gotten…intimate.”
Octavia blushed and her mind raced to find something to say. “How do you do it?” she asked.
“Well, Lyra likes to be on the bottom. There’s a lot of kissing and touching involved, and when you know where to—”
“That is not what I meant!” Octavia said. Her face felt like it was about to burn away and it itched fiercely. 
“I didn’t think so,” Bon Bon said with a giggle. “You mean how have we not torn each other apart?”
“Yes,” Octavia said, looking away. This conversation was steering down a road that she did not want it to. She was starting to wish she had kept it on that other topic. It may have embarrassed her, but at least it would not hurt like this one was starting to. 
“It’s simple,” Bon Bon said as she looked toward the kitchen. The sound of running water and banging dishes drifted into the living room. “Yes, we fight. The fighting actually helps in some cases. Sometimes emotions need to be given words, not wrapped up and hidden behind polite conversations or locked away to rot.” 
A loud crash came from the kitchen and Bon Bon smiled softly. “We tend to have our different worlds a lot of the time. But neither one of us can picture our world without the other in it.”
“Dishes are done!” Lyra shouted. Octavia looked up and the green unicorn came trotting out of the kitchen, a smile spreading across her face and her eyes gleaming with excitement. “Now, about that massage…”
“Oh, Octavia offered to give it to me,” Bon Bon said with a wave of her hoof. “Since she’ll be with me and you’ll be on the couch.” She looked at the cellist and winked.
The expression on Lyra’s face was so pitiful that Octavia felt genuine sorrow for her friend. 
“Yes,” she said, trying not to laugh. “Bon Bon was very good company while you were doing the dishes, and I wanted to enjoy more of it.”
Lyra’s mouth fell open, again, as she looked between the two ponies. “This…this is some sort of sick joke, right? Did Discord get to you two or something?”
“No, Honey Drops,” Bon Bon said and Lyra’s face winced as she caught Bon Bon’s meaning. “Just getting you back for leaving me. Now go to bed. I’ll be along in a moment.”
“Right!” With that, Lyra bolted down the hall, calling over her shoulder for Bon Bon to leave the dress on because she wanted to be the one to take it off. 
“Honey Drops?” Octavia asked.
“My nickname for her, after her magic’s original color. I only use it when I’m trying to make a point though.” Bon Bon stood and walked to the hall closet. She returned with a pillow balanced on her back and a blanket in her mouth. “Follow me. The guest room’s down the hall.”
“I thought I was sleeping on the couch,” Octavia said as she took the blanket and followed Bon Bon down the hall and into the room.
“Of course not!” Bon Bon said. “If anypony was to actually sleep on the couch, it would be that unicorn. Maybe tomorrow night she can, but I’ve missed her too much to make her sleep out here tonight. Have a good night, and we’ll see you in the morning.”
When the door closed, Octavia was left alone with her thoughts again. Bon Bon’s words rang in her head. Lyra and Bon Bon were often oil and water in many cases. Lyra’s constant free-spirited antics and wanderlust caused no end of worry for Bon Bon. In turn, Bon Bon’s attitude and need to keep Lyra in check was often the cause for Lyra drowning herself in hard cider on some nights.
But the two were part of each other's worlds, and neither wanted that to change. Their relationship gained strength from their differences, not weakened because of them.
As Octavia tucked herself in and began to drift off to sleep, she wondered if she could see her world without Vinyl in it. The past week had given her a glimpse of such a world, especially the past few days. Her mind told her that it was the world she needed to live in. The pain that Vinyl caused was too much for her to take. Her world would be better off without the D.J. in it, or at least being such a major part of it.
That was what her mind told her. She just was not sure if she believed it anymore. After this fashion show performance, she would need to find Vinyl and find out for certain.
	
> I'm Nothing But A Joke
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Vinyl felt horrible. Well, maybe not horrible. Terrible seemed to fit better. Nervous maybe? Or sick. Maybe that was right. Uncomfortable also seemed like a good word too.  
She wasn’t sure what word she was feeling, but she knew she wasn’t feeling good. 
Yesterday had been non-stop practice and set up for Rarity’s—and Vinyl’s too—fashion show. However, unlike last time when Vinyl had just spent a bit of time setting up her rig and then she was good to go, this show had required a lot more work. 
Rarity had had a few stallions come over to help her set up the stage. Vinyl had helped a little with the wiring for the lights, but most of her day had been spent inside, once again trying on dozens of outfits and having Rarity poke, stab, stitch, yank, and twist Vinyl in dozens of ways. After the unicorn had picked out an outfit, one that Vinyl had to admit looked pretty good on her, Rarity had spent the next few hours teaching Vinyl how to walk and stand for the show. 
Vinyl hadn’t understood why she needed to practice for hours when she was only going to be on stage for maybe thirty seconds. It had tired her out to the point where she had been the one to suggest going back to the Blossom sisters’ spa in the evening. Rarity had happily agreed.
And then the big day had arrived. Vinyl had spent most of today boxed up in Rarity’s shop. Rarity had been dashing around everywhere, putting finishing touches on gowns and welcoming the ponies that had agreed to be in her show. Vinyl saw a few she recognized, but she had made a conscious effort to avoid them. She didn’t want them to see her shaking. 
The show was starting in thirty minutes. Vinyl could hear the ponies gathering outside around the hoof-built stage. She had been to countless gigs, performed in front of hundreds of ponies, and done things in public that would have made other ponies die of embarrassment. So why the buck was she freaking out so bad over a stupid fashion show?
“Be cool, Vinyl,” she whispered to herself. She reached up and tried to pull her sunglasses down, but her hoof only found air. She was reminded, again, that Rarity had insisted that Vinyl take them off. Apparently they didn’t go well with her gown. 
Vinyl looked at a mirror and decided that Rarity had a point. She was dressed in a flowing silk dress. It was mostly grey and went further up Vinyl’s chest than she liked, but at least it allowed her to breathe. She didn’t feel like she had been stuffed inside the outfit so much as it was flowing around her, allowing her to move with almost as much freedom as she normally did. 
The fabric was laced with tiny purple stones. They were really small, to the point where most ponies wouldn’t be able to tell what color they were individually. Rarity had said that had been a deliberate choice. Only ponies who looked closely at Vinyl would notice them. The rest would just see the light sparkling off the dress whenever she walked. 
Rarity had also given her some rather fancy shoes, or maybe they were closer to boots. Vinyl wasn’t sure what they were, fashion being so far out of her realm of understanding that it wasn’t even in her universe. They were a satin black that went up the side of her hooves. The dress covered the ones in the back, but the ones up front were fully visible. If Vinyl hadn’t been wearing a dress, she would have decided that she looked hot in them. Instead, she wasn’t sure how she looked. Beautiful maybe? Did she do beautiful? Rarity had insisted that she did, right after she had finished styling Vinyl’s hair into…whatever it was that Vinyl was wearing it as now.  Instead of being spiky and free, Rarity had brushed the electric blue mane into a flowing current, smooth and graceful, so that it complemented Vinyl’s eyes instead of hiding them.
Yes, Vinyl decided as she stared at her reflection, this is what I asked for. Rarity had said she could be a model, and Vinyl had asked Rarity to make her into a pony worthy of Canterlot. Rarity had chuckled at that request, but Vinyl decided that she’d done a fantastic job. 
It was just too bad that she felt like she was wearing a stranger’s skin. Still, if she could show that she had class, maybe Octavia would finally talk to her again.
“No,” Vinyl said, shaking her head. “I’m not doing that. Not now.” She wasn’t about to let her thoughts go down that road. This show was too important to Rarity, and the unicorn had said that Vinyl was going to be the star. She’d already messed up one pony’s important moment because of her selfishness. She wasn’t about to let that happen again. She was going to stay focused on making Rarity’s show the talk of Ponyville. 
“Vinyl?” a voice asked. “Vinyl Scratch, is that you?”
Oh no. Vinyl recognized that voice. She closed her eyes and braced herself as she turned around, waiting for the laughter to start. 
“Vinyl, you look…”
“Go ahead, get it—ouch!” Vinyl closed her mouth as the last part of her outfit pinched her. That was the only thing she didn’t care for about her outfit. Rarity had insisted that Vinyl wear a bridle, since this show was based on Saddle Arabian culture. Vinyl had agreed, but she was noticing that none of the other models were wearing them, including the one talking to her now.
“S'up, Bon Bon,” Vinyl said, careful on how she said each word so the bridle wouldn’t pinch her again. “Uh, I mean, greetings, Bon Bon. A pleasure to see you.”
Bon Bon looked at her and raised an eyebrow. “Okay…I was going to say you look lovely—”
“Why thank you,” Vinyl swallowed, forcing out the next word, “dear. You do as well.” And Vinyl found that she actually meant it. Bon Bon’s dress would certainly turn a lot of heads if she walked down Manehattan’s streets in it. Heads that Lyra would no doubt rip off in a matter of seconds.
“But now I’m more curious as to who you are and what you’ve done with Vinyl,” Bon Bon finished. There was a hint of a smile on her face, and Vinyl couldn’t tell if it was from amusement or mockery. 
“Why, I am Vinyl,” Vinyl said. “Who else do you think could look this good? Uh, I mean—”
“Vinyl, why are you talking like that?”
Vinyl sighed and looked at the floor. Damn, her boots looked good on her. Focus! “I’m trying to have some class. You know, be fancy and all that for the show.”
Bon Bon giggled and covered her mouth with her hoof. “By acting like a stuffed shirt from Canterlot?”
Vinyl felt her cheeks go crimson and lowered her ears against the side of her head. “Um…yes?”
“You and Octavia had another fight then,” Bon Bon said. It wasn’t a question. 
“Did Lyra tell you that?” Vinyl asked, for once thankful that she was wearing the bridle. Otherwise, she was certain she might have made a face, or even snarled slightly, when she had said the unicorn’s name. 
“No,” Bon Bon said as she ran a hoof through her styled mane, “uh…I just…sort of guessed. It must have been pretty bad for you to try to change your entire character.”
Vinyl shrugged. “What choice do I have? She doesn’t like the old me, so I figured I’d try to be more like—ugh! This thing is so annoying!” Vinyl tugged at the bridle and almost ripped it off, but she remembered how much work Rarity had put into it. She could bear it for another half hour or so.
“Vinyl, I don’t think changing yourself completely is the right—”
“Vinyl, darling, there you are!” Both ponies looked over and saw Rarity trotting toward them, a smile beaming from her face. While every other pony was dressed head to hoof in stunning outfits, Rarity had nothing on. Still, she carried herself with more grace that anypony else and everypony graciously stepped aside as she walked by. “Are you ready for tonight?”
“Rarity, why do I have to wear this?” Vinly asked. She tugged at the bridle again, but it snapped back against her muzzle and she yelped.
“It’s part of the outfit, dear,” Rarity said as she walked up. She used her magic to adjust the bridle and Vinyl did her best not to wince.
“But—ow—but why? These things make it really hard to talk.”
“That’s the point, dear.” Rarity said.
“Um, Rarity, I know Vinyl can be, well, Vinyl, but don’t you think that’s a little mean?” Bon Bon asked as she giggled again. Vinyl rolled her eyes and remained silent, reminding herself that a pony with class would let a cheap shot like that slide.
“Oh, no, that’s not what I meant.” Rarity’s eyes went wide. “Not at all. I asked the delegates from Saddle Arabia why they were wearing them when they came here. They said it was to keep themselves mindful of how they spoke. They were representing their country, and so they took steps to make sure they didn’t embarrass themselves. They said that having the bridles in place made them choose their words carefully and keep their expressions in check. They did not want to accidently insult the Princess or something like that. Apparently is a common custom over there.”
“But why do I have to be the only pony that wears one?” Vinyl asked. Sure, she probably had the least amount of grace out of everypony in this show, but it still felt rather insulting being singled out.
“Who says you are?” Rarity asked, a look of confusion crossing her face.
“Uh…the fact that no other pony is wearing one?” Vinyl asked. She was confused now. She double-checked to make sure she was right. Yep. No other pony was wearing a bridle. 
“That’s because the show hasn’t started yet,” Bon Bon said. “You said it yourself. Those things aren’t the most comfortable to wear, even if they do look nice. Everypony else is waiting until the curtain rises to slip theirs on.” To prove her point, Bon Bon pulled her own bridle out of a pocket in her dress and showed it to Vinyl. “I was wondering why you were wearing yours, actually.”
“You mean…but I thought...” Vinyl looked between the two ponies as they started to laugh. “But you said I should get everything ready ahead of time!”
Rarity opened her mouth to respond, but was interrupted by a loud crash. All three of them jumped and turned to see what had caused the noise. 
“Oh, there you are, Miss Rarity,” a grey pegasus said. She was tangled in some rolls of fabric and was struggling to free her wings, but she had a huge smile on her face. “I just wanted to let you know that I delivered your letter in pony, just like you asked.” 
“Why thank you, Miss Hooves,” Rarity said, dashing over to the struggling pony. Vinyl and Bon Bon walked over as well and together they helped the delivery mare untangle herself. Rarity seemed awfully nervous in the grey mare’s presence. Maybe it was because she seemed to be a walking disaster zone inside the shop, and Vinyl knew how much of a perfectionist Rarity was when it came to her designs.
“And what letter was that, Derpy?” Bon Bon asked as she helped the pegasus stand up and brush off her wings. 
The pony with the blonde mane smiled with pride. “An invitation to this fashion show! Rarity asked me to deliver it to a Miss Octavia Melody.”
“Octavia?” Vinyl asked, her eyes lighting up at the pony’s name. So Rarity had really done that for her? Sweet!
“Yep. It wasn’t easy though. I got all the way to Manehattan, but she wasn’t there.”
“Oh, uh…you don’t say,” Rarity said. She and Bon Bon were suddenly looking very nervous, but Vinyl hardly noticed. Derpy said she had delivered the letter. That meant that Octavia might be here tonight!
