Vinyl attempts to woo Octavia, in a parallel to their stage company's production of Romeo and Juliet. How will our gentle Romeo fare? Is this but a repetition of an ages old tragedy?
Vinyl has spent many a production behind the scenes, a lowly audio tech waiting in the wings. But she can't help but become awestruck by the beauty that is Black Rose Company's star actress, Octavia Philharmonica. After months of waiting, Vinyl finally gets a chance to befriend Octavia, and sets off on her ensuing quest to win her lady's heart.
All of these chapters are excitedly proofread by the wonderful and lovely jlm123hi, who is just such an excellent editor, and individual. I'm glad he's chosen to work with me.
This performance may have been over, but the play was not. The tall, slim, elegant woman onstage took her bows with the rest of the cast, her long, silky midnight tresses catching and reflecting the light of the brilliant stage lights and the spotlight trained on her. She is my lovely Juliette, and I, her humble Romeo, forced to watch her glory from the dark recesses of the wings.
Octavia took her last bow, and then came sweeping back into the wings of the stage. Heading to her dressing room, she hugged a few of the other cast members as I began wrapping up various cables and wires. Catching my eye, she flashed me a short smile, let me remove her stage mic, and glided off to change. I sighed softly, watching her disappear into the dimly lit hallway leading off the stage. We're close, indeed, but not as close as I'd like to be. I am her mic and equipment tech, but really not anything more. I'm nearly certain she is only friendly with me because I have always fixed every problem with her electronics promptly this season. We have the occasional night out with other members of the group, but nothing ever to just ourselves.
Shaking my head to dismiss my torturous thoughts, I finished packing the audio cables into the black crate waiting in the corner. I saw that Caramel and Noteworthy had already replaced their crates, ready to go for tomorrow night's show. It was our last performance on our home stage in Manehatten; after tomorrow night, we would hit the road to tour the country for a year or so. We had heard rumors that there would be talent scouts in the audience, looking to recruit members of the cast to other companies, other shows. I fervently hoped that no one would seek to tear Octavia away from the show she loved so much, though I know she would be elated to move on to a bigger production. Romeo and Juliet is an old classic, a play someone will always be performing somewhere.
I shook my head and picked up mics one and eight, Juliet's and the Nurse's. Glancing to make sure they were turned off, I strolled over to the recessed panel on the wall that held the actor's mics, and slotted them into place. I saw movement behind the other curtain, and I looked up to wave at Doc, the senior stage manager. I wasn't quite there yet, but I was happy to be junior manager. Flashing him a quick thumbs up to let him know things were squared away on my side of the stage, I began walking back to the stagehand locker room, the first room in the hallway that also held the dressing rooms for the stars. I sighed softly, releasing the tension of the night, and stepped inside to gather my things.
A few minutes later, I had changed out of my dirty, dusty, still slightly sweaty black shirt and jeans into my street clothes, and I headed for the door. A little under a half hour had passed since the play ended, about normal for packing up on a home stage, and I was exhausted and ready to go home. Opening the door, I hoisted my backpack a little higher on my shoulder and was about to set off for my Liberty in the parking lot, when I felt something heavy bounce off the door. Of course there was a person out there. Probably one of those meat headed actors.
"What the heck? Watch what you're doing, idiot! You could've gotten - oh..." It was Octavia, sprawled out on the dusty floor and holding her arm. I panicked. Why did it have to be her?
"Octavia! Are you alright? I'm terribly sorry, it was my fault. I should have been more careful opening the door." I stretched out my arm to help her up, and she gripped my hand warmly with strong, slender fingers. She chuckled lightly.
"I'm not sure how you were supposed to look through solid oak to see me, but if that's your opinion... I should have been more careful myself. I forgot this door opened outward. Vinyl, isn't it? Thank you for your concern, I'm quite alright." Octavia shook my hand firmly, and then released her grip. She had held my hand this entire time, just slightly too long for my comfort. I blushed lightly, and shrugged off her thanks. I jammed my hands in the pockets of my jeans, and stood awkwardly in the silence that followed. There was a brief hesitation, and I realize that Octavia expected me to speak, but then she seemed to come to a resolve of her own.
"So, Vinyl? Some of the girls and I were planning to go out drinking for a bit, to celebrate while we can. Tomorrow, we'll be too busy packing. Would you care to come with us?" I blinked in response. Octavia had never invited me anywhere before. Usually one of the other actors would take me along for company. And generally, the girls would invite all of their boyfriends. I guess tonight was a girls' night.
"I... Yeah. Sure. I'll go. Probably won't be drinking, but I'll go out with you girls." I hoped this was the right course of action. Octavia beamed at me, so I assume it at least made her happy.
"Good! They're all gathered out back, waiting on me. I don't think they'll mind, especially if you're my guest. Ready to go?" Octavia held out her hand toward the door leading off the stage.
"Almost. Give me five seconds to turn off the work lights and lock up." Octavia nodded, and I dropped my backpack at her feet, then dashed off to flip down the panel of switches on the back wall and lock the stage doors. Five minutes later, I jogged back down the long corridor to find Octavia still patiently waiting. She smiled at me as I approached, and I reached down to swing my backpack up on my shoulders. As it settled comfortably on my old brown leather jacket, I held out my arm, and escorted Octavia out of the building.
We walked a hundred feet around the side of the building to get to the back of the theater. Octavia’s friends were waiting, as promised. She waved a casual hello to them, and they waved excitedly back. I managed a nervous smile and a half hearted wave, and they responded enthusiastically. Maybe this night wouldn’t be so bad after all. Maybe I would make some new friends. That could be nice.
Octavia and I soon came close to the three girls, and I recognized them eventually. The short blonde was Lyra, the willowy brunette standing close to her was BonBon, and the other dark-haired girl was Symphony Strings. All were in the pit orchestra, which surprised me immensely. I knew these girls. I spent lots of time with them, setting up their audio cables and checking up on their equipment. I didn’t expect Octavia to have friends in the orchestra. Usually actors and musicians tended to stay to their respective groups. I smiled pleasantly at the girls, and they grinned back in turn. I realized that the night was going to be very fun, indeed.
