Octavia and Frederic
Octavia waltzed into the doorway of the music building. She hummed a simple tune to herself as she trotted through the revolving doors and continued towards the main studio. Oddly, she wasn’t carrying her cello case with her. She didn’t intend to play music today, however.
Her mind was occupied with a colt that had caught her attention recently; one of her band mates and her best friend, before Scratch, Frederic. A stoic and reserved pony, Frederic tended to be cold and simple. He rarely dwelled on emotional or spiritual subjects, save for philosophical discussions where he kept his attitude level and his tie neat. When he did speak, he used brevity to the greatest of his ability. He acted, and played, calmly without gloating or downplaying his work. He was neither humble nor a braggart. The clothes he wore were little, he paid for his essentials as minimally as possible, and he was straight to the point, down to earth. At the same time, he stood behind his band-mates. Frederic backed them up when they needed it, paid for their lunches, kept them in good shape for concerts. So why did Octavia care about him?
It started two weeks before, with Vinyl Scratch, her ex. The two were an odd pair; especially because they had conflicting musical preferences and personalities. Scratch was a DJ and played at nightclubs, Octavia held concerts at fancy parties. Their attitudes often got in the way of their relationship. Sometimes Scratch would come home with a drunk buddy or two, to which Octavia would have to deal with by bucking their plots out the door. Octavia would sometimes chuck some of Vinyl’s equipment and records out the window, something to which the DJ would protest and complain to no avail. Yet, they somehow managed to love and tolerate one another.
At least until two weeks ago. Octavia had been looking for her, worried that she was recovering from a party she had gone to. Vinyl did this frequently, without letting Octavia know beforehand. Octavia assumed she would just find her in one of those out-of-the-way clubs again.
She did. But Scratch wasn’t alone. She was in the company of a MC known as Neon Lights. And Octavia didn’t like the way that Neon was giving Scratch small pecks on the neck and cheek.
Nor did she like Scratch’s explanation. Apparently, Neon was just a side order. Scratch’s analogy of their relationship, however, just made the conversation worse. A debate turned into an argument, and an argument turned into a move out. Neither Scratch nor Octavia did well afterwards.
As far as Octavia knew, Scratch stayed with Neon, while she was left alone. The first few days following the split, Octavia locked herself in her apartment. She sat at the table where Scratch used to exclaim the excitement she found while cleaning the dishes with “wubs”. She remembered the days they spent bickering, the shenanigans that they got into, and the parties that they would attend. And she would remember the days where they stayed home, and squeezed each other tightly on those long Saturday nights. All of which were gone.
One week passed. Then the one pony she least expected came around. Frederic. Octavia let him in. She let her eyes soak into his warm fur as she recalled the days when Scratch came home late, when the two would watch late-night talk shows and cartoons. Days when it was Scratch’s turn to cook, she plugged her 42 decibel speakers into the wall and tried to fry eggs. Days when they were done arguing about music, they would cuddle on the couch let the radio play classical and modern as the same time. And he listened with the deepest concern and sweetest eyes. Features that Octavia never knew he had. Features that she had only known when they were foals, when Frederic was innocent, full of energy and passion.
On the sixth, seventh, and eighth day, Frederic spent most of his time with her. Octavia got to know his more sensitive side as he encouraged her to shake her mind off of Vinyl. He reminded her that she had concerts and parties to attend. The ponies of high society were impatient to see their favorite cellist back on the stage. Her fans cried out for her return. Octavia wouldn’t go; she didn’t want other ponies to see her in such an emotional state. She could only wish that things had gone differently with Scratch; regret continued to gnaw at her brain.
But then Frederic told her that she should find solace in playing music. He said it was a trick that worked whenever he felt down. So, he brought her to the studio, and he motioned for her to follow along as he played the piano. At first, she could only sit in painful depression as he played. The memories and tears only hurt more. Frederic’s piano said nothing to her.
Then Frederic played an old Hoof Beats tune, “Let It Be”. She remembered what it was like to pluck and stroke the strings of her cello. They sounded so deep and meaningful to her before. Though it was a piano she heard, it spoke to her much like her cello did. Now, it sat in the corner, lonely. The cello without a player befriended dust, and the only sounds that it remarked were the rubbings of dust inside its body. Octavia needed another friend in these hard times. Her hoof twitched. Slowly, she picked up her bow. And then she played tunes that reminded her of the comforting sound of her cello. Frederic harmonized with her, and they played long into the night.