“I do say,” Derpy said. “I asked around, and some of her friends told me she had left for Ponyville a few days ago. Imagine how shocked I was when I got back here and found her walking down the street tonight. I just gave it to her as she was coming up to your show. I think she already—”
“She’s here?” Vinyl shouted, causing several other ponies to look at her and the bridle to bite down on her mouth a little too hard. She didn’t care though. Octavia was here! Vinyl would finally get to see her! She’d show the cellist that she had class and that she could be a better pony! She’d do it right now in fact!
Vinyl started to move toward the exit when Rarity stepped in front of her. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“I’ve gotta see her!” Vinyl said, trying to slip past.
“Absolutely not!” Rarity replied, stomping her hoof on the floor. “A model cannot be seen by the public in her outfit until the show starts.”
“But—”
“Vinyl, Rarity’s right,” Bon Bon said. She put a hoof on Vinyl’s shoulder and gently held her in place. “Besides, imagine how impressed Octavia will be with you when she sees you out on stage.”
Reluctantly, Vinyl admitted they were right. She stopped struggling and sighed. Octavia was here. She’d be in the audience, and Vinyl was certain she’d stay around once she saw Vinyl. Vinyl would make sure that she shined in the show tonight. She’d be the most graceful, elegant pony out of all of them. Hopefully that would show Octavia how sorry she was, and maybe the cellist would finally forgive her.
“Okay, fine,” she said. “When are we starting then?”
“In just a few minutes.” Rarity cleared her throat and addressed the models gathered in the main room of her shop. “Okay, everypony. The show will be starting in five minutes. Please make any final adjustments and put your bridles on.” There were several groans at that remark, but Rarity silenced them with a look. “Line up in the order we all practiced, and try to remember you cues. Once the music starts, just do what we’ve been practicing. However, the most important thing tonight is that everypony has fun. Good luck!” Rarity then turned to Derpy and smiled sweetly. “Miss Hooves, I’m afraid I must ask you to come with me. You can’t be back here once we start.”
“Okay Miss Rarity.” Derpy began walking toward the exit but accidently knocked down one of Rarity’s maniquins. “Oops. I just—”
“Quickly, Miss Hooves, this way.” Rarity ushered the mare out the side door, shot Bon Bon a quick look, and then she was gone. 
If Vinyl had been nervous before, she was now driving herself up the walls with anxiety. Her dress no longer breathed, but felt like it was constricting around her throat. Her boots felt too small and she constantly tapped them against the floor, trying to loosen them. The bridle was biting into her muzzle and her entire face was itching painfully. She was suddenly fully aware of her hair and found herself worrying about it. Was it still straight? Did she still look presentable? What if she tripped on stage? Her legs were shaking so badly that she feared that might actually happen. Was she sweating? Oh Celestia, she was sweating! What if she stained the dress, or made it stick to her flank because of that? What if—
A noise suddenly rang through the air and Vinyl jumped. “What was that?”
“The music,” Bon Bon whispered. “The show’s starting. Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” Vinyl said. “Yeah, I’m good. I’m…oh Celestia, what if she doesn’t like the way I look? What if she gets up and leaves right in front of me? What if she still doesn’t want to talk to me after—”
“Sssh,” Bon Bon said as she put a hoof on Vinyl’s mouth. “It’s okay, Vinyl. I’m sure Octavia wants to see you, and you look lovely, especially in those colors.” Bon Bon smiled, but Vinyl just blinked in confusion. “Now take a deep breath and relax. We’re going on in a few minutes.”  
Vinyl did as Bon Bon suggested. She closed her eyes and took several deep breaths. They helped, but her mind was still turning faster than her turntable. She needed something to distract herself.
The music! It was a bit muffled, but she could still hear it. It was mostly strings by the sound of it. It wasn’t a tune she recognized, but she still found it soothing. She closed her eyes again so she could hear it better. It sounded exotic, and visions of faraway lands began to play through her mind. She saw rolling deserts and beautiful oases. Violent sand storms with fierce beauty and gentle breezes that painted the sands drifted through her consciousness. Colors danced through her mind, greens and blues contrasted with oranges and browns. She saw herself walking across the desert, her satin boots sinking slightly into the sand with each step. Her dress swayed gently against her body, keeping the sand from embedding itself in her coat. The stones gave just enough weight to keep the dress from blowing away, but not enough to feel like extra weight.
The tone changed, going lower and deeper, and Vinyl was suddenly walking down a dune, heading toward a body of stunningly blue water. With each step, the notes fell, until the music had become just a whisper as she stood before the pool. She stared at her reflection, and then the pond rippled with a new note. Vinyl raised her head from the pool, focusing on the note. It sounded familiar. It played again, and Vinyl strained her ears, trying to figure out why she recognized the sound. A third time it played, and Vinyl’s eyes snapped open, yanking her violently out of her music dream.
A cello! The notes were being played on a cello! Vinyl knew only one pony who could play a cello like that. Octavia was not only here, but she was also playing in Vinyl’s show! Vinyl had no idea how Rarity had convinced the cellist to play in the show, but she made a mental note to thank the unicorn. 
Octavia had to have forgiven her now, right? She was playing for a show that Vinyl had worked so hard to put on. Sure, Rarity had done most of the work, but Vinyl had been a big help too.  Rarity had said so. She was suddenly very proud of the fact that her name was listed on the event flier. It felt just like the first time she had seen her stage name on display at a club, or seeing Octavia’s name in a newspaper announcing her upcoming gig. This was real, and this was happening. Octavia was out there playing for her!
“Vinyl, are you alright?” Bon Bon whispered. 
“Buck yeah!” Vinyl said, a bit too loudly according to the pinch her bridle gave her. She made another mental note to try to tone down the swearing. She was still trying to prove that she had some class, but that didn’t seem as important now as it had a few moments ago. “I mean, yes.”
“Are you sure? You have tears in your eyes.”
Vinyl blinked. Sure enough, tears rolled down her cheeks. She brushed them away and smiled. “I’m just really happy, I guess. How much longer until I go on?”
“Well, my turn is coming up next, and you’re after me, so…five minutes I suppose?”
“What, really?” Vinyl looked around, trying to ignore the bridle tugging at her muzzle. “What about all the other ponies who…?” There wasn’t a single other pony in the room with them. “Where did they all go?”
“Everypony has already finished. You and I are the last two. You were enjoying the music so much that you missed it.” Bon Bon turned her head as the music shifted. “Well, that’s my cue. I’ll see you after the show.”
“Right.” Vinyl watched as Bon Bon walked through the door and suddenly she was all alone. She rocked back and forth on her hooves for a few moments, waiting for the music to signal her turn. She counted the seconds, struggling to keep herself calm as she begged the music to hit the right note and tell her to—
There it was! 
With a smile on her face, Vinyl walked through the door Bon Bon had gone through moments before. She found herself backstage and saw Bon Bon finishing up her own run. When she was safely back behind the curtain and out of view of the crowd, she looked over her shoulder, smiled, and gave Vinyl a little wave from across the stage. Vinyl nodded back and Bon Bon went through the door that led into the dressing rooms where all the other models were waiting. They were all going to go out a second time, and that was where Rarity had asked them to gather.
Vinyl took another deep breath. She didn’t hear Octavia’s cello anymore, but she hadn’t heard it in the beginning either. It was possible that she just didn’t have a part in Vinyl’s musical theme, but she was no doubt still sitting with the rest of the players. 
Vinyl took one final breath and rounded the curtain, stepping on to the runway in perfect timing with the music. Each one of her steps fell with the exact note it was meant to. She held her head up and at an angle, her eyes half closed as she focused straight ahead. Ponies cheered and stomped their hooves on the ground as she walked along the stage. She reached the end and turned sideways with the fierce subtlety that Rarity had taught her. She stared into the crowd and blinked once, then allowed a small grin to sneak across her face. More ponies cheered, but she had stopped basking in their praise. She was doing her best to scan the crowd, trying to find where the musicians were, where Octavia would be…
There! Vinyl’s eyes fell on a familiar green unicorn playing a harp—no, wait, a lyre—and Vinyl frantically searched the area. She only had a few seconds before she needed to turn and head back. She saw Lyra, Octavia’s cousin Fiddlesticks, one of Octavia’s band mates, other ponies she didn’t recognize...where was Octavia?
Vinyl’s eyes fell on an empty chair in the middle of the band. A cello case was resting against it, closed and locked. 
Vinyl’s world broke around her. It shattered. It disintegrated. It vaporized. Turned to ash and dust. It ceased to exist at all. 
The cheering ponies became silent to her mind. The music no longer reached her ears. The sheer joy she had been feeling moments before as she strutted down the runway vanished into the pit in her heart. She saw nothing but that empty chair with the cello case. The tears that had, only moments before, been tears of joy now threatened to become ones of anguish. 
Was this what it felt like? This...agony that made the pain of the past few weeks seemed like nothing but a scraped knee? This hollow feeling that swallowed up any other emotion, even grief, to the point where tears seemed useless? Was this what Vinyl had done to Octavia on the night of her concert? And all those other times? Celestia, how had Octavia dealt with it so many times?
Vinyl had worked so hard these past few days, and the thought of Octavia seeing her tonight, seeing all her hard work and effort, had filled her with pride. But that empty chair ruined all of it. Suddenly, all the hard work felt wasted. None of it mattered because that one single chair was empty.
Octavia had been here. She was still here actually, because she’d never leave her cello behind, but she had chosen to deliberately miss Vinyl’s appearance. That was it then. No matter what Vinyl tried, Octavia never wanted to speak to or see her again.
Vinyl almost hung her head, but the last part of her ruined mind screamed that she couldn’t let Rarity down. Fighting back tears, she turned—missing her music cue by only a few seconds—and walked back up the runway. She turned left, following the exit path that all the other ponies had taken, and found herself in Carousel Boutique’s dressing rooms. 
All the other models were talking amongst themselves, complimenting each other and laughing, getting ready for the encore that Rarity had planned. Vinyl didn’t even look at them. She stared at the ground and made her way toward the nearest dressing room.
A hoof reached out and gently tapped her shoulder. “Vinyl, is—”
“Leave me alone, Bon Bon,” Vinyl said, brushing the hoof off and continuing toward the dressing room. She was in no mood to talk, and she feared that if she even tried she would be reduced to a puddle of tears. She needed to get to that dressing room.
She reached the room and closed the door, making sure she locked it. She looked up at her reflection in the mirror.
The tears were there, but they weren’t streaming down her face. They simply rested in her eyes, occasionally falling when she blinked. Her eyes were red and hollow, as if she hadn’t slept in days. Her face looked haggard, with bags hanging under her eyes and her coat stretched tight over her muzzle. The bridle, which before had given her a certain look of elegance, now made her look like a chained animal. Her mane looked as though it had been popped. It no longer retained the elegance that Rarity had put so much work into. The dress seemed to look less beautiful, now appearing as nothing more than a dirty rag wrapped around a worn out pony. Even the purple stones, which had dazzled just moments before, looked like nothing more than cheap pieces of broken glass.
“This is who I am,” Vinyl said as she stared at her reflection. “A useless, good-for-nothing pony who thought she could be something else. What a joke.” She closed her eyes hard and the tears broke free, racing down her cheeks. She understood now. No wonder Octavia never wanted to speak with her again. If this was the pain that Vinyl caused her every time she missed one of her performances...How had Octavia put up with her for so long? Vinyl swore that, if given the chance, she’d never miss another of Octavia’s performances, but she knew that chance would never come. It was over.
“I’m nothing but a joke,” she said as she began to cry softly to herself. 
	
> I Am Me And You Are You
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	“And then, me and Applejack and Apple Bloom went campin’! Well, not real campin’ cause we had this show to do tonight. We actually just pitched a tent and camped in her backyard.” Octavia smiled and nodded as her cousin continued to ramble. She looked at Lyra for help, but the unicorn just smiled and shrugged. 
“I am glad you had a good time with your cousin,” Octavia said. 
“Well yeah,” Fiddlesticks said with a grin, “but I’m happy that I get to spend time with my favoritist cousin!” Fiddlesticks threw one of her front legs around Octavia’s neck—for probably the tenth time in the past day—and gave her a hug. “And we get to play together! I’m so excited! Aren’t you excited, Octy?”
Octavia gently pushed her cousin off her neck and straightened her mane. “I am, Fiddlesticks. I always enjoy playing with you.”
“Yippie!” The yellow mare jumped up and down several times. “And we got Lyra here too! Is Vinyl joinin’ too? It can be all four of us just like—”
“I’m afraid Vinyl won’t be joining us tonight, Fiddlesticks,” Lyra said quickly. “She’s…unavailable to play.”
“Oh, that’s too bad,” Fiddlesticks replied, her ears drooping a little. 
“It just means you’ll have to play extra well to make up for her, okay?”
Fiddlestick’s smile returned instantly. “You bet! Me and Octy will give everypony such a show that they’ll think her song was just a warm up.”
Octavia flinched at the mention of her song. She cared deeply for her cousin, but sometimes the mare spoke without thinking. Of course, she had no idea about Octavia’s current situation, so Octavia decided she could not be too upset with the violin player. At least Lyra was trying to steer the conversation away from such unpleasant things. 
“So I take it that means you’ve been practicing your part?” Lyra asked.
Fiddlesticks made a face. “You have to ask?”
“I am certain you have been,” Octavia answered. “Lyra and I have been practicing for the past day as well.”
“I know, Octy,” Fiddlesticks said with a pout. “I was there, remember?”
“Were you?” Octavia asked, winking at Lyra, “I did not notice.”
“Must have missed you too,” Lyra said. “I thought you said you’d blow everypony away, but if we don’t even remember you at practice…”
“That’s mean!” Fiddlesticks said.