Lyra and BonBon walked up to me and sandwiched me in a hug. I laughed and hugged them back, and then turned to Octavia. She stood a foot away, an amused expression on her face. These two girls were incredibly friendly and affectionate, especially with each other. I loved them dearly, and I might even say they were two of my closest friends. Eventually, long after was ordinarily acceptable and polite, they stepped away to hug Octavia. When they were done greeting her, she turned to me.
“You know these two? At least, I would hope you would, after a hello like that.” I nodded, and said hi to Symphony.
“Oh, yeah. We’ve known each other for a long time. Lyra and I have been friends since we met at the performing arts academy of our high school, and BonBon was the first person to be kind to us on our first day with this theater group. I don’t know Symphony quite as well, but I would assume you two are good friends,” I added as Symphony hugged Octavia tightly, the way only best friends do.
“We met back in the third grade, and we’ve been inseparable since. She’s like the sister I never had.” Symphony smiled at this, and I watched the two of them finish their hellos. I spotted Lyra about to step out to hail a cab, and I called out to stop her.
“Hey there! Lyra, I have a car. We can all go in it. I’ve got five seats in the Liberty. Doesn’t cost as much as a cab, and it’s a lot friendlier. How about I go get it from the employee parking lot, and I’ll drive around to get you guys?” The girls nodded or spoke their agreement, and I readjusted my pack on my shoulders and set off for the lot. Octavia called after me, and then jogged to catch up. I let her come with me, as I didn’t really mind the company this late at night in a pretty much abandoned parking lot.
After a few minutes, we reached my car, and I unlocked it with the keyless entry tag. I popped the hatch and tossed my pack inside, and gestured for Octavia to take the front seat. She opened the door and slid in gracefully, and I merely hopped into the driver’s seat. Sitting in this quiet, enclosed space with her was doing awful things to my heart rate, so I quickly put the key in the ignition and started the car. Warm air blew softly from the vents, and I tuned the radio to my favorite rock station. Finally, I put the car in Drive, and cruised back down the short length of street to reach the other girls.
I breathed out a sigh of relief when they clambered into the back, glad to not be entirely alone with Octavia anymore, and then I drove off down the street to reach the main road once they were buckled into their seats. I concentrated on driving, even as Octavia reached toward me to turn up the volume on the radio. I glanced at her questioningly, and she smiled and said, “My favorite song,” as an explanation. The girls filled the car with meaningless friendly chatter for the next several minutes as I drove. I smiled occasionally as Lyra would tell a particularly funny story from our adolescence. Those were good years, together with her.
About five minutes later, I had reached the little jazz bar that Octavia had directed me to. It was a quaint little place, clean and bright, but not exactly something the upper echelons would ever visit. Which was fine by me, because I enjoy the company of common people more than “high class” individuals, even if I technically belonged to the rich and elite. I chose to align myself with the “lower classes”, as it were.
We all exited the car and grouped up to enter the bar. I could smell the scents of warm food and mild alcohol inside, accompanied by the strains of jazz. It was a comforting mix, relaxing and pleasant. I would enjoy myself tonight, even without drinking. I had ensured that I was the designated driver by choosing to take everyone in my car. But that was fine, because I didn’t particularly care for alcohol, anyway. Octavia linked her arm with Symphony’s, and I felt a slight twinge of jealousy that I quickly pushed down. I locked the car with the key fob, and strolled up to join Lyra and BonBon. I felt like I was majorly third-wheeling, but there was really nothing I could do. A group of five is always awkward.
I held open the door for all of the girls, and then let myself into the bar. It was my first time at this particular joint, but I already liked the atmosphere. Sweet swing music flowed under the noise of soft chatter and dining, and the whole building had a cozy, homey feel to it. This bar was more of a limited-menu restaurant than strictly a place to consume alcohol, and soon a waitress came over to show us to our table. She was a pretty thing of twenty-something, maybe thirty. Nice hips, and sleek, dark hair that was swept up into a messy bun at the back of her head. I may have to just leave my number out for her before we leave. I might be currently campaigning after Octavia, but that doesn’t mean I can’t pick up some fun along the way to my victory.
Soon, we were seated at a respectably clean corner booth, and we placed our orders; Lyra chose the house beer and a burger, BonBon and Symphony both decided to split a bottle of Oban Single Malt and a large basket of fries, Octavia opted for a glass of Jura and a basket of onion rings to share with me, and I selected water. The waitress scribbled down our orders, and hurried off to the kitchen to place them. I couldn’t help but stare as she sashayed away, and when I turned back around as she entered the double doors leading to the back, I saw four pairs of eyes scrutinizing me.
“What? Come on, like you’ve never seen a gorgeous woman before. Don’t give me that. I know you better.” I rolled my eyes at them, slouched a little in my seat, and crossed my arms self consciously over my chest. I was thoroughly embarrassed that they had caught me, but I wasn’t going to let it show. Octavia spoke, likely to chastise me.
“It’s not that, I guess we all just had it in our heads that you were straight. Heteronormative society, as it is, dictates that to us as a common occurrence.” I blushed when she said this. Of course they didn’t know. I had hid my orientation relatively well, especially during college. That’s a dangerous time for curious girls. Lyra just giggled at my red face, and leaned a little closer over the table, and looked at us all conspiratorily.
“Just between us five, she’s not the only one here checking out that waitress. I’m liking the sight of that booty. Unfortunately for her, I’ve already got myself a hot date for tonight. Isn’t that right, Bon?” BonBon blushed deeply as Lyra threw her arm around her shoulders. She ducked out from underneath her hold, and scooted subtly away from Lyra.
“No, you do not have a hot date tonight. Please don’t start that again. The more you flirt, the more everyone else starts rumors about us. Why can’t we just be normal friends for the next couple of hours? Please?” BonBon turned to face Lyra, who merely shrugged, and grinned devilishly at the rest of us. Leave it to Ly to flirt with every girl in the room… But she had a thing for Bon, a special preference when she flirted. I was pretty sure I was the only one who knew that all of that teasing was secretly being used to hide actual affection. Ly was never good at expressing herself, and she was also afraid to lose one of her closest friends. I don’t think Bon would ever reject Ly, just the romantic notions Ly might have going on in her head.