On the next few days, her conversations with Frederic became more lighthearted, though Frederic slowly went back to his stoic, yet respectful self. Still, Octavia found Frederic to be more than the stone-like professional he was. What little she knew about him before came to be revealed. He cared nothing for himself, except a code of honor that established his status as a gentlepony. Frederic was a pony-being who only wanted what was best for everyone, including her. If his friends needed a hoof, he would give every one he had. His manner wasn’t just being polite. His friends meant something to him.
These qualities made Octavia see something special in Frederic. Octavia wondered if she was ready to pursue somepony else after such an emotional breakdown. Two days were all she needed to make a decision. She needed someone to comfort and care for her, like Scratch did. Her intercourse with Frederic continued, with him pounding away at the keys while she admired his work. And one day, Octavia subtly tried to get Frederic’s attention by sitting on his piano.
It annoyed him.
“Are you going to just sit there?”
“As compared to what? Standing?”
“That was a sarcastic question. But I would like to keep the piano open.”
“I’m certain that you can get by with it closed.”
“I prefer hearing the sound of my piano with it open.”
“Well, I need a comfortable place to sit.”
“*sigh*”
She couldn’t blame him for acting like this; Frederic was easily irritated. He always wanted things to go so perfectly. Distractions only put him in a bad mood. Octavia didn’t give up though. She continued to flirt with Frederic. He would ignore her, or not notice, too caught up in his work to return her feelings. It almost seemed like he didn’t want her around.
And so their conversations continued like this for several days. Octavia would continue to flirt with him in a not so obvious manner. Yet, their relationship turned into nothing more. Frederic would just keep plinking away, sometimes giving Octavia annoyed looks to indicate his displeasure. By the third conversation, he just gave up on getting her off the piano. Since four days, five conversations passed since Octavia realized her feelings for Frederic. And every single time, Octavia was rejected or unnoticed.
But not today, she thought. Things will go differently today.
Octavia forced the door of the studio behind her. She looked up to find the piano player in his usual routine. He looked up, startled by her appearance.
“Oh. I didn’t expect to see you here,” said Frederic. “Are you practicing?”
“No. I just feel the need to talk,” she replied.
“Mmm. Still getting over her?”
“I already did.”
Frederic’s eyelids shifted. He looked up for a moment, and returned his eyes to Octavia’s view.
“I suppose you just need some company.”
“Quite right,” the cellist replied.
She strutted up to Frederic’s piano, and placed her forehooves on its front. She turned around to look at the studio, and leaned on the piano. A short silence passed while Frederic played. Then Octavia lifted her back onto the instrument, and sat on its tip.
Another silence passed.
“So, I never heard this one before. It’s quite uplifting,” Octavia commented.
Frederic smiled. “It’s a theme tune to one of those newspaper comics that received its own T.V. show. Can’t remember the name though…”
“How about I name a few, see if it’s the one?”
“Go on.”
“Haybert?”
“No.”
“Twily and Smarty?”
“Close.”
“The one with the colt who can’t kick a hoofball, win a baseball game, or do anything else right?” Octavia questioned. “I forgot the name too, unfortunately,” she muttered.
“That’s the one,” Frederic beamed before resuming.
Octavia shuffled her hooves and contemplated their next conversation. A little small talk might break the ice. Maybe I should just continue with a little subtlety.
She shifted her body backwards towards the keys. “I spoke with Beauty the other day. She said that she found her own special somepony.”
Frederic didn’t look up from his work. “Mmm. Who’s the colt?”
Octavia turned her head slightly. “Actually, it’s a filly.”
“Oh.” Frederic stroked his hair back. “Who is it? Anypony I know?”
She sighed, then returned Frederic’s gaze with a slight smile. “That’s the weird part, actually. It’s Fiddlesticks.”
Octavia felt some color come to her cheeks as she squeaked to herself. He didn’t seem to care. “Did you know about that? I’m sure your cousin would have informed you beforehoof,” he commented.