“Calm down, Fiddlesticks,” Octavia said, gently ruffling her cousin’s mane. “We are only teasing you. You did a fantastic job at practice and I am certain you will do even better tonight.” 
Fiddlesticks beamed with pride and began to skip down the street. Lyra smiled and walked after her, calling for her to wait up. Octavia remained behind, reminded once again of the fact that her cello seemed to weigh more than she remembered. Perhaps she was ill? Maybe that was why she was having trouble caring it. After this performance, she decided that she would need to make an appointment to see a physician. Naturally, she would have to track down Vinyl first though.
Vinyl… 
Octavia found her thoughts wandering again to the unicorn with the white coat and the blue mane. Ever since Bon Bon’s talk the other night, Vinyl had been consuming more and more of Octavia’s thoughts. It was becoming a battle to stay focused on her music and the notes that Rarity wanted her to play. She was glad that Rarity’s show was starting within the hour, because she was not certain if she could bear another day of distraction. She needed to find Vinyl soon, if only to make sure the D.J. was okay. 
“See? I told you she would forget all about us,” a voice said, snapping Octavia out of her thoughts. She blinked and looked to her left. She knew that voice, but her mind was telling her it was not possible for it to be in Ponyville. 
And yet, there stood the stallion who owned the voice.
“Harpo?” Octavia asked, startled to see her friends in Ponyville. “Beauty Brass and Fredric?”
“She remembers us just fine, Harpo,” Beauty Brass said. She walked forward and gave Octavia a quick hug. “It’s so good to see you again, dear.”
Octavia hugged her friend back, using the moment to allow her mind to catch up to what her eyes were seeing. “Likewise, but what are you all doing here?”
“Miss Rarity asked me to play,” Harpo said. He held out an invite that looked similar to the one Octavia had received earlier in the week. “You are not the only one who plays a stringed instrument.” He smiled, and Octavia knew that he was simply teasing her in his own strange way. 
“That is fantastic,” Octavia said, her heart lifting slightly at the sight of her friends, “but the show starts in under an hour. Lyra, Fiddlesticks, and myself were just on our way to Rarity’s shop. Have you had time to practice?”
“Miss Rarity was kind enough to include a copy of the sheet music with the invitation,” Harpo said.
“He was practicing during the entire ride from Manehattan,” Fredric added. “Trust me, he is in prime condition now.”
“I think even I could play it now I’ve heard it so many times,” Beauty Brass said with a roll of her eyes.
“Not nearly as well as me,” Harpo said.
“Certainly not,” Octavia said. She chuckled and covered her mouth with her hoof. It was good to see her friends again. Lyra, Bon Bon, and even Fiddlesticks had been great company over the past few days, but she still missed her Manehattan friends. Now she just needed one more pony and then everything would be…what? If Vinyl suddenly appeared before her right that moment, what would she say? She honestly had no idea, and that thought bothered her. 
“We had best hurry,” Octavia said, trying to keep her mind off of such unpleasant thoughts. “Rarity may be rather cross with us if we are late.”
“Miss Melody!” a voice called. All four ponies stopped and looked around, trying to find the source of the voice. It called again, and Octavia looked up into the evening sky. The voice was coming from somewhere above her.
“Down here,” she said, waving her hoof in the air. She was not sure if she was waving at whomever was calling her, but she hoped that whoever it was would be able to spot her.
A grey pegasus landed in front of her. She looked a little winded and her eyes were crossed. Still, there was something about the way she carried herself and the smile that beamed from her face that made her look extremely friendly, even if she was gasping for air. 
“Ah, here you are,” the pegasus said between breaths. “I…have a letter…for you.”
“Derpy?” Beauty Brass said in shock.
“What?” The grey mare looked up and blinked her yellow eyes once and then she smiled even more, something Octavia did not think was possible. “Oh, hey music ponies! What are you all doing here? Last time I saw you, you were all in Manehattan.”
“We took the train, dear,” Beauty Brass said. “Please tell me you did not fly all the way back here.”
“Well, yeah,” Derpy said with a confused look. “You said Octavia had left for Ponyville, so I needed to get back here right away. Rarity said it was very important that I deliver the letter.”
“Derpy,” Fredric said, “I think what she’s saying is, why did you not simply take the train like we did? After you gave Harpo his letter, you could have road the train to Ponyville with us and not worn yourself out.”
Derpy paused, a perplexed look on her face. “I didn’t think of that,” she said after a moment. “I’ll have to remember that next time. Besides, I needed to get back here as fast as I could after you all told me Octavia was here.”
None of the ponies had the heart to tell the pegasus that she could have made the trip in the same amount of time if she had just ridden the train. Instead, Octavia smiled and asked, “You said you have a letter for me?”
“Oh yes!” Derpy said, her eyes lighting up. She dug through her saddlebag and came up with a familiar looking piece of paper in her mouth. “Here you go. To Miss Octavia Melody, from Miss Rarity and company. She made it very clear that I deliver this to you in pony.”
“Why thank you, Derpy,” Octavia said, staring at the piece of paper in her hooves. She was doing her best not to let her tears loose from her eyes or her disappointment show on her face. 
“Okay, I gotta go find Rarity and tell her that I delivered that letter,” Derpy said. She waved good-bye and trotted off in the same direction that Lyra and Fiddlesticks had gone. 
Octavia stared at the parchment in her hoof. It was the same one she had seen when she had exited the train with Lyra earlier in the week.  Vinyl’s name had been underlined three times with scribbles. Probably Derpy’s doing. She wished greatly at that moment that Vinyl was actually going to be part of the show, but she knew better. Lyra and Rarity had said as much.
Still, why had Rarity insisted that Derpy deliver this  to her, when she knew that Octavia would already be at the show? And why send one that seemed to deliberately tear at her heart? Not that Rarity was aware of the situation. 
“Octavia, is everything all right?” Beauty Brass asked after a moment. 
Octavia blinked and placed the paper in her saddlebag.  “Yes, it is. Come, we best hurry or Rarity will begin to wonder where we are.”
Half an hour later, Octavia was sitting in her chair with the other musicians. Lyra was next to her on her right and Fiddlesticks was on her left. Harpo was behind her, along with a few other ponies that she did not recognize. He seemed to be getting along with them fine though, so Octavia sat and tuned her cello, occasionally helping her cousin tune her violin or giving Lyra some advice on posture. Fredric and Beauty Brass had melted into the crowd and were waiting somewhere for the show to start.
The area around the stage was starting to fill up. Dozens of ponies were coming out for the show, all of them trying to get the best area close to the stage. She noticed a few of them pointing at her and whispering, saying things like, “She’s the one,” or “Have you heard her new song?” 
Octavia did her best to ignore them, instead drawing her bow across her cello’s strings a few times to make sure everything was tightened properly. Everything sounded perfect. Smiling, she stood on her hind legs and settled into her playing position. She closed her eyes, feeling the familiar weight against her body, and took several calming breaths. She just needed to get through this, and then she could devote herself to tracking down Vinyl.
“Fiddlesticks, take off your hat,” she said when she saw her cousin was still wearing it.
“Aw, do I have to?”
“Yes,” Octavia said. “This is a formal affair. You are lucky that Rarity is allowing you to wear your bandana.” She adjusted her bow tie as she spoke, making sure it was in the perfect position around her neck. 
“It’s also so the ponies behind you can see better,” Lyra added. 
“That too,” Octavia said. 
“Fine.” Fiddlesticks made a face as she took off her cowboy hat and set it under her chair. 
“Ah, you’re all here.” Octavia looked over and saw Rarity walking toward them, Derpy close behind. “Miss Hooves said you had all arrived. Are you ready to go? You know the music?”
There were several confirmations from the musicians and Octavia nodded. 
“Don’t worry, Rarity,” Lyra said with a grin. “We’ve got this covered. You just make sure your models are ready to go.”
“They are,” Rarity said, a grin slinking across her face. “All of them. Bon Bon told me to tell you to stay focused for some reason though.”
Lyra blushed hard and Octavia smiled. “Do not worry, Rarity. I will keep Lyra on key,” she said.
“Excellent. Feel free to start whenever you are all ready.” With that, the fashion pony turned and walked away, apologizing to Derpy about something and promising to bring her muffins.  
Octavia turned around and noted that all the other musicians were looking at her. She glanced at Lyra, who gave a quick nod, and then she looked back at the other ponies. Very well. If they had elected her to be the leader, then she would not let them down. She cleared her throat and nodded once, then turned to Fiddlesticks. 
“You and your violin—”
“Fiddle,” the yellow mare said. Apparently she was still pouting about her hat. Octavia would have to make it up to her after the show. Just one more thing to the list of things she needed to take care of before they ruined her social life. 
“I apologize, Fiddlesticks. You and your fiddle have the opening score. When you are ready, begin.”
Her cousin smiled brightly, and then changed into a different pony completely. Octavia always marveled at Fiddlesticks’s transformation. The easy-going, sometimes goofy, country pony vanished. In her place rose a mare who stood just as erect as Octavia. Her midnight blue hair cascaded down her back as she stood. The yellow fur chewed at the blue mane, mixing it into its own color until it looked as though streaks of green were running down Fiddlesticks’ neck. 
Her joyful blue eyes closed as her violin came to rest under her chin. She tilted her head to the side ever so slightly, listening to the music that so far only she could hear. Her face was no longer a happy-go-lucky pony, but one of an artist who had spent years perfecting her craft. Her nostrils expanded and retracted with each small breath as she carefully raised her bow and placed it on the strings with an elegance that Octavia rarely associated with Fiddlesticks. 
Her cousin stood perfectly still for five seconds, something Octavia had never seen her do outside of playing her instrument, and then she drew her bow across the strings in three rapid strikes. A hush fell over the crowd, but there were still murmurs from a few ponies. Fiddlesticks struck the three notes again, louder this time, and silence fell across the entire crowd.
“Nicely done, cousin,” Octavia whispered. Fiddlesticks did not open her eyes, but a tiny smile graced her lips. Octavia turned to the rest of the musicians, nodded once, and they all began to play. The sound of so many stringed instruments cutting through the evening air was enough to make her forget about Vinyl and their falling out for a few moments.
Octavia attempted to watch the models come on stage and show off their outfits. She noted that many of them were dressed in flowing colors and long gowns, with scarves and wraps around their necks. No doubt to protect against the harsh deserts of Saddle Arabia, but she could not understand why each one of them wore a bridle. She had worn one on several occasions, and she was not a fan of them. They looked stunning, but they were horribly uncomfortable to wear for any extended period of time. 
After the fifth model, a blue unicorn with a sky blue and white mane, came out on the runway, Octavia found her mind drifting. The models were all stunning, and their outfits were all a testament to Rarity’s talents, but they could not hold her attention. She found her mind drifting into the music, as it so often did whenever she had a lot to think about.
Her muscle memory took over playing and she let her consciousness float free. She closed her eyes and allowed her mind to form the landscape that the music wished to paint for her.
A white desert stretched before her. There were rolling hills off in the distance, but everything in every direction was barren. She felt lost and alone, until a new note sprang from her own cello and an oasis appeared ahead of her. She walked toward it, taking shelter in the shade of the trees. She found that her tongue was parched, so she walked forward and her mind painted a deep blue pool of water before her. She knelt and drank, the ripples from her touch causing the pool’s color to shift to a brighter blue as the sun hit it differently. 
The sand around the water had changed to a pinkish, almost red color as it sucked in the refreshing water. It tingled against her hooves, tickling them and bringing a sad smile to her face. She stared at her reflection in the pool, thinking that she could stay here forever and just admire the beauty of her surroundings. Everything she wanted was here, she thought.  The shifting blues of the water, the blindingly white sand, the soft red mud. It was so peaceful, so soothing, so right.
Yet something was missing. Her mind could not place it, but she felt like something was supposed to be here. A voice called her and she looked up from the water. Across the way, a pony was waving to her and calling her name. She smiled and waved back, but when she blinked, the pony dissolved into heat burning off the desert sands. The feeling of being alone grew stronger, tearing away the peace that the oasis offered. It gnawed at her, chewing her mind and forcing its way deeper into her heart. The feeling was growing, and she found herself backing away from the water, which had started to burst out of the ground, but she could not escape it fast enough. It rose to her chest, then her neck, then her mouth. It filled her lungs and blinded her eyes. She could not breathe!
With a start, Octavia yanked herself out of her daydream—or daynightmare perhaps—and barely managed to keep on key. 
“Hey,” Lyra whispered. She had one eye open and was peeking at Octavia. “Are you okay?”
“I am fine,” Octavia said, willing her hooves to stop trembling.
“Good, because Rarity wants to speak with you.” The mint green unicorn tilted her head to the side and Octavia looked over to see Rarity gesturing to her. Rather frantically it seemed.
Octavia played the last few notes of her current part in the music and then carefully put her cello down. She laid it in its case and then locked it. It was not that she expected any pony to steal it; it was simply a force of habit.
“Please keep an eye on my cello for me,” she whispered to Lyra.
“No problem.”
With that, Octavia carefully made her way over to Rarity.
“Miss Octavia, I’m afraid I must impose on you for a favor,” Rarity said when Octavia drew close.
“Of course,” Octavia said, nodding politely. “What may I help you with?”
“One of my models came down with an illness and wasn’t able to make it tonight. Do you think you could fill in for her?”
Octavia blinked in surprise. “I…do not know. I have never been a model before.”
“Neither have most of the ponies on stage tonight,” Rarity said with a wave of her hoof, “yet they are all doing marvelous. Wouldn’t you say?”
Octavia turned and looked. Bon Bon was walking on stage now, carrying herself with pride and a seductive smile on her face as she glanced at Lyra. To the unicorn’s credit, she kept her magic in check, but Octavia swore Lyra was sweating.
“Yes, they are,” Octavia said as she turned back. “But what about my part in the ensemble?”