“It’s alright. I think she’s just teasing, Bon. And I certainly don’t believe anyone at this table would start rumors. We’re all good friends, aren’t we? No problem here,” Symphony said. Octavia remained strangely quiet, picking at a chip in the wooden surface of the table during the whole incident. Odd. I didn’t have any further time to ponder this, though, because soon that sexy waitress strolled back with our food and drinks. Lyra, of course, flirted up a storm and sent the waitress scurrying away, blushing madly. Always a charmer, that one.
The night passed calmly, full of good conversation and lots of storytelling amongst friends. The waitress happened by a few more times to check on us and see if we needed anything, perhaps a few more times than necessary. She always directed her attention to Ly, which gave me a warm feeling inside. I don’t believe I’ll be leaving my number here tonight, after all. Let Ly have her fun. There are plenty of girls out there for me to take a shot at.
The night was winding down around eleven, and as soon as the clock on the wall read 11:30, the pub manager came over to apologetically chase us out. But we were fine with that, because I was starting to become exhausted, and the girls were all fairly intoxicated by now. I led them out to my Liberty, and helped them one by one into the Jeep. Ly and Bon collapsed on top of each other in the backseat, and then struggled to find their seat belts. Ly had a goofy smile on her face the entire time; she had managed to get the waitress’ number before we left. Good for her. Symphony slid in after the other two, and clumsily fastened herself in. Octavia hopped into the front passenger seat rather nimbly for a woman who had just previously ingested at least four glasses of whisky. And I sat in the driver’s seat, and let myself relax for a few seconds, before tiredly fishing my keys out of my jacket pocket and putting them in the ignition. The rumbling of the engine coming to life comforted me, the familiar purr a natural sound to me by now. I began the long process of driving all the girls home. I drove about ten minutes to Imperial Avenue to drop Bon and Ly off at their shared apartment. I parked outside, and rode up the elevator with them to their door, like a true gentlewoman, then headed back down to drive the other two home. Symphony lived two blocks away in the Celestial Sunrise complex, and I repeated the process of walking her to her door. Finally, it was just Octavia and I. She directed me to her small townhouse, part of a newly built complex about ten blocks from my apartment building.
I hopped out of the Jeep, and ran around to the passenger side to open the door for her while she struggled to unbuckle her seat belt. Eventually she got it uncoupled, and she took the hand I offered to help her out. We walked to the front door, and began the arduous climb up four flights of stairs to reach the top floor of the building, which was entirely taken up by her portion of the townhouse. She fumbled in her purse for the keys, and then dropped them from clumsy fingers onto the ground. I knelt, and picked them up for her. She smiled warmly at me.
“Thank you. And thank you for the lovely evening. It was very nice of you to accept my offer to come out with us, and even more wonderful to drive us around everywhere. You’re a sweet person, Vinyl.” I blushed at her simple praise. It was really nothing. Suddenly, feeling rather bold and rash, I scooped up her hand and placed a featherlight kiss upon it. It was her turn to blush, and I quickly dropped her hand.
“It was nothing, Octavia. My pleasure. I can do it again, anytime. Just ask.” Octavia smiled at me, and nodded her head. Seemingly seized with a sudden inspiration, just as I was, she dashed forward and brushed her soft, tender lips across the line of my cheekbone in a barely-there kiss. She darted back into her doorway, and flushed crimson while staring back at me.
“I’ll be sure to ask. You’re incredibly good company. Goodnight, Vinyl. See you tomorrow?”
“Of course, Octavia. I’ll always be there. Where would you be without your faithful equipment tech?” She giggled lightly, and shook her head.
“Ruined, I suppose. Well, see you in the morning, then.”
“Absolutely. Goodnight, Octavia. Sweet dreams.” I waited in a mildly awkward silence for Octavia to shut the door, and then I sprinted madly down the stairs to my car. Not until I was inside did I allow myself to let out a cheer, as I knew it would be muffled by the soundproofing I had installed in the interior. She just…. She kissed me? What was that? A friendly peck, that’s all. It was still nice, beyond wonderful. But just friendly, nothing more. I sighed, and started the Liberty up again, driving slowly in silence for the next ten blocks until I reached home.
"...Hello? Who'sit," I mumbled sleepily into the microphone of my now-not-buzzing phone. Such a pity to wake up to such a horrendous noise. Like a giant paper wasp flitting around my ears. Hm, that was rather poetic.
"This is Octavia...I was wondering... I figured you might have some experience with this... How do you get rid of a monster hangover?" Oh, of course it was Octavia. All the staff have each other's phone numbers, in case we turn up missing. I was cut off mid-yawn when I heard her name, though, choking on my own air supply. This dissolved into a fit of giggles at her predicament. Of course she had a massive hangover, she downed nearly a pint and a half of whisky last night. That's not good for anyone.
“If you have a hangover, why the hell are you up right now? Go back to bed and sleep it off. It’s what I do.”
“Look, I don’t appreciate your ill-advised humor… And for you information, I am up this early because I have to be. I set an alarm so that I could be sure to be ready in time for my meeting this afternoon… Could you stop laughing at me now? You’re making my headache worse, damnit…” Oops. May have pushed a bit too far. And now the fair maiden is cranky. Damsel in distress, and she’s bitching about it the whole way, huh. Yeesh.
"I'm sorry, I know, I laughed at something that isn't particularly funny to you right now. But this is karma, paying you back for drinking so much last night. Do you have any idea how much whisky you were drowning in? Quite a lot. I guess Miss Prim-and-Proper can't hold her alcohol so well, huh?" I had a little sympathy in my heart for her, mostly because I was so infatuated with her. I hate seeing beautiful people suffer. But at the same time, it was still funny.
"...I really didn't keep track of how much I drank, I just paid the bill at the end without thinking. Oh dear... Anyway, you wouldn't possibly know of any way to kill a hangover any faster, would you? Please, I'm dying..." Ouch, a little overdramatic there. Oh well. While it may be funny, I have too big of a soft spot for this dame to let her suffer any longer.