“She didn’t know how she felt at first. Fiddle, unlike Beauty, is energetic. Yet, she deals with emotional dilemmas like these with deep thought. Thinking about it right now, it probably was that time we visited Ponyville and stayed at the Apples’ house. Fiddle spent a lot of time with her. I think Beauty even asked her out on a date, though none of us knew.
“When we left, Fiddle had difficulty saying goodbye. Not because she missed us, but I noticed that something was nagging her. I asked if she was alright. She just brushed off the talk as if it was nothing.
“And now Beauty tells me she saw her at another concert in Ponyville. They reconciled their feelings for one another, and are now a happy couple.” Octavia sighed to herself. “Sort of like my relationship with Scratch, huh?”
Frederic looked up again. “I thought you said you got over her.”
“I did.”
“Is something still on your mind though?”
A small 5-second pause passed. “I guess…finding somepony else is the problem,” she said quietly.
Frederic didn’t look up at her.
Octavia adjusted her body on the piano. Maybe I should be a little more open.
She continued, “Who do you think I should date? Maybe one of my types; a calm, yet assertive one. Somepony who I can relate to on a regular basis.”
“You don’t want to date someone like Scratch again? Maybe one of the Wonderbolts?” Frederic inquired.
“No, I want somepony who will get to know me well.” She paused. “Maybe I should date one of my close friends. They already know me anyway,” she replied. As she remarked this, she slowly shifted her body backwards, and placed her hoof at the edge of the piano where the keys were. Her hoof edged a little closer to Frederic’s.
Frederic took a long look at Octavia. He placed his left hoof on his chin to pause for a moment. He looked down at his keys. His head suddenly raised, and he gave a smug smirk.
“Maybe you could try dating the Doctor.”
“Frederic! You know he’s 900 years old!” Octavia returned, startled.
“Just joking you know.” He paused to adjust his bowtie and clear his throat. “Anyway, you’re right. The Doctor may have taken you out hundreds of times, but he’s out of your league. Besides, taking you out didn’t mean it was a date to him. He just needed friends for a very dangerous lifestyle-” Frederic began to play again “-And he prefers staying single.”
“Tell me about it,” she said, albeit not amused by Frederic’s humor. Great call, Frederic. I wonder if you really meant that.
He played a few notes, regaining his stoic look, then added, “Maybe Harpo? He seems to be the kind of pony you’d want to be with.”
Octavia gave him a sarcastic look. “There’s a problem with that.”
“What?”
“He swings too.”
“Hmm. It does explain a few of his mannerisms.”
“I’d probably go for someone who plays a more elegant instrument,” the cellist continued.
“Ah, I see. You’re leaning towards Concerto, are you?”
He does show a certain lack of initiative. I’ve already given him several opportunities.
Octavia sighed. “Well, I guess I shouldn’t just narrow it down to my friends.” She leaned back on the piano. “Maybe I shouldn’t even think about finding my special somepony now.” Her head shifted to face her interest. “It’s actually slightly depressing to think about it though.”
Her forearms supported her upper body as she leaned her head closer to Frederic. “I always felt a little lonely, surrounded by high society and luxury. Fame and fortune didn’t have appeal to me. All I found enjoyable about this life was the music. Whether I was playing solo, or with you and the others, I felt I was creating works of art. I was crafting my own personal image, and conveying it towards my listeners, letting them know what kind of a pony I was. Yet, despite my acquaintances and friendships, I somehow still felt lonely.
“Meeting Vinyl was different. I still don’t understand how we got along, those few months. She just enjoyed everything about life. I wanted to go everywhere with her, be there for every tragedy, every joyous moment that she had. And she would have done the same.”
Octavia felt the breeze leave her mouth. “But we couldn’t get along. We just found too many differences between each other. Her mannerisms got in the way of my work. My complaints put off her friends and made her blame me. We just couldn’t stay together.”
Frederic hardly moved. His body language said, “I’ve heard this before.”
The cellist stared at Frederic, faced down, playing away. The muscles in her face tightened, and she leaned in towards his face.
“And then you come along. You know, I can’t thank you enough for that, or anything else, for the matter. You’ve always kept our band up. Whenever we had a large gig to play, you kept us practicing up until the last day before the performance. And you care for everypony in the band too. After the Gala, you paid for our bus tickets while you trotted home. And I thought we never would have survived as a band throughout tough times. Yet, you managed to keep our spirits up, and we made it through."