“I’m certain your friends can cover for you,” Rarity said with a wave of her hoof. “And if I recall, your cello doesn’t have any more major parts until the second half, correct? I’m sure Lyra and the others will be able to make up for it. I’ll be sure to tell them that I had to pull you aside.”
“Very well. If you think I can do this.”
“You certainly carry yourself without question, and that’s all you’ll need for this. Trust me.” Octavia blushed slightly at the comment and nodded. “Excellent. It’s settled then.  Now come along, quickly. We need to get you into the gown before the finale starts. It should fit perfectly. Vi—uh, I mean, the pony was about your size so everything should work out. Follow me please.”
Octavia nodded again and followed Rarity around to the back of her shop, leaving the fashion show behind. She felt bad leaving her place in the music, but Rarity was correct. Her major parts were over, and Fiddlesticks could easily cover for her in terms of pitch. It was not like this was the Grand Galloping Gala or anything of that magnitude.
Moments later, Octavia found herself in the back of Rarity’s shop. All the ponies who had modeled for the show were there, chatting amongst themselves and showing off their outfits to one another. Rarity ushered her through the crowd and into a dressing room. 
“Your outfit is hanging in there. Put it on and then come out so I can see if I need to make any adjustments.” With a gentle push, Rarity closed the door and Octavia found herself staring at a beautiful dress. 
It was made of pure white silk and seemed to shimmer in the light. Blue sapphires lined the trim and a black onyx clasp ran around the neck. Octavia shuddered as she slipped it on, the fabric falling around her like she imagined a cloud would feel if she could fly. It went very low in front, to the point where she almost felt indecent, but at the same time she found herself excited. The outfit was rather risqué by her standards, and wearing it filled her with a sense of danger that she rarely felt without…a certain pony around her.
Octavia shook the thought away and undid her bow tie. She clasped the onyx binder around her neck and turned to look at herself in the mirror. The dress was rippling around her, almost as if it was breathing on its own. Her black mane fell down to her shoulders and her eyes seemed to sparkle as bright as the sapphires that gently clicked against the floor. She looked stunning, she decided. The outfit was very plain compared to what other ponies had been wearing, but somehow Rarity had made it the most striking thing Octavia had seen all night. 
“What would Vinyl say, I wonder?” she whispered to herself as she stared at her reflection. “Wow, Tavi, you look hot!” She smiled to herself and turned to exit the dressing room. Maybe Rarity would let her keep the dress and she could show it to Vinyl later.
Wait. I just want to find her. I do not wish to show off for her. Right…?
“Oh, Octavia dear, you look simply smashing,” Rarity said as Octavia stepped out.
“I’m almost jealous,” Bon Bon added, who had apparently come over while Octavia changed. “Stay away from Lyra while you’re wearing that, just to be safe, okay?”
Octavia smiled. “Very well.” She turned to Rarity, goose bumps going down her skin as the silk flowed around her. “When do I go on?” 
“As soon as we get your partner out of her dressing room,” Rarity said, her face scrunching with annoyance. “I’m afraid she’s having a bit of a nervous breakdown. Perhaps you could talk to her?”
“I do not think that would be a good idea,” Octavia said as she looked at the floor. “Talking to ponies about unwinding is not my strong suit.” 
It was true. Octavia was often told she came across as uptight, even when she was perfectly relaxed. She doubted her calming techniques would be at all helpful for a pony from Ponyville. Modeling in front of your friends was not the same as playing in front of countless important ponies in Canterlot. This pony probably needed a friend from her town, not some cellist player.
“Well, she won’t listen to me,” Bon Bon said, “nor any other pony here for that matter. She might listen to you though. I hear she’s a big fan, and if you tell her she gets to go out on stage with you, I’m sure she’ll jump at the chance.”
Octavia sighed. Fame had its price apparently. Still, it was nice to have a fan, and Octavia supposed she could at least try to make the pony feel at ease. 
“Where can I find her?”
“She’s in the back, in the only dressing room with the locked door.” Rarity picked up a small white bag with her magic and made it float in front of Octavia. “Also, she’ll need this. It’s part of her outfit, and I…may have forgotten to give it to her.” 
Octavia nodded and took the small bag in her mouth. She began to make her way to the back. She heard Rarity announce to the other models to begin lining up for their encore performance and the room began to slowly drain of ponies. Octavia decided she needed to hurry if she wanted to make it in time. She did not want to ruin Rarity’s show by failing to make an appearance. The sound of the sapphires gently clicking against the floor reminded her of trickling water as she trotted over to the far dressing rooms.
She found the only dressing room with a closed door and set the bag down next to it. She was about to knock when she paused. A faint noise was coming from the other side. It sounded like…crying? Oh dear. This was unpleasant indeed. Octavia was not sure if she knew the right words to say to cheer up a pony in tears. Still, she had to try. She knocked once and opened her mouth to speak, but the pony on the other side beat her to it.
“Listen, Bon Bon, I know you mean well, but please just leave me alone.”
Octavia’s eyes widened and she felt her mouth fall open. For a moment, she stood perfectly still, her brain refusing to recognize what she had just heard. Was that…?
“Vinyl?” she asked carefully.
There was dead silence for a long time, and then, “No.”
“Vinyl Scratch, is that you?” she asked again, getting a bit more control over her voice.
“No, it’s not,” the voice said rather hoarsely. “Please…just go away.” Was she crying? Why in Equestria was she crying? Why was she hiding in a dressing room? Why was she even here? 
“Vinyl Scratch, you will open this door now, or I will show you how strong an earth pony truly is and Rarity will send you the bill.” For a moment, nothing happened. “One. Two. Celestia help you if I get to three, Vinyl.” She started to back up and began to turn around, getting ready to smash the door in with her hind legs.
It did not come to that. The door creaked open just a bit, but not enough for Octavia to get inside, much less see inside. It was progress, but that thought was quickly drowned out by another one.
What now?
Octavia stood in silence, staring at the door and wondering what she was suppose to say. She had spent the past few days running over every possible scenario for when she finally tracked Vinyl down. She had decided that she would be civil toward the D.J., but firm. She was just making sure that Vinyl was fine, and that was all. She had planned to make that very clear, and that while she had forgiven the unicorn, that was all. Nothing more.
“Vinyl, please step out here,” she said instead. Why was her voice so soft? She did not want to give the unicorn the wrong idea. She needed to put more iron into her voice, but she found that she could not do it. She just wanted to see her.
“I would rather not make an appearance, Miss Melody,” Vinyl said. Or at least, Octavia was pretty sure it was her. She had never heard Vinyl speak like that.
“Do not be silly,” she said, again finding her voice to not be anything like she had imagined it would be when this moment came. 
“I’m sorr—I mean, I apologize, but I must insist.” Why was she talking like that? This was not like her at all. “I…I do not wish for you to see me. You made it very clear that you felt similar, and I don’t want to intrude.  It is best if you just pretend you did not find me.”
Octavia was growing tired of staring at, and talking to, a door. “Vinyl, please open the door. This is getting rather bothersome. And Rarity will be cross with us if we do not make it on stage in time.”
That got the door open. “What do you mean?” Vinyl asked quietly as she stepped out.
Octavia attempted to answer, but her voice caught in her throat. Vinyl looked dazzling. She was clad in a grey dress with satin boots that complemented the curves of her legs. Her hair was done up in a way that Octavia did not think was possible on her, and yet it fit perfectly. Her spikes had been toned down to long strands of flowing blue rivers that streaked down the sides of her face and neck.  
As Vinyl took another step forward, Octavia noticed that light seemed to sparkle off of her dress. She looked closely and saw countless amethyst stones embroidered into the dress, each one reflecting light in its own way. She wore a beautiful bridle that drew Octavia’s eyes to the unicorn’s own eyes, which were doing their best to look at the floor.
That was the only thing wrong with Vinyl’s appearance. Her eyes were red from crying.
“You look amazing,” Octavia said.
“You look…nice,” Vinyl replied, still staring at the floor. Nice? What type of compliment was that? Vinyl never used the word ‘nice’ to describe how a pony looked, and Octavia felt a twinge of pain. Was that all Vinyl thought of her appearance?
“Vinyl, what is—?”
“Octavia, I get it,” Vinyl said suddenly. “I don’t know why Rarity, or Bon Bon, or whoever, sent you back here to talk to me, but I get it.  You don’t need to waste your time on me anymore, and I promise I’ll leave you alone. Forever.”
Octavia’s mouth fell open. She had not wanted that, had she? Sure, she had been sore with Vinyl. Sure she was upset that the unicorn had missed yet another of her performances. Sure she had said pretty much exactly what Vinyl had just told her, but to hear it coming from the D.J.’s mouth and not her own made it sound…wrong. Heartbreaking. 
Vinyl, leaving her alone forever?
A tear ran down her cheek before she realized what was happening and she quickly brushed it away.
“I will take my leave now,” Vinyl said. “I see I am upsetting you again. I…I know it doesn’t matter now, but…I am sorry. About everything.” She hung her head and turned to walk away. 
Do not let her leave! Stop her! Say something, damn it!
Octavia’s mind was screaming at her to act, to step in front of the unicorn as she left, to throw her hooves around her neck and hold her in place, or even just tell her to stop. Something, anything.
“Stop!” Octavia said in a loud whisper. “I said stop right there!”
Vinyl stopped and looked back at her, her face so distraught and broken that Octavia felt her heart breaking. “Yes? May I help you with something?”
“Just…stop,” Octavia said, lowering her head. “Stop talking like that. It is…not right. It is not you.”
“The old me hurt you,” Vinyl whispered. “I do not wish to—”
“I SAID STOP TALKING LIKE THAT!”
Vinyl blinked and took a step back. Octavia herself blinked in surprise at her outburst. Her chest was heaving and her mane was falling in front of her eyes. Frustrated, she tried to brush it aside, but only caused more of it to fall into her face. She began to frantically run her hoof through her mane, trying to straighten it and only making it worse. Tears began to fall from her eyes and land on the floor.
A white hoof reached out and lifted her chin, then carefully brush her mane out of her eyes. 
“Are you okay?” Vinyl asked as they stared at each other. “I…I can go if I’m making you upset.”
“You have been doing that for a long time,” Octavia said. She had not meant for it to sound so mean, but her emotions were running wild and she was not sure what was going on. She felt like she had that night Lyra had come over: raw, with all her defenses down and no filter in place to check herself against.
“Yeah, I know,” Vinyl said. She looked away. “I never realized what you must have felt like when I didn’t show for your concerts. I thought it was no big deal, seeing as you had all those other ponies there. I didn’t think I mattered.”
“Vinyl, you know that is—”
“Let me finish,” the unicorn said firmly. “But then tonight, when I walked out on stage and saw your empty chair with your cello, I…Octy, I’m so, so sorry. I understand if you never want to speak to me again.”
Octavia’s ears fluttered at the sound of her nickname. “I did not know you were in the show Vinyl,” she said. “Otherwise, I would not have allowed Rarity to pull me from my seat. I was under the impression that you were unavailable to play for the show and that Rarity had simply not had a chance to change the pamphlet.”
“What?” Vinyl said, a look of genuine confusion crossing her face. “But…I’ve been with Rarity for the past week. That’s why I was so upset when you didn’t see me. I helped her set up a lot of this stuff. I wanted to show you that I had class by helping Rarity put on this fashion show thing.”
“But Rarity and Lyra said…” Octavia trailed off as her mind began to piece things together. She smiled to herself. “We have some amazing friends, Vinyl.”
“More like amazingly manipulative friends,” the unicorn said with a face. “That was you in the spa the other day, wasn’t it?”
“And I take it you were in the back with Rarity, which is why Miss Lotus was so insistent that I not go back there.”
“I’m going to kill them,” Vinyl said, although she had a smile spreading across her face as she spoke. 
“Well, if you prefer, I can return to not speaking to you, you leaving desperate messages on my phone, and the two of us generally being unhappy for the rest of our lives. Just so our friends’ hard work can be for nothing, if that makes you feel better.”
“No, no, I’m good.”
The two ponies stood in silence for a moment, trying to figure out what to say to one another. Octavia’s anger at Vinyl had slowly diminished over the past several weeks, but after tonight it had all melted away. She was glad to have Vinyl back in her life, her world as Bon Bon put it, even if it meant more pain down the road. 
Or maybe not as much pain as she thought. Vinyl had apparently learned her lesson and Octavia was fairly sure that the D.J. would not be missing any more of her shows. At least none of the important ones anyway.
“I am sorry I missed your debut as a model,” Octavia said finally.
“Me too,” Vinyl said. “Uh, I mean, I’m sorry I missed your show. Shows! But I’m also really bummed that you missed my modeling career. Rarity said I was the star of the show and all that.”
Rarity! The show! Oh no! Octavia had completely forgotten the reason she had come back here. Rarity, and by now every other pony, was waiting on Octavia and Vinyl to come out on the runway one last time. 
“Octy, is something wrong?” Vinyl asked. “You look worried.”
“The show! Rarity and everypony else is waiting for you and me! We are supposed to be the final act!”
“I, uh, don’t think that’s such a good idea,” Vinyl said, blushing slightly. “I’m kind of a mess right now.”
“Nonsense, you look smashing.” Octavia looked at Vinyl’s red puffy eyes and winced slightly. “We just need something to cover your eyes. Where are your sunglasses?”
“Rarity took them. Said they didn’t go with the gown.”
Octavia looked around and spotted the small bag Rarity had given her earlier. She opened it and smiled. Rarity had planned this whole thing down to the last detail. Octavia should have expected nothing less from a pony whose passion was making such beautiful outfits.
“Close your eyes,” Octavia said. Vinyl did and Octavia pulled out the pair of sunglasses that Vinyl always wore. She slid them on Vinyl’s face and took a step back, admiring her work. “There you are, Vinyl.”
“Alright, thanks!” Vinyl said as a smile swept across her face. “I’ve missed these babies!”
“So, I still would love to see your modeling technique, if you are willing,” Octavia said as she turned toward the door.