"Well, basically, alcohol is causing you to be dehydrated, which is probably why the room is spinning right now, I presume. And it causes your blood vessels to dilate, which is why you have a monster of a headache. Best thing to help dehydration is to find a sports drink or two, or, in absence of that, drink copious amounts of water. Also, lots of ibuprofen. Best painkiller ever invented. Lay down for a few hours and do this stuff, and you should be alright by..." I quickly check the clock, which read 9:07, "You should be fine by three o'clock or so. Usually, I make some of my famous chicken noodle soup, and some warm green tea, but I can't just waltz into your house and start cooking, so you're on your own." I couldn't just do that, could I? Nah. We're really not close enough yet for that to be appropriate. Even if Octavia is probably totally in her sleepwear, sexy as all hell... Nope. Not going there.
"...Sports drink, ibuprofen. Got it... Wait a minute. You should absolutely come make some of your soup and tea... I have a meeting at four, and if that'll help... Please? Pretty please? With a cherry on top? I know we're not the closest of pals yet, but I could really use a favor right now..." And there went any resistance and will I had. How could I say no to such a beautiful, dulcet voice? That charming, slight lilt in her accent that implied she was from somewhere in upper Canterlot. It gets me every damn time... Sigh.
"Are you sure? I mean, we're not really close friends at all. How do you know that I won't just come into your house and decide to murder you or something?" I was trying to rationalize my way out of this situation any way that I could, though the thoughts of a sleepy, sexy Octavia in sweatpants that were slowly creeping into my mind weren't helping at all. I needed to come up with a way to not have to go over there, and quickly.
"Well, Lyra, Bonnie, and Symph all trust you, so why shouldn't I? And you didn't take advantage of me last night. You were a perfect gentlewoman. Even when... Even when I may have overstepped my bounds... Is that why you sound so nervous? Oh, I'm so sorry. It's just, I'm very used to being affectionate with my close friends, and it just... happened. I'm terribly sorry. I promise, I won't ever do it again if it makes you feel uncomfortable. That tea and soup just sound so delightful right now... And I would be forever indebted to you if you could find it in you to bring some to me..." Wow. She apologized for that little kiss. Not that she needed to, but... wow. She must either really care about our new friendship, or she just is really desperate for something to fix her hangover. I'm going with the latter. I guess I could be a kind person and make the poor girl some soup. It wouldn't kill me.
"I suppose I could. You do sound quite pitiful, you know. And what kind of a friend would I be if I didn't help you in your time of need? A really sucky friend, that's what. Just, give me a little bit to get dressed and gather my ingredients. Then I'll be right over. The soup is much better fresh, so I'm commandeering your kitchen." Hey, if she's got the nerve to wake me up and beg for a favor this early in the morning, I've got the right to find an excuse to spend extra time in her company. Yay for ulterior motives!
"I really don't know if you'll be able to... It's a bit of a mess."
"Nonsense, I'll even clean it. Though, that'll cost you extra. And I don't work for cash." I winked at the white ceiling of my room, a gesture completely lost on the woman two blocks away on the other side of the call.
"Hmm... I don't know about that. Well, I suppose it's a good thing I don't pay in cash, isn't it? You'll have to take a rain check, though, my headache is a bit too bad for any... physical activity." Okay, woah. Woah. No. She did not just. I'm sorry, my brain is a little busy short-circuiting.
"Uh, uh, y-yeah... Uh huh. I'll, uh, I'm just gonna go now... I'll be there soon, yeah?" Good job Vinyl, old bean. Way to sound intelligent. I'm sure she thinks you're real charming and gentlewomanly now.
"You do that. I'll be waiting, m'lady." I caught the hint of mirth in her voice before the line crackled, and the call was over. What just happened?
I laid in bed for a few minutes longer, pondering my new predicament and rubbing my palms repeatedly over my face in an attempt to rally my thoughts. Then, I groaned and shook myself out of bed, and headed off to get dressed in something mildly respectable. I eventually settled on the faded jeans I wore last night, which didn't smell too badly of pub smoke and alcohol, and a forest green and navy blue plaid button-down, with the same checkered skate shoes I wore everywhere. I brushed my teeth and cleaned my face quickly, remembering to put deodorant on at the last minute, and instead of bothering to brush my fantastically unruly hair, I just crammed a gray beanie on top of it. As if that weren't always my solution to my hair.
I shuffled around the kitchen and grabbed a protein bar and a bottle of iced coffee from the fridge for breakfast, and quickly located my stash of green tea leaves and a box of pasta. I stuffed these into my backpack, along with various bottles of ground herbs and a box of chicken stock that I had laying around in my pantry, apparently for chicken stock emergency. I made a mental note to go and pick up fresh chicken at the market on the way to Octavia's house, as I was currently out. Sufficient supplies loaded into my backpack, I grabbed my keys and strolled out my door, whistling a half-remembered tune all the way down three flights of stairs. Luckily, the market was open by ten, so I drove straight there, picked up the chicken quickly, and was on my way to Octavia's townhouse apartment.
As I pulled into a parking space outside Octavia’s apartment building, I realized just how nervous I was. My hands were shaking as I slid them from the wheel to open the car door. I couldn’t believe that this was actually happening. It was all a little fast, a little too perfect. I had just begun to befriend Octavia, and suddenly, the next morning, she’s inviting me over to her place? Granted, it was to make the poor girl something to fix her misery, but that’s beside the point. Something interesting is afoot, I think.
I shrugged these thoughts off, as I strolled around to the back of the car to retrieve my backpack full of culinary supplies. I snagged the grocery bag that contained the chicken with the first two fingers on my right hand, and reached up to flip the hatch closed, locking the car once it thunked shut. Humming another vaguely jaunty tune, I made my way up the flights of stairs to Octavia’s front door. I steeled myself with a breath, and knocked lightly on the green wooden door. I sent up a silent prayer to whatever gods were listening that she would answer the door in clothes that I wouldn’t start hyperventilating at the sight of. That would be quite the way to give up the game.
Luckily, Octavia opened the door quickly, interrupting my line of thought. I immediately straightened up, and ran a casual hand through the shock of hair peeking out from under my beanie. She smiled rather brightly at me for such a sick individual, grinning weakly as she covered her eyes with a pale hand and propped herself against the doorframe with the other. I took a quick moment to admire her lithe figure, clad in a thin gray tee and… light blue boxers? Huh. I guess people can surprise you every once in a while. Would not have pegged her for the type.