She leaned her hooves sideways, and supported herself with her forearms. “Even since we were foals, you did everything for me. You let your grades drop just to help me with my first final. You defended me against my overly strict teacher in 6th. You helped me without Vinyl. And here we are now.”
Octavia leaned her hoof forward. She touched Frederic’s chin, and brought it up to face her. The music stopped.
She smiled. “It may never be enough to repay everything you’ve ever done for me, Frederic. But thank you.”
Frederic’s face shifted. She could feel that she had finally broken down this barrier that separated them. He returned her smile.
“You’re welcome,” he said, before letting his face drop and return to his routine. Like he always did.
Octavia felt her smile fall. The pupils in her eyes became moist, and her body slumped on the piano. Everything for her slowed down. It was as if Frederic had intentionally reinforced the wall that surrounded him. He had closed himself off to her.
Something built up in her mind, though. Something that had to deal with all of Frederic’s lack of emotion for the past five days. She couldn’t stand trying to hammer away at his hard skin without making a dent. She couldn’t deal with his brashness anymore. And she wouldn’t.
“Oh, for Celestia’s sake, Frederic! Do you know what I’m getting at!” she cried. Her yells rebounded off of the walls of the soundproofed studio, back onto the ears of the hapless pianist. Frederic nearly fell off his bench.
“My Goddess, you can be so cold!” she continued. “And so naïve.”
The room became quiet again. But only for a moment.
Her heart shifted, pleading for an answer. “Haven’t you figured it out?”
Frederic’s mouth was agape, unable to comprehend the reasons for her outburst. He could only try to understand with what little brain power he had at the moment to process what had just happened. “I-“
“Frederic, don’t you see! I love you!” she cried, exasperated.
His once unfeeling eyes now only showed confusion, then regret. Frederic’s mouth finally closed, and he attempted to mouth out his next words. “Octavia, I-I’m so sorry…”
“Forget it. Like you’d care anyway,” she retorted. Giving one final heavy breath, she pushed herself off the piano and stood by the bench. Her head faced away for several seconds, then finally faced her band mate.
“You understand, at least? You made me feel loved again. Gave me purpose. You showed me how music can bring one back from the depths. Your brilliant craftsmanship with that-“ she pointed his instrument “-saved me. And for once in your life, you showed that you had a sweet side. Nopony else in our band ever got to see you like that. You only showed me.”
Octavia forced a smile, trying to deal with rejection yet again. “Frederic, at the least, you could show that you appreciate everything I have said. Yet, these past few days, you only turned me away. How you can go from being so caring to stoic, I do not know.”
She tried to keep that smile going, to no avail. Her mouth gave away to a scowl, and she said, quite loudly, “If you can’t see what you mean to me, you might as well admit that you care more about your music than me.”
Octavia turned away from Frederic, and began to trot down the steps towards the exit. “Enjoy your evening, Frederic.”
So began one of the longest walks of her life. She wondered if her heart had ripped in two that day, or if it had been slowly torn to shreds over the days that followed. Frederic would avoid her altogether, engaging in conversation with the rest of the band. Only when her performances turned sour would he ever try to talk to her. It wasn’t much, either. A few cold words of advice never are. Octavia would descend into the same bleak depression that took her when she left Vinyl. She would be all alone again, have to pay the rent on her own, practice alone. She wouldn’t even be able to hang out with her band-mates, let alone Frederic. Vinyl wouldn’t have time for her, either. The rejection had caught up to her, and her talent began to decline. Whatever reassurance she once had from her cello now meant nothing to her. The music just wouldn’t play. She would never play again, never see the lights of the concert hall, never be in the company of good friends, never be with the one she want-
“Octavia, wait.”
She stopped, breaking her depressing fantasy. “You have nothing else to say to me. It’s done, Frederic.”
“Octavia, please, let me explain mysel-“
“What could you possibly say that would change my mind?”
Frederic hesitated. She didn’t even wait for him to answer. The cellist had reached the door to the studio. And he was about to lose his chance.