“Right behind you,” Vinyl said, trotting up next to her and gently bumping her flank against Octavia’s. Octavia smiled and bumped her back and the two of them walked out of the dressing room and headed for the runway.



*                                                               *                                                                       *


Lyra was growing worried. It had been two minutes since Bon Bon had come out for her encore performance and there was still no sign of Octavia or Vinyl. What if the plan hadn’t worked? What if, no matter what she, Bon Bon, Rarity, and every other pony tried, the two musicians never made up? Vinyl was obviously sorry, and Octavia had made it painfully clear that she missed the unicorn, but the cellist could be amazingly stubborn and the D.J. was a bit thick when it came to some matters. 
Well, if this didn’t work, Lyra would simply have Bon Bon help her ponynap the both of them and force them to make up. 
“Relax, darling,” Rarity whispered from beside her. “They’ll be out any moment.”
“How can you be sure? It’s already been two minutes and ponies are starting to get a bit impatient.” The entire show had been put on hold while Rarity promised that the main stars were getting ready to appear.
“Trust me,” Rarity said. “I’ve been through enough trials with friends to know when something is going to work.”
As if on cue, Bon Bon stuck her head out from behind the curtain and nodded once toward Rarity and Lyra. Lyra smiled and nodded to Fiddlesticks, who immediately began playing her fiddle, and the rest of the musicians picked up their instruments as well.
“See?” Rarity said with a glorious smile on her face. “They are apple pie.”
“Yeah…I still have no idea what that means,” Lyra said as she picked up her lyre and began playing. “Good job though. There were a few close calls, but we pulled it off.”
“We only gave them a little nudge, Miss Heartstrings.” Rarity nodded toward the stage and Lyra smiled as Octavia and Vinyl walked out together. The crowd roared and stomped their hooves as the two musicians took center stage and struck a pose. “They did the hard part. But still, you did help, so you must be rewarded. Tell Bon Bon she may keep the dress, free of charge. Consider it a gift.”
Lyra blushed and struggled to keep her magic from changing colors. She was glad her two friends were back on speaking terms, but now all she really wanted to do was get home with Bon Bon still in that dress.
	
> I Am Yours
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Vinyl Scratch sat on a chair, her chin resting on her table while her phone sat in front of her. It was in sleep mode, its screen dark as it conserved energy. She hoped that by staring at it hard enough, she could will it to come to life. She had taken her sunglasses off to add to her stare’s strength. 
Sadly, it still wasn’t enough. The phone continued to sit lifelessly on the table, which was still spotless from Rarity’s little cleaning spree two weeks ago.
Sweet Celestia, had it really been two weeks? No, she had forgotten to count the week she had spent in Ponyville. Her home had been clean for three weeks! That had to be some sort of new record for her. Okay, so maybe her living room was starting to slip a bit and the dishes were starting to pile up again, but the place still looked clean. At least by Vinyl’s standards. 
Still, the realization that her home was actually clean only held Vinyl’s attention for a moment. After that, her entire being returned to focusing on the phone in front of her. She had been jealously guarding it for the past two weeks, though this evening was the first time she had ever sat and stared at it. It was mind-numbingly boring to do, but she couldn’t bring herself to leave its side for even an instant. 
The small fear that had been building in the back of her mind ever since the return trip from Ponyville was now threatening to swallow her entirely. She was starting to worry. 
She wasn’t worried about not hearing from Octavia. They were speaking again. That bridge had been mended and Vinyl had dashed across it several times to make sure it was in perfect condition. There was no threat of Octavia cutting Vinyl out of her life, at least none that Vinyl could see. And she planned to keep it that way as best she could.
No, she was worried about something else. 
It had started on the train ride back from Ponyville. She and Octavia had ridden together. Vinyl had been so happy to have the cellist all to herself after missing her for so long. It hadn’t been possible to spend alone time while they were in Ponyville. Vinyl had had to share Octavia with adoring fans after Rarity’s fashion show had ended. And then again when Lyra and Bon Bon had invited them both over for dinner and to spend the night. And the next morning, when Octavia’s band friends had taken her and Vinyl out for breakfast. 
But Vinyl had endured all of that because she knew she’d have Octavia to herself on the train ride back. Only, when Octavia had taken her seat, she had lain down just enough so that there had been no room for Vinyl to sit next to her comfortably, and the cellist had shown no sign of making room. So instead, Vinyl had sat across from her. They had talked all the way back to Manehattan, discussing their time in Ponyville, what they had both been doing since “the thing,” and basically nothing at all.
Octavia had said she wished she could have seen Vinyl during her spa treatment because she couldn’t imagine the unicorn doing such a thing. Vinyl had nearly died laughing when Octavia had told her about asking if Bon Bon was any good. 
It had been a great time. Vinyl had loved every moment of talking with Octavia, but she had also wanted to sit next to her, to snuggle, and to have the cellist fall asleep on her shoulder, but Octavia had never given Vinyl an opening to move.
They had arrived at Manehattan last Sunday evening. They had shared an awkward goodnight—without so much as a hug, much less a kiss—and had gone their separate ways.
The next day, Octavia had called and had asked Vinyl if she would like to get lunch. Vinyl had jumped at the chance, offering to pay for the entire meal herself and promising to take Octavia wherever she had wanted to go. Octavia had refused both offers. She had paid for her own meal, and had chosen a simple restaurant, nothing fancy.
Still, at least Vinyl had been able to spend lunch with her.
Tuesday had come and gone. All Vinyl had heard from Octavia was a single text that had read, “Good Morning.” There had been a smilely face with the text though.
Wednesday, Vinyl had decided to try and take the initiative. She had gotten up extra early—eleven a.m. no less—and had called Octavia, asking if she had had any plans for that day. Octavia had answered, said that it she would have loved to spend the day with Vinyl, but that she was busy and would not be able to. 
That night was the first night when Vinyl’s brain had started to slowly murder her all over again. It had begun as a tiny thought: What if I’ve lost her for good? She had immediately brushed it aside. She hadn’t lost Octavia. The cellist was just busy. Still, there had been the train ride, the good-bye at the train station, the not-a-date lunch, and then Octavia had turned her down.
Thursday Vinyl had decided to…do something. She couldn’t remember now as she stared at her phone. It had been nothing involving Octavia, of that she was certain. What was it…?
Right! She had gone to a club and performed. She hadn’t heard from Octavia all that day, so she had decided she had needed to do something to take her mind off of things. That plan had worked, until she had gone back home at three in the morning and noticed that she had missed a call from Octavia while she had been out. She had spent the rest of the night staring at her ceiling, hoping Octavia wasn’t mad at her.
Friday Octavia had called again, asking if Vinyl would like to come to a concert that she was playing in. Vinyl had been out the door and halfway down the street before answering yes. She had stopped to pick up some flowers and then gone to the park where Octavia had said she’d be playing. When she had arrived, she had thought she had the wrong place. There were only a few ponies in the park, and none had appeared to be expecting a show. Vinyl had almost left, but then Octavia, Fredric, Harpo, and B.B. had shown up and had started playing under a gazebo. Vinyl had spent an entire hour sitting in the grass, watching Octavia’s hooves move back and forth and swaying with her music. When the musicians had stopped, Vinyl had clapped loudly, startling the other ponies who had stopped to listen, and then given Octavia the flowers.
Octavia had thanked Vinyl, given her a quick hug, and asked if she would like to accompany her home. Vinyl had happily agreed, but the walk home had been one of awkward silence. At Octavia’s door, Octavia had thanked Vinyl for coming, and then turned to go inside.
“Hey, um…do you want to get dinner tomorrow or something?” Vinyl had asked before Octavia had closed the door. “We can go to your favorite restaurant. My treat.”
Octavia had agreed, and Saturday night they had eaten together. It had been fun, and it was the first time Vinyl had believed that things had truly gotten back to normal between them.
Until Vinyl had walked Octavia home. She had given Octavia a quick kiss on the cheek as a goodnight. It had apparently been a mistake, because Octavia had simply smiled, thanked Vinyl for dinner, and then closed the door as if nothing had happened. Vinyl had been left standing on the front step wondering what she had done wrong.
Sunday she had asked Octavia through a text if the cellist was mad at her. Octavia had said that she was not, but she needed some time to think. She had promised to call her later in the week so they could talk.
Talk. Vinyl twitched as she heard the word again in her mind. 
It was now Saturday evening and Vinyl still hadn’t heard from her cellist. Sure, she had received the usual polite messages and conversations, and Vinyl had done her best to not try to force the issue, but the uncertainty was starting to kill her.
Octy had forgiven her. She had made that very clear, but Vinyl thought that meant they could also pick up where they had left off. Now, two weeks after the fashion show, she wasn’t so sure. She ran over the events in her head again, trying to figure out where she had screwed up. Was it the kiss? But Octy loved it when Vinyl gave her a quick one on the cheek. The flowers weren’t the best, but they were  Octy's favorite. So why was the mare keeping her at a distance?
Vinyl continued to stare at her phone, begging it to ring. She needed to talk to Octavia. If she had done something wrong again, she needed to know how to fix it. If she needed to do something, she needed to know what.  If she—
What if she just doesn’t want to be with you anymore?
Vinyl laughed at the thought. “Pu-lease. She said she forgave me, and I am sorry about missing her show. And I totally meant it when I promised her that I would change.” She shuddered as she remembered the feeling she had felt when she had seen Octavia’s empty chair that night. Yes, she had meant every word of that promise.
And yet, it’s been two weeks and you’re staring at a phone that’s not going to ring.
“Shut up,” Vinyl said. She blew her mane out of her eyes and rolled her head to the side as she continued to stare at her phone. The annoying little voice in the back of her head had a point though, as much as she didn’t want to admit it. What if Octavia didn’t want to get back together? What would Vinyl do then? 
She had absolutely no idea. Not being with Octavia for over a month had nearly killed her. Going the rest of her life without the cellist didn’t seem possible.
No. She wouldn’t let that happen. If Octavia didn’t want to be with her now, then she would just keep trying. She had sworn she’d go to every show, and she had meant it. She would be there for Octavia no matter what. And if Octavia didn’t take her back, then she would wait. If she ended up waiting until she was in the grave, then she’d do it. If Octavia found somepony else, she’d…
“Celestia, I don’t even want to think about that,” she whispered.
There was a buzzing noise, followed instantly by a loud musical beat. Vinyl jumped and fell out of her chair, crashing to the floor. She scrambled up and looked at her phone. It was ringing! And the number was Octavia’s!
“Hey, Octy,” Vinyl said, trying to keep her voice steady, “what’s up?”
“Are you busy?” came the voice from the other end.
“Um…” Vinyl looked around her apartment for a second, trying to stay two steps ahead of the conversation. She suddenly had a whole new appreciation for the bridles the Saddle Arabian delegates wore. “Nah, I’m not doing anything.”
There was a long silence. Too long. Vinyl felt sweat running down the back of her neck. 
“Oh,” Octavia said after what felt like a lifetime. 
“Yeah, so…”
“So…”
“Octy, are you sure you’re not mad at me?” Vinyl asked quickly, unable to take the suspense any longer. “I mean, if you want me to back off, I will. I just thought everything was cool between us again. But, well, if you want me to disappear I—”
“No!” Octy said suddenly.
“Okay, I won’t disappear,” Vinyl replied. She forced a laugh and smiled nervously when she heard Octy laugh as well. “But, um, seriously. Are we still…you know, us?”
Octavia paused again and Vinyl started to count the seconds that ticked by. 
“What do you think?” Octavia asked after fifteen seconds.
“I…I don’t know,” Vinyl said, the words catching in her throat. “I mean, I thought we were. I thought everything was cool with us after we made up in Ponyville. But, you’ve been acting…weird around me. Like you don’t want me around.” Vinyl blushed. She hadn’t meant to call Octavia names. “Which I’m, uh, totally okay with. I mean, not okay with, but I understand if you want me gone. Well, not gone, but—ugh. You know what I mean, right?”
“What do you mean, Vinyl?”
Now it was Vinyl’s turn to pause. She wanted her next words to be perfect. She wanted them to give voice to the imgaes in her head. Images of Octavia and her together, walking through a park, going to a movie, cuddling on a bench, and sharing a bed. She wanted the words to convey the feelings she got from stroking Octavia’s hair, of the elation she got when she ran up and covered the cellist’s eyes from behind and Octavia briefly stiffened, then relaxed completely into her embrace, of when their bodies were pressed together and their manes tangled as one. She wanted the words to be perfect. They needed to be perfect. She was suddenly wishing very much that she was wearing a bridle.
“I miss you, Octy.” 
Dammit! Vinyl slammed her hoof against her forehead, then slammed her head against the table. “I miss you, Octy?” Seriously? That’s the best you can come up with? You stupid mare! Of course she knows you miss her! She’s not the idiot, you are! You blew it! Who says something as stupid as that? Ugh!
“I apologize, Vinyl—”
“No,” Vinyl interrupted, her ears drooping. She didn’t think she could handle what she knew Octavia was about to say. “No, it’s cool. I get it. Listen, I…I hope I can at least still hang out with you. Go to your shows and whatnot. Maybe play together like we used to.”
Octavia was silent for a long time, the longest she had been for the entire conversation, then finally said, “Would you like to come over and play tonight?”
“Really?” Vinyl’s ears perked back up. “You sure? I-I mean, I’m down for it, if you are.”
Octy chuckled. “I believe I am, quote, down for it. Listening to you has put me in the mood.”
“Sweet! I’ll be over in about twenty minutes.”
“Very well.” With that, Octy hung up and Vinyl couldn’t help but smile. Okay, maybe the situation wasn’t completely hopeless. So Octy didn’t want to get back together yet, but she hadn’t told Vinyl to scram either. In fact, she had invited her over, without any suggestions or pressure from Vinyl, so they could have one of their jam sessions. At least there was that.