“Hey, Vinyl, my eyes are up here, even if they are closed.” B-wha? Nope. Her eyes were just closed. And covered. There’s no way she could have possibly caught me looking her over. Could she?
“I-I… uh. Gah. Um, sorry. I was just… Admiring your fashion choices?” Octavia laughed heartily, a deep, velvety chuckle the likes of which I had never heard before. It was beautiful. Again, not what you would expect from a woman like her, but also, much better than any expectations. Damnit. I’m quite literally falling harder for her every second I spend in her presence. Coming here was a bad idea.
“Hey, it’s fine. I get that a lot. I realize I’m usually dressed more conservatively, but a nasty hangover calls for comfort over style. It’s fine. I hope you like what you see, though.” And then Octavia, dear, sweet Octavia, winked at me. Even suffering under a massive hangover, she still is just as gorgeous and seductive as ever. Gah. I think she’s just playing with me now…
“I...um. Is there a correct response to that statement?” There was that chocolatey laugh again. Dear sweet Luna, I’m doomed.
“The correct response would be, ‘Yes, I did. And now, I’m coming in to make some soup for you.’ And that is where I would introduce you to my humble abode.” With this, she stepped to one side of the doorway, and swept her arm up to welcome me inside. Oh dear. This is really happening. Oh dear Luna.
“Uh, yeah. Thank you… I’ve, uh, got the… stuff right here.” And that was such a graceful oration, I might have just won myself a Nobel Laureate. Good job, Vinyl, old bean. After that, there was nothing I could do but slip quietly into Octavia’s rather spacious apartment. I flashed her my “I’m totally nervous, but playing it cool” grin, and stood awkwardly in the short entrance hall until Octavia gestured for me to follow her into her modest kitchen. I then lightly deposited my backpack on the counter, and looked around for the “mess” I was supposed to clean up earlier. And… there was no mess. The kitchen was pretty much spotless. I don’t know what she meant.
“Hey, uh, Octavia? Where’s the mess I was supposed to be getting ‘paid’ to clean up?” She shuffled her feet almost self consciously. Okay…
“Well, I suppose there was a bit of a mess. But really, it was maybe a coffee mug and a pot. I just… I wanted you to come over and cook your soup, but I also wasn’t sure that I really did want you to come over, because… I don’t know.” She sank down into the armchair in the surprisingly roomy living space just outside of the kitchen, and rested her elbows on her knees, steepling her fingers over the bridge of her nose. “...Can… can you just make soup? Please? I… I really need to be better for that meeting…” I took slight affront at the change in her tone; it seemed almost as if she no longer wanted me there. But, a promise is a promise, and the Staccato family never breaks a promise. Our word is our bond.
I busied myself with finding a pot to make a small batch of soup in, and was very happy to find a kettle to heat water for tea. After the soup was simmering quietly on the stove, I poured water out of the now-whistling kettle into two white ceramic mugs, and set the tea to steep for a few minutes. Leaning tiredly against the gray marble countertop, I traced the pattern with my eyes while I waited patiently for the tea to be ready. The other occupant of the room was still almost silent, save the occasional grunt or soft moan of pain. My heart was tugged rather painfully with each small noise, but I couldn’t just excuse Octavia’s rather brusque manner earlier. I realize she’s in pain, but it almost felt like something else was causing the change… She went from jovial temptress, to quiet and irritable hermit in less time than it takes thunder to follow lightning. Beautiful, but dangerous.
Sighing internally, I grasped a mug firmly in each hand, and walked softly into the living area, so as not to disturb Octavia any further. I set one mug onto a coaster I found on the little coffee table, and took the other directly to Octavia. Pulling away the pillow she had smashed to her face, I helped her sit up, and gently pressed the warm mug of tea into her hands, almost apologetically. She smiled lightly at me, and took a small sip of her beverage. I could see that the tension in her shoulders and neck almost immediately relaxed, probably from the soothing effect of hot tea. Octavia continued sipping lightly at her tea as I took a seat opposite her, on the small gray sofa. I cautiously picked up my own mug from the table, and settled into the couch. I studied Octavia for several minutes before finally sighing, and drinking a little bit of tea.
“So, how is it? I’m sorry I don’t have any sugar, but I figured that green tea is best left with it’s own natural flavor. And sugar might mess with your head right now, anyway.” I posed the question, and sat in silence, waiting for an answer, as Octavia went back to rubbing at her presumably aching temples.
“It’s… good. Very good. Thank you… I apologize for the way I acted earlier. Snapping at you was a bad decision… I just… Nothing, it was all my fault. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that, no matter the reasoning. I took my own frustration out on you, and that was wrong. I’m terribly sorry.” I frowned slightly. She shouldn’t be so hard on herself. Granted, snapping at the person who is doing you a major favor is kind of a bad thing to do, but I understand that she’s not feeling too well, and she’s probably under a lot of stress I don’t know about. I don’t think she was terribly rude, either.
“Octavia, look, it’s okay. You’re fine. I’m not upset. I’m totally used to people getting frustrated with me, and I know how to handle it. I know you’re feeling a little fragile right now, and I’m sorry if I upset-”
“No, you didn’t upset me. I mean, in a way, you’ve upset… something. But I’m not mad at you, or even mildly irritated. You’re doing me a huge favor, and I’m just already so grateful, and you’re such a wonderful individual, and I’m so glad that we’re friends. Thank you, Vi-” It was my turn to interrupt.
“We’re friends? What?” I stared incredulously back at the slim beauty seated opposite me. Octavia looked startled at the sudden exclamation, and I hurriedly brought my voice back down to a whisper for my next statement. “Sorry, I forgot for half a second that you’ve got a hangover. It’s just, wow. Why do you think we’re friends? You hardly ever talk to me outside of rehearsal and performances.”
“I guess… that’s probably not how a real friend would behave. I never had many friends growing up, though, so I don’t really have a reference guide on how to build friendships. I suppose I believed that we had talked enough, and shared enough witty banter in the wings, that we were sort of automatically friends. I was wrong, apparently.” She hung her head a little lower, and laughed bitterly. I had never wanted more in my whole life to hug her and hold her close than I did right then. So I did.