He urgently stepped down from his piano. With the kindest eyes he could fathom, he put on a modest grin. “Maybe just a few words?”
His companion stared at the doors in front of her. Like it would matter, anyway. “Why am I giving you this opportunity?” she spoke.
Frederic trotted a few steps over to her, but remained at a distance. “Because I was giving the wrong signals when I acted so coldly towards you all those years.” He began to close the distance. “You see, Octavia, I always put my friends before my music. The Ensemble wouldn’t be complete without you or the others.”
“Then why wouldn’t you show that to us? Why wouldn’t you tell that to me?”
“Because I…“ He chose his next words carefully.
“Because I’ve been trying-“ Frederic breathed one more time “-not to think about you.”
Her head turned. Uncertain whether what he meant was different from what she thought he meant, Octavia completed her turn to fully face her band mate.
“Octavia, you are one of the greatest musicians I’ve ever known. I’ve known you long enough to see your greatest performances and abilities. I never see anything wrong with you, even when you aren’t at your best. Ever since we’ve met, I cherished you. I was behind you at every test, every rehearsal, every concert. Yet, I never wanted my feelings to get in the way of your music or my own.
“I restrained my emotions wherever we went. I thought telling you would cause us to drift apart. You would never think of your old friend as anything more. You cared about your work just as much as I did, if not more. Me getting in the way would just mess up your career. I tried to show my affection in other ways. Practicing with you, buying you coffee. And I never said a word. How selfish of me.”
He edged closer, then sat on the floor in front of her, retaining his straight stance. She did the same. Frederic continued, “I said nothing while you were with Vinyl. She was perfect for you. You two got along so well. When you weren’t, I always kept hope that you would resolve whatever issues you had. Tartarus, I even helped Vinyl pick a bouquet for you after you had an argument over her applications of her abnormally huge speakers. Whatever problems you two had would vanish, and everything would go back to normal. I was hoping that you two would last, actually. It would have finally cleared my thoughts of you. Or so I hoped.
“I guess I just had wishful thinking. Whether you made it with her, or not, I would be satisfied. Though it went the latter way, I felt so guilty thinking that it would be over. I never thought you would lose your confidence in your ability to play music. Nor did I foresee that you wouldn’t have anything to do with music altogether. You couldn’t survive without her, or without help. So I stepped in. The Ensemble needed you back. And I couldn’t stand to see you shut yourself in your room, thinking that you had no life left to live through music.
“Again, I thought life would go on normally for us afterwards. I thought I would just forget about you altogether. All I wanted was to spend all those precious moments comforting you, bringing you back. Then, I would leave you be. If that’s all I could have, I would have been happy.”
Frederic focused on Octavia’s right hoof. He slowly reached for its center, then took it up. “Octavia, I’m sorry for being so stoic. I should have never denied you the truth. You deserved better.” He returned his gaze to her. “Can you forgive me?”
Her expression said nothing. It took moments for her to confirm whether Frederic spoke the truth or not. Was he sure about his own feelings? Did he accept her own? Could something good come out of this? Octavia wasn’t sure. Then an endearing smile broke upon her face. She knew for sure now. “I forgive you, Frederic.”
The pianist let her hoof down. He nearly felt himself let his own tears fall. “Thank you,” he quietly replied. “Thank you,” he repeated.
The silence that followed lasted a few short minutes. Neither pony could come up with a suggestion, nor did they formulate in their minds what action to take next. The two retained their quiet demeanor out of politeness, yet their good behavior was getting them nowhere. It only made the situation more awkward. Finally, Frederic ended the moment:
“Would you like to get some coffee?”
Octavia reached over to the door, and held it open for him.
“That sounds excellent.”
He trotted through the door, letting the mare trot alongside him first before they began the walk down the hall to the exit. As they trotted, the two caught themselves giving each other innocent smiles and sweet looks. They knew what the other was thinking, too. Neither of them minded. It was a start for both of them, and that was enough. What would happen afterward would require little discussion, and they would talk it out over some activities to pass the time, or whatever young couples did. It was a start, and that was enough.
When they reached the door, Octavia had one more word to say.
“Frederic?”
“Hmm?”
“Would you mind if I sat on your piano more often?”
Frederic opened the door for her.
“You may sit on it anytime you like.”