She briefly considered taking a shower, but decided there wasn’t enough time. She looked at the turntable sitting in the living room. She’d need to bring that with her if she and Octy were going to play. It would be a bit of a chore carrying it so far, but she could handle it. The image of mixing tunes with the cellist again was giving her more than enough strength. 
Vinyl opened the door to her apartment and grabbed her turntable with her magic. She focused for a moment, making sure she had a decent grip, and then levitated the thing off the floor and out the door. She stepped out after it and immediately set it down.
A cold wind was blowing through Manehattan, and while it wasn’t freezing, Vinyl knew that it would get colder the darker it got, so she decided she’d better put something on. She walked back into her living room and looked around, then found the scarf Octy had given her. She wrapped it around her neck and smiled as she felt its familiar weight fall around her. She briefly debated whether she should wear her sunglasses, then decided that she should. Octy had put them on her at the fashion show, so the cellist clearly liked them. Plus, they were part of her public appearance and they looked pretty damn good with her scarf. 
Taking one last look at herself in the mirror, Vinyl walked back out the door, locked it, and picked up her turntable again. She began to walk through the apartment complex and then turned onto the sidewalk. Humming happily to herself, she began walking toward Octy’s home. 
Vinyl completely ignored the strange looks ponies gave her as she walked down the streets of Manehattan, levitating her turntable behind her.  The thing was getting heavy, even with her magic, and the night air was changing from cool to chilly. Still, she didn’t mind in the slightest. The thought of having a jam session with Octy after so long was more than enough to keep her going.
Smiling despite the numbness that was threatening her cheeks, Vinyl adjusted her scarf. She could still smell a hint of the cellist in the fabric, even after so long. She couldn’t wait to see her again, even if things weren’t going as well as Vinyl wanted. Oh well. One thing at a time. She’d win Octy back eventually, or she’d die trying. The jam session was a good start at least. It meant that Vinyl hadn’t done anything wrong per say, and she’d use that to hopefully continue rebuilding the bridge.  
The jam session itself was a pleasant treat though. It was one of the things Vinyl missed most during the past month and a half. 
One of the things…
Realizing that her random humming had turned into one of Octy’s favorite melodies, Vinyl turned a street corner and found herself standing in front of the mare’s home. She stopped for a moment to look at the place that held so many memories for her. They pained her slightly as she recalled them, but she also found herself smiling. They were good memories, and hopefully she and Octy would be able to create more.
“Steady there, Vinyl,” she said to herself. “She made it really clear that we’re not together. Don’t blow this by acting otherwise.” She attempted to walk coolly up to the door, just in case Octy was watching for her.
Her strutting lasted all of two steps before her joy took over and she skipped the rest of the way up to the door.  Panting slightly—the turntable was a bit heavy and she had carried it for quite a distance—she rang the doorbell and then knocked loudly on the door.
“Hey, Octy!” she said. “I’m here! You want to let…” The door opened and Vinyl trailed off at the sight before her. “Uh…hi.”
“Hello, Vinyl,” Octy said in that voice. The voice that drove Vinyl insane and often made her take a cold shower if Octy wasn’t available. The voice she dreamed about when she was alone in her bed. The voice she hadn’t heard in over a month. “Would you like to come inside?”
“Uh…” was all the DJ could say.
“Oh, the dress?” Octavia asked, blinking her purple eyes slowly as she looked over herself. “You remember it, correct? The one Rarity gave me. You said I looked nice in it, so I decided to wear it tonight.”
“Uh…yeah, nice,” Vinyl said, trying—and utterly failing—to not stare at the mare before her. 
Octy had her hair down more than usual, so that instead of curling around her head it fell down in an attempt to cover her eyes. The dress was still blindingly white, but it seemed to be even lower in the front than Vinyl remembered.  Her eyes kept drifting to the cellist’s exposed neck, then down her front, following the V-cut as the fabric flowed down her fur. Her soft grey fur that felt so soft against Vinyl’s hooves… 
“Nice?” Octavia asked. “Is that all you have to say? Perhaps I should just take it off then?”
“Sure,” Vinyl said, her mouth suddenly going dry at the thought. “Uh, I mean, no! I mean, you don’t normally wear clothes, so—ah, what I mean is, if you want to take it off, I’m more than happy to help you—I mean, I’m more than happy if you do. No! I—” Dammit! All of her careful planning to not make a fool of herself and become a drooling idiot were quickly falling apart. Octy had made it clear that they weren’t together and—
Octy put her hoof on Vinyl’s mouth and silenced her, and her thoughts, with a blink. “How do I look? Be honest.”
“Hot,” Vinyl said, both describing Octy and her own face at the same time. The cold that had been nipping at her cheeks moments before was long gone, and the scarf around her neck was starting to feel uncomfortably warm.
“Good,” Octy said as she smiled. “Now, would you like…pardon me, but what is that?”
“What?” Vinyl asked as she tried to figure out how wearing clothes made Octy look even hotter than when she had nothing on. The way the dress hugged her curves and traced lines across her fur was mesmerizing, and Vinyl found herself wanting to trace those same lines with her hooves. 
Stupid dress, getting all the action. Vinyl silenced the thought harshly. She was here to make music and listen to Octy play, not…anything else, even if her body was saying otherwise. She had to keep it together for the sake of her future and her future with Octy. The cellist would never take her back if she threw herself at the mare now.
“Why do you have your turntable with you?” Octavia pointed behind Vinyl. The DJ turned, startled to see her favorite music creator floating in the air behind her.
“Oh,” she said. “It’s my turntable. Or, the one I used to keep over here, remember? You said we could play tonight at your house, so I figured that meant I should bring it with me.” When Octavia didn’t answer, but instead just stared at her with a gentle smile, Vinyl started to grow worried. “Uh…was I wrong?” 
That’s what Octavia said, right? Come over and have a jam session, just like old times? Or did she say something else and I was just drunk?  No, she hadn’t had anything to drink in the past week or so.
For several heart pounding moments, Vinyl stood there, afraid to say anything in case she said something wrong.
“No,” Octavia said. “I just remembered that subtly is not your strongest trait.”
“Wub-whatly now?” 
Octy giggled, something she rarely did, and Vinyl’s heart threatened to tear open her ribcage at the sound. Octy laughed, she grinned, and she even chuckled, but she hardly ever giggled. Good thing too, Vinyl decided. She was pretty sure she would have died of a heart attack long ago if the cellist giggled often. 
“Come inside. It is rather cool out here.” Octavia turned, gently brushing her tail against Vinyl’s cheek as she did, and walked into her living room. 
That tail swish was just a mistake. That was all it was. Don’t read into it. Just pretend it didn’t happen! She probably didn’t even notice it.
It took Vinyl several seconds before she managed to tear her eyes away from the view and follow her in. The black tail continued to sway slowly back and forth with each step, hypnotizing the DJ with each swing.
“You may place it over in its original spot,” Octy said. Vinyl carried the turntable over to its corner in the room, placing it in the exact same spot that it had been before. The indents in the carpet made it very easy for her to make sure it was perfectly aligned. She hooked the cables into the wall and fiddled with a few settings until the familiar hum vibrated softly through the air.
“So, uh,” Celestia, it was really hard to keep looking only at Octy’s face, “where’s your cello?”
“It is in my room,” Octy said with a wave of her hoof.  “If you will excuse me, I will go get it.” She disappeared down the hall, Vinyl’s eyes following her swishing tail as far as they could. 
Why was her cello in her room? She had been the one that had invited Vinyl over for a jam session. Why did she seem so unprepared? Every other time Vinyl had come over, Octy had had her cello out and ready to go, and they often ended up waiting on Vinyl to get ready. 
A few moments later, Octy came back into the living room, carrying her cello on her back. “Vinyl, could you give me a hoof? This thing is…rather heavy.”
Vinyl watched as drops of sweat rolled down Octy’s neck. Her long, soft, elegant neck…Vinyl licked her lips without thinking. It was getting really hard to hear anything over the pounding in her head.
“Vinyl?”
“Oh, right!” Vinyl reached out with her magic and lifted the cello off of Octavia’s back. She moved it over next to her turntable and had it float there, waiting for the earth pony to come over and prop it up.
“A little distracted, are we?” Octavia asked as she walked over and took her spot next the cello. 
“Um…no?” Vinyl said sheepishly. She noticed that her scarf was really starting to itch now.
“Oh dear. Then perhaps we should cancel tonight’s get together. I believe you need to see a physician.”
“What? Why?” Vinyl asked, her eyes going wide as she looked herself over.
“Your magic.” Vinyl felt her face go so red that it actually hurt. She closed her eyes and smiled, then carefully opened one partway to look at the cello. Sure enough, it was surround by a grey aura. 
“So…uh, how long have I been doing that?” she asked, staring at the floor as her face continued to burn. 
“Oh, not long,” Octavia said. Vinyl let out a sigh of relief. “Just since I first opened the door, that is all. It was rather pretty watching it change colors like that.”
Vinyl wanted to sink into the very carpet and disappear. This wasn’t going well at all. Stupid unicorn magic. Her own body was selling her out and ruining any chance she might have at rekindling their relationship. “Sorry ‘bout that.”
“Why? I think it is a lovely color.” Vinyl looked up and saw a grin on Octy’s face that she rarely ever saw. The fact that her bangs were partly hiding her eyes made it even sexier.
Is…is she teasing me? Can Tavi do that?
Focus, Vinyl. You just miss her that much, but if you blow it now, you’ll never get another chance. Calm the buck down!
“Can we just start playing? Please?” Vinyl begged. “Before I make even more of an idiot of myself.”
“Certainly,” Octavia said. “But I need your help with something first. I cannot seem to get the clasp on my dress to close. Could you get it for me?”
“Okay, Tavi, even I know that trick,” Vinyl said. Tavi had to be flirting with her now. Maybe everything Vinyl was seeing wasn’t just her over-eager body and depraved mind. Maybe things were better—
“Tavi? You know the rules about calling me that,” Octavia said calmly.
Or maybe not. 
Confused, Vinyl walked over to the cellist. She could have easily used her magic to fix the clasp, but she wanted to touch Octavia. She wanted to run her hooves through the grey mare’s mane and feel her fur against her own. Magic couldn’t do that.
Just as Vinyl reached Octavia, the cellist turned and stood up on her hind legs, as if she was about to play her cello. Her black mane spilled down her back. She ran her hooves through it, making it flow across her spine in a silky onyx river. 
“Can you see it?” she asked.
“Uh-huh,” Vinyl said, not looking at the clasp at all. She found herself rooted to her spot on the floor, her legs unable to remember how to move. She shook her head to clear it and stood up behind Octavia. She wasn’t that great at standing on her hind legs, but Octavia had given her a few pointers. She could manage well enough as long as she had something to catch herself with if she fell. And that something would happen to be Octavia right now.
Don’t you dare fall then! It will give her the wrong impression. She’ll think you did it on purpose. 
Vinyl stood close to Octavia, making extra sure that she wasn’t touching the cellist at all, and extended her shaking hooves to slowly part the mare’s black mane and look for the clasp around her neck. She kept telling herself to only find the clasp and attach it and do nothing else.
Not run her hooves through Octy’s hair.
Not trace a line down her spine. 
Not caress her cheek. 
And certainly not bury her muzzle into the back of Octy’s head and breathe in the faint scent of Octy’s favorite shampoo. 
That last one was proving extra hard, as the scent tickled Vinyl’s muzzle while she felt around for the clasp. She found it and tried to get it to hook together. It took her a few tries because of her shaking hooves, but she finally heard it click.
Vinyl took one last deep breath of Octy’s scent, hoping it wasn’t too obvious what she was doing, and then started to pull away. She was startled when she felt a hoof slide around the back of her neck and pull her closer. She stumbled and fell, but instead of falling flat on her face, she found herself pressed against Octavia’s back. Her head came to rest on Octavia’s shoulder and the cellist held it there gently with her hoof.
Oh. Bucking. CRAP!
“Um…Octavia? I’m really, really sorry. It was an accident.” Vinyl tried to move away, but Octavia wouldn’t remove her hoof from the back of Vinyl’s head. “Um…if you could just, let me go, I’ll get off of you and go sit on the other side of the room. I promise it won’t happen again.” She was suddenly aware of a lot of things all at once. She hadn’t brushed her coat when she had left. Octavia had. Her blue mane was a ragged mess. Octavia’s was nothing short of perfection. She felt extremely warm. Octavia felt warmer. The dress felt like bed sheets. The same bed sheets Octavia liked to sleep on.
For the love of Celestia, watch where you put your hooves or she’ll skin you! Vinyl kept her hooves outstretched as far as she could. It made it even harder to keep her balance, but she dare not put them anywhere on the mare supporting her at the moment.
“Did it work?” came a soft whisper.
“The clasp?” Vinyl said, her heart racing inside her. She was fairly certain that Octavia could hear her heartbeat. She was positive the cellist could feel it on her back. This was really bad.
Octavia took a small step back, pressing her body against Vinyl’s. Her plot pressed against a very sensitive spot on Vinyl. The DJ tried to back up before her legs buckled, but the cellist refused to let her go. It took all Vinyl had to remain standing upright.
“Not the clasp. The trick.” Octavia turned her head slightly and kissed Vinyl’s cheek, then turned forward again.
The DJ suddenly found it very hard to focus. The fact that Octy’s tail was brushing between Vinyl’s hind legs was not helping matters at all. The hair gently brushed each leg, tickling the DJ and scrambling her brain. She felt her legs going weak and, if Octy wasn’t propping her up, she was certain she would be face down on the floor. She tried to form words, but all that came out was a quiet squeak and gasps of air.
“I will take that as a yes,” Octy whispered. She stroked the back of Vinyl’s mane. 