I stood up and rounded the coffee table in one step, and in the next second, I pulled Octavia up by one arm, and deposited her tea mug onto another handy coaster. Then I swept her thin frame into a bone-crushing hug, and held her close, purely out of impulse. I had no idea what I was doing, my heart was racing faster than anything I’d ever felt before, and I sincerely hoped Octavia couldn’t feel it. I fit my chin over her shoulder; this prompted her to bury her head in my neck, and we stayed like that for several moments, her arms clutching me tightly, and my arms encircling her slight body like a life preserver. Then, I felt her hands begin to loosen their grip, and I realized it was time to end the hug. Regretfully, I slid my arms back down to my sides, and locked gazes with Octavia for the first time this morning. Fiery carmine met frozen amethyst, and I almost wished that I could share that inner flame with Octavia, the one that made my heart beat a million times a minute when she was around. I sighed gently, and smiled at her.
“Octavia, if you want, we can be friends. I was just surprised by the fact that you considered me a friend, is all. We don’t talk a whole lot, but that’s not an issue. If you want to be friends, then we can talk any time you want. Trust me, anyone who can get along with that bunch from last night is a friend in my book. We’re okay, okay?” Octavia nodded gratefully, and sank back into her comfortable chair, already reaching for the cup of tea I had picked back up.
“Thank you, it really means a lot to me. I really… Nevermind. that’s silly.” Octavia sighed, and I sat back down on the sofa, incredibly confused. But, shrugging it off with my trademark indifference, I grabbed my own mug of tea, and Octavia and I shared a contemplative silence for a few minutes. Eventually, I broke the silence.
“Feeling any better yet? I know hangovers can be nasty, but something about warm antioxidants really seem to clear it up faster. Or at least, it does for me.” Octavia nodded slightly, and continued sipping her tea. Five feet away, in the kitchen, I heard the timer go off, indicating that the soup was done. I placed my mug down on the coffee table, and hopped up to go turn off the stove burner and look for a bowl. Locating one in an upper cabinet, I spooned out a healthy dose of hot soup, and carried it back into the living area, to Octavia. Gingerly placing the bowl in her hands and trading for the mug of tea, which I placed on the coffee table, I then grabbed my own mug and downed the remaining contents.
I strolled into the kitchen and quickly washed up everything I had used, except for the pot of the soup still remaining. I gathered all of my leftover ingredients, aside from the chicken, and tossed them into my backpack. Octavia stared questioningly at me as I prepared to leave, and I gave her a little wave as I made for the front door. I heard her call out from the other room right as I set foot in the hallway.
“Why are you leaving so soon? Please stay, keep me company…” She sounded pitiful, but I really should have been going.
“Look, I told you I would come over and make soup. I made the soup, which you are currently ingesting, so it’s probably time for me to leave.” Some of the nervousness from earlier was slowly finding its way back to me, and I did not like it.
“Aw, please, can you not stay just a bit longer? I could really use someone to talk to.” She could plead all she wanted, but I would not break.
“No, you have stuff you should be doing. And I would like to go back home and crash again. I was up way too early this morning for how late I was out last night. Goodbye, Octavia. See you around.” With that, I opened the door and stepped out onto the landing, just as I heard shuffling behind me. I turned to spot Octavia making her way toward the front door.
“Well, if you must leave, let me at least show you out. I ought to try to be a gracious hostess, hangover or not. Which is really feeling a good bit better now. Thank you. You’re a saint.” Octavia leaned over and softly pressed her lips to my cheek, a light peck, and nothing more. I leaned backward, on the verge of breaking into a full blush. Which might have been a tad suspicious. I raised one eyebrow at the raven-haired beauty, and she winked back, as I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks.
“W-what was that for?” I could feel the blood in my face now, and I was pretty sure I looked like a ripe tomato.
“Well, you said you don’t work for cash, but I’m a little too under the weather to give you the proper thanks you deserve for doing me such a wonderful favor. Maybe you should stop by sometime when I’m feeling better, and we can see how grateful I am to my savior.” Octavia winked like the she-devil she is, and I could feel the blush spreading into my neck. Any further teasing, and I might just spontaneously combust. I managed to cough out a response.
“You’re just… kidding, right? You’re not actually serious?” Octavia winked at me again, quickly caressed the side of my face with her silky smooth palm.
“Maybe I’m playing, maybe I’m not. You’ll just have to come and find out sometime, won’t you?” Woah. Okay. No-kay. Let’s not do this.
“Uh… uh huh. Um… I’m just… I’m gonna go now?” I cursed myself mentally for the tiny crack in my voice at the end of that statement. What was I, some preteen boy getting his first kiss? Ugh.
“See you around, Vinyl. I really hope we can do this again sometime, hopefully without a massive hangover on my part. Drive home safely, please.” I nodded, and then hurried down the stairs, almost tripping over my own feet several times in my haste to make it to the bottom of those flights of steps.
Finally, I reached my car, and after fumbling around in my backpack for my keys, I managed to get the door unlocked and hopped inside. Breathing a sigh of relief now that I was alone, and away from Octavia, a temptress for the ages. The things she made me want, that I should not want… I quickly started the engine, and turned on the AC, in the hopes that it would cool my suddenly heated body. I drove home in complete, awkward silence. Until now, I had never even known that it was possible to have an awkward silence with only one person. I guess there’s a first time for everything.
I sat alone on the desolate, dusty emptiness of the catwalk. The rafters made excellent company for a troubled mind. I kicked my feet aimlessly in the air, as they dangled from my perch into the open space of the fifty foot drop to the stage below. Leaning back on my hands, I heaved a massive sigh. Why do I let Octavia get to me like this?
I suppose, it’s because it’s so difficult not to. Especially when she suddenly started flirting with me, but then decided to be all bipolar about it. What was up with that? One minute, she was coming on quite strong, and then the next, she just seemed like she wanted to be fifty leagues away from me.
Was it something I did? Something I said? I realize she’s been sending majorly mixed-up signals, but maybe I’ve been doing the same. I've never been particularly skilled when it comes to courtship, and really, it's not like I've ever tried to get better at it. I laughed bitterly and hung my head low, shaking it sadly back and forth. As if I've ever had the opportunity to get better. There weren't a whole lot of people I ever let myself get close to, especially not back in school. I had Ly, and that was about it.