“Uh, look, Octy,” Vinyl said carefully. She was cursing herself for not wearing a bridle now. After tonight, she was seriously going to consider carrying one with her at all times. “Don’t…don’t take this the wrong way, but, uh…I thought we…and you’re, well…I mean, I’m very happy right now, but—”
“I can tell.” Octy giggled again and Vinyl felt another muscle in her leg give out.
“Not helping,” Vinyl said, way too playfully. She took a deep breath to try and calm herself. “I mean, you said that you didn’t want to get back together and—”
“I do not recall speaking those words.”
“But you did!” Vinyl protested. She knew she had heard those words right. “After I said that I missed you, you said that you were sorry but we weren’t getting back together and—”
Octy tapped the back of Vinyl’s skull once. “Think, Vinyl. What did I say, exactly?”
“Er…I think I just said it, didn’t I? Or, well, paracrazed it.”
“Paraphrased,” Octy said with a laugh.
“Yeah, that.”
Vinyl felt Octavia sigh’s pass through her body. Great. She’d blown it. Octavia was about to tell her to go away and that they were really through. She wouldn’t even get a chance to play with her tonight.
Vinyl braced herself for the coming pain and closed her eyes in hopes that it would stop the tears.
“If you recall, Miss Scratch, I never said anything of the sort.” Vinyl’s eyes flew open. Those weren’t the words she had been expecting. “All I said was, ‘I apologize, Vinyl,’ and then you rudely cut me off. It was very inconsiderate of you.”
“Oh.” Vinyl ran the conversation back through her head. She had done that, hadn’t she? “Sorry.”
“What is worse, you presumed to know what I was about to say.” Vinyl felt Octavia’s hoof slap the back of her head, not exactly playfully either. “The arrogance of such a thing.”
“Yeah, I’m—”
“I am not finished,” Octavia said. “Worst of all, you cut me off because you were afraid of what I had to say. You were only thinking of yourself and your own well-being. Instead of facing the pain you thought was coming, instead of listening to me and considering my feelings, you chose to run away. That was incredibly selfish on your part, something I thought you had promised to work on. And look what your actions have led to. You have been reduced to a mare who is constantly second-guessing herself and can no longer form coherent thoughts because you are so afraid of what may happen. Your selfishness has made you afraid of your own shadow, and for what? To avoid some imagined pain? Is this really worth it?”
Vinyl was stunned. Octavia was upset with her. She could hear it in the mare’s voice.
“Choose your next words very carefully, Miss Scratch, or you will find yourself shortly on the floor, and then quickly out in the street.” Vinyl started to answer, but then Octavia added, “And ‘sorry’ is not the correct answer.”
So much for that. 
Vinyl’s mind raced faster than it ever had, and the fact that her body was aching in more ways than one made thinking even harder. Okay, she needed to figure out why Octavia was mad with her. That was easy. She had cut her off on the phone call. 
No, it was more than that. Feelings. She had hurt Octavia’s feelings. Okay, how had she done that? Not by cutting her off, but by being selfish. Octavia had said that Vinyl had only thought of herself. The same thing she had done the night of Octavia’s concert. Oh, this wasn’t good. If Octavia was feeling the same as she had the night of the concert…
No, I can fix this. She’s giving me a chance to fix this. Think. What does she want to hear?
A million thoughts ran through Vinyl’s mind in a flash. None of them seemed right. How could she prove that she cared about Octy’s feelings? Cared about them more than she cared about her own? Or herself?
That’s it!
“Um…what were you going to say, Octy?” Vinyl winced, waiting for the support under her to disappear and for her face to crash into the carpet, followed quickly by her heart.
Instead, she felt Octavia’s hooves reach out and grab her own, bring them in, and then gently place them over Octavia’s waist. Octavia then put one of her hooves on top of Vinyl’s and placed the other one back on the back of Vinyl’s head and started to stroke her mane.
“I was going to say that I apologize, but I needed some time to think. About you. And me. And us. I missed you too, terribly, but that was not good enough. Sometimes, things are simply not meant to be.” Vinyl fought with every ounce of her being to remain silent. “I needed to decide for myself if we could still work. Forgiving you was the simple part. Deciding if we could be together again, if I could take you back, if I should take you back, that was difficult. And I needed to be away from you of my own choosing before I could come up with a satisfying answer.”
Vinyl gulped, but remained silent. She wasn’t sure where this was going. She felt as though she stood on the edge of the needle on her turntable. One small misstep, and she would tumble down into the twisting blackness of the record, forever doomed to spin out of control.
“It is safe to speak again,” Octy whispered.
“Okay. So, uh…what answer did you choose?”
Vinyl felt Octy sigh in her forelegs again, heavier this time. “Vinyl Scratch, you are amazingly thick-headed. You are extremely lucky I find you attractive. And that you can do that certain thing.”
Vinyl’s face burned. “Oh, uh, yeah. That. Glad you like it. So…I take it the answer is yes?”
“Do you honestly think I would be working you up to the point where all I need to do is this,” Octy flicked her tail up between Vinyl’s hind legs and the DJ nearly crumpled, “and you collapse, if I had chosen otherwise?”
“I’m really hoping the answer to that one is no. Or I’m going to need to use your shower before I go home.” Vinyl’s vision was growing fuzzy. She needed to find something else to focus on before she lost herself. She needed to calm down quick.  A thought crossed her mind. 
“So, are we going to play tonight or not?”
“Playing instruments was not the type of playing I had in mind.” 
“Then...oh. Ooooooh.” Vinyl had been certain her body couldn’t get any hotter without catching fire. She had been wrong. “I’m not too good at this when I’m on the receiving end of this stuff, am I?”
Octy chuckled and stepped forward, settling onto all fours and turning to look at Vinyl. “I admit that you are a bit…dense sometimes. But it is part of why I love you.”
Vinyl fell forward and landed on her front hooves as well, though not as gracefully as Octy, and nearly collapsed. Her legs felt like they were made of cotton candy and her entire body felt like a sauna. Octy had managed to push so many of her buttons that Vinyl was certain she’d never be able to walk right again. She was putty in the cellist’s hooves now.
Still, she had to at least try to maintain some sort of dignity.
“See, you were doing great, and then you had to say something cheesy like that,” she said. Octy glared at her, giving her a stare that utterly destroyed any chance Vinyl had at fighting back. She lost herself in those amethyst eyes, and she wouldn’t have it any other way.
“I mean,” she said after a moment, “love you too, Tavi.”
Tavi bent down and grabbed Vinyl’s scarf with her mouth. She came up with the same look she had been wearing at the door and tugged on the scarf. Vinyl smiled as Tavi turned, scarf still in her mouth, and began to lead Vinyl down the hall.
Vinyl used her magic to take off her sunglasses and set them quietly on the couch as she passed. She noticed that the glow around them was a bright grey. Beaming, she turned back to the view in front of her and followed obediently. 
	
> I Am Your Best Friend (Alternate Ending)
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Octavia Melody sat on her sofa and stared at the wall. Or rather, she stared at the calendar hanging on her wall. It had been two weeks since she had returned from Ponyville, and while her life felt like it was back together, tonight was going to be the real test of that feeling. Tonight she would find out if she had wasted the past month worrying over a pony who was not worth worrying about, or if a certain mare was worthy of carrying the title of ‘best friend’.
Octavia glanced again at the phone sitting on her coffee table. Still no text or call. That both comforted her and caused her to worry.
On the one hoof, Vinyl not calling meant that she had not suddenly come down with something, or had a last minute change of plans, or that an old friend was dropping in. No messages meant that Vinyl had not cancelled on her.
Of course, it could very well mean the exact opposite. 
Octavia’s mind drifted back to the night of her last big performance, and the night so many things in her life had changed.
She had arrived for the show early, like always. She prided herself on arriving well ahead of the deadline for any of her performances. It gave her plenty of time to set up, introduce herself to sponsors, and see if anything further needed to be done on her part.
That night, nothing had been required of her. The stage had been set, the wiring and lights properly adjusted, Fredric’s piano had already been placed on stage, and everypony had had a clear idea of what needed to be done. So Octavia had spent her spare time sitting in her dressing room, trying to calm her nerves. She could handle playing in front of thousands of ponies, or even in front of Canterlot elite at events like the Grand Galloping Gala. But the thought of singing in front of ponies had terrified her. She had never done any professional singing in her life. She had sung a few times at small performances or when she had practiced with her ensemble, but never something as big as that night’s show. 
Thoughts of doubt had plagued her while she had sat alone, staring at her reflection in the dressing room’s mirror. What if she hit the wrong note? What if she forgot the words? What if it was off key? What if she tripped? What if her voice was not as pleasant as Beauty Brass, Fredric, and even Harpo, had insisted it was? What if she was shunned off stage?
A loud thought had drowned all those fears out of her mind. Vinyl would never let that happen. Octavia had smiled as that thought had sprung to life in her head. 
If any pony had dared to object to Octavia’s singing, Vinyl would track that pony down and possibly throttle them. She would certainly say harsh things, and very likely end up getting thrown out of the theater. She would cause such a commotion that the show would probably be put on hold, or even postponed, and Vinyl’s outburst would be on the front page the next day, not Octavia’s failings.
Certainly, Octavia would be crossed with the D.J., but secretly she knew she would be grateful. Vinyl would make a fool of herself if it meant saving Octavia from disgrace. She was that type of pony, and one of the reasons Octavia valued her so much.
Octavia had felt lighter after that thought, the weight of her doubts lifting from her shoulders. She had left the dressing room at that point and gone backstage. So many ponies had been shuffling and hurrying about, getting things set for the big moment. Octavia had peered around the curtain to look into the audience and had nearly fainted. 
The place had already started filling up. The filled seats had already outnumbered the open ones, and the open ones were quickly filling up as well. As Octavia had stared, baffled, as the last empty seats visible from the stage had been claimed, the doubts had swelled up again in her mind. Her breathing had become quicker and the bow tie around her neck had started to itch. Her amethyst eyes had scanned the crowd, until they had fallen on a calming sight.
A single chair in the front row had remained empty, with a piece of parchment sitting on it. Octavia had not been able to read the note from the stage, but she had known what it said: Reserved for Miss V. Scratch, by Miss O. Melody.  
Octavia had stared at the empty seat for several seconds as her nerves calmed down. Vinyl would be sitting up front, and if anything went wrong, all Octavia would have to do would be to look at her friend to know that everything would be fine.
The minutes had ticked by, and what was relief at the sight of an empty chair had slowly turned into worry. True, Vinyl was often running late for just about anything, but Octavia had made it very clear that the D.J. had had to be on time for the concert, or she would not be allowed in.
Finally, with only five minutes before curtain and still no sign of her blue mane friend, Octavia had found a quiet little corner backstage and dialed Vinyl’s number.
She had spent the rest of the night staring at an empty seat in the first row, hating herself for believing in Vinyl, and hating herself even more for realizing that, even after being stood up again, she would still forgive the mare.
No, she had decided right then. Missing her big singing performance, even after Octavia had stressed how important it was that Vinyl be there, had been the last straw. Something had broken in Octavia that night. She had heard it snap in her mind, felt it break in her chest, and had tasted it swelling in her throat. She had decided, as she had poured her pain and anguish into a song that had not originally been about Vinyl, that she and Vinyl were done. There would be no more forgiveness, no more second chances, no more softening of her heart.
When Vinyl had called after Octavia’s concert, Octavia had felt a sense of relief, even a sense of joy, when she had hit the ignore button.
Of course, Octavia had quickly realized something during the following weeks. When something broke, it needed to be fixed. It could not stay broken, or it would only grow worse. The damage would spread, until the decay ate away at everything, but even though she had realized that, she still had not been able to confront it. Because she had not been certain that she could fix it, at least not to the point where she would no longer have to worry about more.
As Octavia thought back on the past month, she was filled with conflicting emotions. The sadness ate at her, but it was still kept at bay by the embers of her anger, and both of those emotions bothered her. She and Vinyl had made up, due in no small part to their friends, but the feelings still lingered. 
Tonight, they will be put to rest. One way, or another. 
Octavia shook her head to clear it. It was not healthy to dwell on such negative thoughts and emotions. What would happen would happen. Either Vinyl would keep her promise, or Octavia would cut the pony out of her life completely and be done with her—no matter how much it hurt. 
Octavia looked at the clock. She needed to start getting ready. She and her ensemble had a performance tonight in upper Manehattan. The show had sold out within twenty-four hours, largely due to the fact that it was common knowledge that Equestria’s newest singing sensation would be playing. Octavia had had to pull several strings just to reserve a ticket for Vinyl. 
The cellist stood up from her sofa and walked into her bathroom. She needed to take a shower first. She stepped into the shower and sighed as the warm water flowed across and down her body. She hung her head so that the water beat down on the back of her neck and soaked her mane so that the black hair fell around her face. She reached out for her shampoo, knowing exactly where it was without having to look, and applied it to her mane and coat. She ran her hooves through her mane, scrubbing her scalp and feeling several of her worries dissolve with the soap. 
She lifted her face and allowed the warm water to splash against her muzzle and wash the suds away. She stayed in the shower for another five minutes, just letting the water soak into her muscles and relax her, before she turned it off and stepped out. She breathed deeply, inhaling the steam and enjoying the sudden temperature change. It felt brisk and did wonders for keeping her mind sharp. She grabbed a towel and dried herself, frizzing her mane and smiling to herself when she saw her reflection. If Vinyl could see her now, the D.J. would probably tell her to keep her mane that way. 
Knowing that she could never bring herself to willingly appear in public as such, Octavia straightened her mane and fixed it into her favorite style. She then brushed her coat, smoothing it out and combing it until it sparkled with the last drops of water that clung to it. After that she brushed her teeth and left the bathroom, feeling refreshed and ready to face her coming performance.
As she walked down the hall to her bedroom, she shot a look at her clock. She would need to leave in thirty-three minutes if she planned to make it to the concert hall an hour ahead of time like she always did. She made a mental note of that, then walked into her bedroom’s closet. 