Not that I don't immensely appreciate that mint-haired goober, but it would have been nice to be a little more liked. Everyone secretly wants to be accepted. Everybody wants love. Some of us just aren't very good at finding it. Of course, it doesn't help that I'm not into guys. That little fine print clause severely limits my dating pool. And it caused quite a stir when I was unwillingly booted out of the closet by one particular bitch that I made the mistake of trusting.
Dear sweet Luna, Shimmer was a bitch. Captain of the cheer squad, straight A's and B's, personal protégé of Celestia, flawlessly gorgeous kind of girl. The Equestrian Dream, if there ever was one. And of course, she deigned to be my friend. I felt so honored and lucky. Used to being an outcast, I was then becoming part of the intense social circles of the upper class high school scene.
It was strange being popular, well-liked, and admired, and it was all because of Sunset Shimmer. Of course, it was all purely superficial, because anyone the Queen Bee deems worthy of being her close friend obviously is somehow better than everyone, and quickly earns an unhealthy amount of equal parts admiration, envy, and ire. And I was oblivious to all of this. I just thought I was lucky, and Shimmer was wonderful. A little too wonderful, actually.
Celestia, I fell hard. Sophomore year, and I discovered that I was attracted to girls. It was new, and strange. I had "relationships" with guys before, in middle school. But it never felt like anything more than a rather intense friendship. I just naturally assumed that everyone felt this way about their significant other. And then, one night, at a party hosted by a friend of an acquaintance of Shimmer's that she deemed necessary to go to, I started to piece things together, in my clumsy and sluggish fashion.
Shimmer dragged me home with her, after school, saying that she needed my help finding the perfect outfit. Naturally, as her only artistic friend, I had a better idea of color scheme than most, and a secret passion for fashion. So I did what any loyal friend would do, and we whiled away the hours until the party with several different outfit choices and a healthy dose of gossip. I loved every minute of it. But the problem with this night all happened much later.
We arrived at the party, a necessary fifteen minutes fashionably late, and got into the swing of things. I don't remember much of that night, because it doesn't matter. The big event of that night occurred when, predictably cliché and totally expected, someone had the bright idea to play spin the bottle. We had a fantastic time with that, a bunch of barely-adolescents crowded in a small, mildly sweaty circle around a mesmerizingly rotating bottle. There was a relatively equal number of both genders present, and most of the time, the bottle landed on someone of the opposite sex. Occasionally, someone had the misfortune of spinning a same-sex kiss, but the discomfort meant nothing to the rules of the game, and the excited, barbaric chanting of our peers soon had our blood boiling enough that we wouldn't back down from the challenge. It was exciting, and tense, a roulette of lips. And naturally, it all had to come crashing down.
It was Shimmer's turn, and sitting right next to me in a show of solidarity to our peers like we usually did, we were the picture perfect pair of best friends. She giggled lightly, the adrenaline rush of the game finally getting to her. She reached forward and flicked the bottle around. Every teen in the group watched the spinning glass hungrily, animalistic joy painted on our faces. And eventually, as inertia reasserted itself over the silicate bottle, it came to rest. And it was pointed directly at me. I stared at the soda bottle, wide-eyed. It's funny how something so insignificant and ordinarily powerless could ruin my life. Or at least, my reputation, which is basically the same thing in high school, anyway. Shimmer inhaled sharply, and I still felt numb. This was cruel. Eventually, she tapped me on the shoulder lightly.
"We... We don't have to, you know. It's just a dumb game." The waiting crowd held its breath. She was the Queen Bee, and her word was law. If we decided not to go through with this, they wouldn't disagree, and we would move on to some other game. I thought for a minute, and then my stupid sense of pride decided to rear its ugly head.
"Why? You chicken? It's just a dumb game, so why does it matter? Rules are rules for a reason. It's not like anyone else backed out. Shining and Mac went with it, earlier. You saying you're not as good as some boys?" Shimmer stared at me, shocked. In the whole time we had been friends, I had never once gone against one of her commands-worded-as-suggestions. She couldn't believe it, and I knew it. A collective gasp went through the group, and then they started chanting.
"Chicken. Chicken. Chicken. Chicken. Chicken! Chicken! Chicken! Chicken! Chicken! Chicken!" Someone started imitating the fowl in question, in the background, and as their lusty cries reached a fever pitch, Shimmer tackled me to the ground. Fantastic. I was caught, like a bear in a trap, and now the huntress was coming to get me. She pushed on my shoulders forcefully, as if to say, 'You think you can get away with being an ass?' I merely grinned lazily in response, and the shouting continued around us. The hounds were baying for fresh blood.
I sat back up, cross-legged, and grinned wolfishly at Shimmer. I had provoked the beast. She stared intently at me, and then crawled onto her knees and made her way over to me. I found my lips pressing into a thin, nervous line, as if they were scared of contact with this predatory female. Suddenly, Shimmer had reached her goal. Still on hands and knees, she gave me a reassuring smile, and then gently pressed her lips to mine. It felt strange. And that feeling only persisted as she began pressing more insistently against my mouth, practically crushing my nose into her cheek. The crowd around us jeered as I finally began kissing back, knocked out of my initial daze. This was a new feeling, almost entirely different from kissing boys. It was... good. Shimmer slowly walked her hands forward and began pressing me backwards until I had to put my hands to the floor behind me for support. I wasn't sure where this was heading, but I was starting to enjoy it. Shimmer began to crawl onto me and straddle my waist in some sort of hormone-fueled desperation, and then, thankfully, someone coughed. Incredibly loudly.
I freaked, and pushed Shimmer off of me, standing up fast enough to send even more of the blood in my veins rushing toward my lower body to add to what was already there, even as it tried to fight its way back up to form a blush. The people seated around us wore various looks along the spectrum of awe to disgust, and some looked absolutely embarrassed. I felt my face turn bright red, and I quickly stumbled over to where my jacket lay, and snatched it up as I hurried out the door. I fumbled around in my pockets for my phone, and called my mother to come pick me up. She showed up fifteen minutes later, as I was still pacing around outside and scuffing the grass under my feet. Thankfully, Shimmer had stayed inside. My mother knew that I was distressed over something, but she didn't push it. And I didn't talk to Shimmer again for the next two weeks. That was when she invited me over to her house to talk. Sparing the sordid details, we ended up in a sort-of-happy, five month relationship. And then, she absolutely betrayed me.