Octavia did not own many clothes, despite frequently going to Canterlot. An elegant, if simple, black coat was the first thing that greeted her eyes. She only wore that when it was unbearably cold outside and snow covered the streets. It was chilly, but not enough to justify the coat. 
Next were her everyday clothes, if a pony who rarely wore clothes could have everyday clothes. Her saddlebags, a fashion saddle, socks, some dress shirts, a few skirts and dresses, and two jackets. Nothing terribly impressive, and certainly nothing fancy enough to wear to her concert.
She also noticed that Vinyl’s hat was hanging on the door hook, just where Octavia had left it when she had gone to Ponyville. 
Next was the dress she had worn at Rarity’s fashion show. The unicorn had been kind enough to give Octavia the article of clothing for free. She was not sure when she would ever wear it, as she was often at important events as part of the entertainment and not as a guest, but she had to admit that the thought of owning something so fashionable—and sexy, as Vinyl had pointed out—was thrilling. Perhaps she should wear it tonight? She was, after all, going to be the star of the show.
Octavia thought about that for a moment, then decided against it. She wanted her music and her singing to be the star, not her physical being.  She settled on her normal look: no clothes and her favorite bow tie around her neck. After she put it on, she checked herself in the closet mirror to make sure she had it perfectly straight, then left her bedroom.
She checked the clock again. She had twenty-one minutes before she needed to leave.
As she reentered her living room, she looked around for her cello. It was in its proper place right next to the door, ready to go. It had been considerably lighter since she had returned from Ponyville, and Octavia was glad for that. It meant that she would not need to see a physician about her weakening body. She was also starting to wonder if the entire thing had been in her head.
Octavia started to walk toward her kitchen, looking for something light to eat before she left, when she noticed the blinking light on her phone. She immediately dashed over to the cellular device, perhaps a bit quicker than she meant to, and turned it on. 
Five new texts in just the past ten minutes. Octavia’s eyes widened and she began to feel a little bit of doubt creep into her. Still, she opened the messages and braced herself.
“You there? I need to talk to you.”
“Hey, Octy, where are you?” 
“Respond already, filly”.
“Look, I’m running a bit late”
“Why won’t you holler back? Please tell me you haven’t left yet. You’re going to be so mad with me.”
Octavia felt her blood turn cold. The only reason she could think of as to why she would be cross with Vinyl would be if the D.J. had backed out at the last second. And all those texts certainly made it seem like she was trying to. Well, fine. If Vinyl did not value their friendship enough to make an effort, then she would not either.
Still, Octavia found that thought a little disheartening. After all she and Vinyl had gone through over the past month, after all Vinyl had said she had gone through, to realize that the unicorn had not truly learned anything from all of that was…it was unbelievable, even by Vinyl’s standards. Could she really fall right back into her old ways so quickly, after she had told Octavia how much of a wreck she had been? 
Another thought crossed Octavia’s mind, this one much darker than before.
What if that was the point? What if she played up all those feelings? What if those tears were for my benefit, because she knew I would never be able to turn her away after seeing her like that? 
Octavia’s blood boiled at the thought. How dare Vinyl think she could manipulate her like that! Using their bond as a form of emotional blackmail, believing that all she had to do was break down and cry again and Octavia would forgive her.
“If that is the case, Vinyl Scratch…” Octavia hissed to herself. She was not sure what she would do, but violence seemed like a very real possibility at the moment. At the very least, Vinyl would never be allowed anywhere near Octavia’s presence ever again. 
Furious to the point of shaking, Octavia set her phone back down on the coffee table—a little too hard—and tried to find something else to occupy her mind.  She dug through her refrigerator, but nothing seemed appetizing anymore.  Her bow tie was starting to scratch at her neck and she viciously tore it off and tossed it on the table. A few loose strands from her mane fell down and tickled the front of her face and she quickly brushed them aside, ruining her look. Her grey fur felt too hot and clung to her skin as sweat ran down her body.
How could Vinyl do this to her?
A sweet melody from the living room saved Octavia from going down her dark path. She walked back and found her phone ringing. She looked at the number and noted that it was Vinyl.
“She is likely calling in an attempt to apologize,” Octavia said to herself. She was not certain she wanted to talk to the D.J., but she felt that if she did not air her feelings right then, she would be unable to perform. 
She picked up the phone and answered the call.
“Yo, Octy, there…there you…are,” came Vinyl’s voice through the speaker. “I’ve been trying to—”
“Vinyl, if you are calling to—” Octavia suddenly realized that Vinyl was panting. “Is everything all right?”
“Huh? Oh…yeah. Everything’s…everything’s cool.”
Octavia focused for a minute, trying to hear other sounds besides Vinyl’s heavy breathing. “Are you…running?”
“Uh…yeah. I’m…I’m in a…a bit of a…hurry,” Vinyl said between gasps. 
“Oh really?” Octavia said, her eyes narrowing slightly. “And the reason for your haste?”
“I…I can’t…I can’t tell…you. Argh! This is so hard to run in!”
“I knew it!” Octavia said with a raised voice. “Vinyl, if this is you trying to get out of coming tonight, Celestia help me I will—”
“What? No. I’m…I’m coming, I—”
“I do not want to hear it!” Octavia shouted. “I cannot believe you! What did you do? Tick off some stallions and now they are casing you through Manehattan?”
“No, I’m—”
“If you are running from the authorities, I—”
“Octy, I’m…I’m not…running from any…anypony. I swear!”
“So you are going to be late to my show again? Vinyl how could you—”
“Hey, listen,” Vinyl’s breathing slowed down slightly and the sound of hooves pounding the ground vanished. “I’ve…I’ve got to go. I…I promise I’ll…be there…tonight.”
“Vinyl Scratch, do not dare hang up—” there was a beep and the phone ended “—on me.”  Octavia glared at her phone. Vinyl was just making excuses now. The D.J. fully intended to miss her performance again. Well that was just—
There was a banging on Octavia’s door that was so loud that she jumped and dropped her phone. Who in Equestria could that be? 
Octavia walked to her door and threw it open, feeling sorry for whoever was on the other side at the moment. She needed to vent to somepony, and this pony was going to listen to her, whether they wanted to or not.
“How may I…” Octavia stopped and just stared at the pony at her door. 
“Hey…Tavi. You…you look…a little…surprised.”
At the sound of her nickname—the one she had told Vinyl to never ever use unless the two of them were alone and goofing off in ways that Octavia would die of embarrassment from—the cellist suddenly became very aware of her appearance. Her mane was a mess from her pacing, her bow tie was laying somewhere in her house, her coat was no longer shiny but covered in sweat from her anger, and her eyes were wide with utter shock.
In short, she looked exactly like she normally did whenever Vinyl called her that, only instead of feeling exhilarated, she felt ashamed.
“What…what are you doing here?” Octavia asked, trying to recover. 
“I…I told you I’d be there tonight. I was afraid you…you had already…left and that…I had missed you. So…I had to hurry. And…Hey, can I have a glass of water?”
“Certainly.” Octavia opened the door all the way to let Vinyl in and the unicorn trudged into her living room. Octavia fetched a glass of water and brought it to her friend. The D.J. drank it in one swing. 
“Oh boy, thanks,” Vinyl said as she wiped her muzzle. “I ran all the way here. You have no idea how hard it is to run in a dress like this. Anyway, since I didn’t want to risk you thinking I’d flaked on you—not after last time, believe me—I decided I’d be your, well, date to your gig. You’re okay with that, right? Well, not date-date, but more like an escort? Uh, no, definitely not that. Wingpony? Except we’re not pegasi. Company? Does company work? I mean, the star shouldn’t be showing up to her big show solo, right?” 
Octavia nodded, still trying to grasp what she was looking at. Vinyl was wearing the dress she had worn at Rarity’s fashion show. It was a little wrinkled and scuffed in a few places, likely from her running, and it did not seem to be sitting as elegantly on her as it should be, but she was wearing it. That was the part that was baffling Octavia. Vinyl hated dressing up, especially in what she called ‘marey-mare’ outfits. 
“Why in the name of Celestia are you wearing that dress?” Octavia asked, no longer able to keep her mind silent.
“Well, you said tonight was important, and I thought I should look the part,” Vinyl said with a sheepish smile. “I…uh, couldn’t get my hair right. I was hoping you could help me with it.” Sure enough, the D.J.’s electric blue mane was its typical spiky mess. Octavia could see evidence of where Vinyl had tried to style it into something fashionable, but the attempts had been fruitless.
“You look fine,” Octavia said with a guilty smile. How could she have ever doubted her friend? Her best friend? She felt horrible for doing so. Vinyl had promised she would change, and instead of believing her, Octavia had doubted her the very moment the first opportunity had come up. She was not certain if she deserved to be called Vinyl’s best friend if this was how she thought of her.
“Good, because I think you need to fix your own look instead.” 
Octavia felt her stomach fall out. Vinyl was right! She quickly looked at the clock—she had three minutes—and realized there was not enough time to even take another shower, let alone get her appearance back up to standards. She could not go to her performance like this! She would be a laughing stalk! The papers would tear her down. She would bring shame to her ensemble. Her friends would never speak to her again if—
“Hey, Octy, calm down,” Vinyl said, cutting through her panic. Vinyl had always seemed to be able to tell when Octavia was having one of her nervous breakdowns, and right then it was a talent Octavia was glad the unicorn possessed. “You look fine. Here, let me help you a bit.” The unicorn’s horn glowed a soft blue and Octavia felt something tie around her neck. She looked down and saw her bow tie back in its rightful place, if a little crooked. “There. Now no pony will notice.”
“Yes they will,” Octavia said, flattered that her friend was trying to make her feel better, but knowing full well that she still looked like a right mess.
“Ugh. Fine. Then go put something on if you’re that worried. Wow the crowd and whatnot.”
Octavia’s eyes lit up. Sometimes, Vinyl knew just want to say. She dashed back into her room and opened her closet. The white dress with blue sapphires was still hanging there in perfect condition. She immediately slipped it on and sighed when she felt it fall around her body. Why had she decided not to wear the dress originally again? Her worries about her appearance disappeared the moment the fabric touched her coat. No pony would notice her scruffy appearance now, of that she was certain.
Octavia was about to close her closet when her eyes fell on another piece of clothing. She stared at it for a long moment, and then smiled to herself and pulled it off its hook. She walked back into the living room, her heart light and her mood finally relaxed for the first time that evening. 
“Damn, filly, you and I are going to rock this show tonight,” Vinyl said when Octavia came back out. The unicorn looked her over once and winked. “We’re going to be beating the stallions back with sticks. Or, well, you will be, anyway.”
“There will be no ‘rocking’ at my performance, Vinyl,” Octavia said, though she could not help but smile. “Although I am certain you will need your own stick. Just please try to behave yourself until after the performance at least.”
“I’ll try, but I’m sitting in the way back. It might be hard to not make a scene if I have to squeeze closer to see you.”
“Wait, what?” Octavia asked, confused.
“Yeah, sorry about this,” Vinyl said, looking down at the floor. She pulled out a ticket and made it float in front of her. “All the good seats were long sold out. This was the best I could do, and I still had to pay a scalper’s price for it. But hey, at least I’ll be there!”
Octavia’s heart melted. She would need to pay Vinyl back for her ticket of course, but the amount she was receiving for tonight’s performance was nothing to laugh at, so she would be able to do so. Still, the fact that the mare had been so determined to get a ticket to a sold out show meant a lot to the cellist, and it was something she would not soon forget.
“You are very sweet, Vinyl, but I have your ticket.”
“What?! Do you have any idea what I had to do to get this ticket?”
“You will be sitting up front.” Octavia smiled as the D.J.’s mouth fell open. “And before you even think of it, no, you cannot sell the ticket. It is reserved for you alone.”
“Nuts,” Vinyl said with a grin. “I mean, I wouldn’t dream of it. Thanks, Octy.”
“You are welcome, Vinyl,” Octavia said. “And…I apologize for yelling at you over the phone. I thought that—”
The unicorn held up a hoof and shook her head. “No problem. I would have thought I was bailing too if I was talking to me. Does that make sense? It made sense in my head.”
“Thank you, Vinyl,” Octavia said softly. 
“You bet!” The unicorn closed her eyes and grinned. “Uh…for what?”
Octavia giggled. “For being my friend. Now come along, we must be going. I do not wish to be late.” Octavia collected her cello and looked at the clock. She was ten minutes behind schedule, but she found that it did not bother her in the slightest. She walked out the door and into the cool night air. As she did, she pulled out the other piece of clothing she had collected from her closet and placed it on her head. The warmth it brought, both from the actual item and the memories attached to it, far outweighed the fact that her mane would be even messier when she arrived for her performance…and the fact that it was, at the end of the day, a bit of a fashion disaster.
“Oh wow, that’s an awesome hat,” Vinyl said. “Where’d you get it?”
“Why, my best friend made it for me. It is a bit like her, actually. Wild, unorganized, and sometimes a bit of an embarrassment—”
“Hey!”
“But, it is one of a kind and one of my most valued treasures.”
Vinyl walked up beside her, a smile spreading so far across her face that Octavia found it infectious.
“Must be a lucky pony then, for being so disorganized and crazy yet still able to be called your best friend.”
“I like to think so, and she seems to realize how important that is now too. I like to think I am her best friend too.”
“I’d bet my entire sound system and all my records that you are.”
The two friends walked down the street toward the theater where Octavia would be performing. Normally, Octavia would have been frantic because she had left her home ten minutes late, meaning that she would arrive with only fifty minutes before curtain instead of her usual hour, but she did not care tonight. Instead, she found herself enjoying the company of her friend while the two of them walked together and talked about everything and nothing at the same time. She would still have plenty of time to prepare for her show, and with her best friend sitting right up front, she knew that there were a lot less things she would need to worry about.