It was the last week of school, and I was looking forward to summer. I had plans to take Shimmer out on a few nice dates, and even invite her to the beach with my family. And then I actually walked into the building, and everything changed. Students snickered when they saw me, and some glared, while others gave looks of the utmost sympathy. I didn't get it. Well, until I saw what was splattered all over the walls. Someone had printed out hundreds of pictures of me, plastered them all over the school, and written in bright red marker in the neat and pretty handwriting I recognized immediately, things like "Vinyl is the Fag Queen," "Superdyke," "Lady Lover," and "Lock Up Your Daughters." I was stunned. Even as I realized who had written those awful things, my heart denied it. I stood stock-still in the middle of the main entrance concourse, hands hanging limp by my sides, and feet spread in an automatic, defensive, shoulder-width stance. Eventually, one of the guidance counselors alerted the administrators, and then took me to her office. I was still numb. There was no way that Shimmer had done that. She cared about me, right?
The counselor that brought me in called in my counselor, and shut the door gently behind them. I was sprawled in a chair in front of the desk, my feet and legs still spread out like I was trying to keep myself grounded, and my elbows rested on my knees while I held my face in my hands. All I could focus on was the worn, faded denim skinny jeans covering my legs, and the small sliver of twenty-year-old utilitarian gray office carpeting. My counselor spoke my name in a soft, kind, motherly tone, with a kind of questioning lilt at the end. I faded back into reality, rubbing my face vigorously with my hands, and eventually looking up to meet her kind, brown eyes. All that the two middle-aged women did was try to comfort me, knowing that this kind of thing had driven kids to suicide before. I never contemplated that, but it wasn't like they could see inside my head. Eventually, a few hours into the day, after they had talked to me and brought me out of my mostly catatonic state, and I finished the cup of coffee I had requested, they let me go on to class, but not until they had gotten the admission out of me that Shimmer had likely done this, and once they were sure that the janitors had torn down all the hateful posters. But the damage was done. After that, Shimmer admitted that she only dated me because she wanted to watch someone so good and kind break. I nearly strangled her after that. The rest of the school started bullying me, and no matter how hard the staff tried to stop it, the behavior persisted. Ly was the only person who stuck by me, even as I was officially considered a disgrace by the rest of high school society. And mostly, it was because she was attracted to women, too, even though she never came out, and she felt like she couldn't just let me suffer all on my own, when she easily could have been in my place.
So, lesson learned, I was wary of dating anyone. Even in college, where everything was a bit more progressive because it was a technical institute in Mane. Finally, I made my way down to New Yorkshire, and Ly tagged along because she hadn't left my side since sophomore year. And we both found a job with the Black Rose theater company, on Broadneigh. It was an amazing stroke of luck. They needed a harpist, and I had been the only qualified professional who applied for the open audio tech position. And then we met Bon on our first day, and the rest is history.
But now that Octavia is acting so strangely, I'm starting to possibly rethink my decision to keep to the shadows and not go after the girl I want. I've had my share of troubles with dating, and mostly I just go after one night stands, though I'm a tad ashamed to admit it. I just never really connect with anyone like I want to. But something about Octavia just brings back all those memories from the first serious relationship I ever had, no matter how bitterly it ended. I remember the joy of it all. And Octavia makes me want that sort of butterflies-in-the-stomach commitment again. I would be content with a woman like her for eons, really. What's not to like? She's absolutely ravishing, for one. Long, dark, silky hair that hangs down just perfectly to the small of her back, vibrant amaranthine eyes that pierce beautifully right into the heart of me, a heart-shaped face dusted with just the right amount of freckles, and goodness, if she didn't just have a pair of hips and a backside that anyone would kill for. Oftentimes, I couldn't tell if I was lusting after them, or intensely jealous of them. She struck an imposing figure, and branded herself on my mind the first second I met her.
Her appearance wasn't even the best part of her. We weren't anything like close friends, yet, but from what I had heard from our mutual friends, and what I had observed myself, Octavia was a genuinely kind individual. She was highly intelligent, creative, and passionate. Especially for the arts. She was quite literally the definition of my type.
The clang and click of an industrial stage door jarred me out of my thoughts. Who would be here at this hour, on a day we didn't have practice? It was well after ten p.m., and I was only here because my apartment hadn't been a suitable place to dispel my thoughts about Octavia after this morning, and I made my way here after several long hours.
I heard footsteps treading lightly onto the stage, and a familiar silhouette arrived at the edge of the stage, arms crossed tightly and feet spread shoulder-width apart in an irritated stance. The harsh glow of the fluorescent work lights I had turned on earlier cast sharp shadows on her body, turning her into a living work of art made of contrasts between shadows and light. I couldn't help but admire the sight. She was a striking individual.
Octavia began to pace, in apparent aggravation, before eventually throwing her arms up and aggressively ruffling her own hair. What's going on with her? She huffed loudly, and continued to stalk across the stage. Almost as if she had heard my silent question, she began to muse aloud.
"Luna-damned directors! Why would they put this on me now, of all times? Just when I was starting to grow attached, they're trying to drag me away. Dammit! Why? Maybe I don't want to go! Maybe I'll tell them that. Might damage my career a bit, but some things are more important than a career. I'm doing just fine here, with who and what I love. Celestia, they're so arrogant and full of themselves. Sometimes I just want to... Raaah!" With that, she punched the stage wall, and then cried out in pain. I couldn't take it any longer, she was too distressed. She began cursing out loud, and then she punched the wall again.
"Shit! Shitshitshitshitshitshit... dammit! Damn wall!" My eyes widened at the display, and then I watched as Octavia cradled her hand to her chest and crumpled to the ground. I hurriedly slid back from the railing, stood up, and began walking quickly across the catwalk. I reached the ladder, and without my usual moment of hesitation and slight fear, I immediately began clambering down as fast I could. Chances are, the idiot just hurt herself pretty badly.
As I skipped the last five rungs and let myself fall to the stage, I felt my knees buckle for a second under the force of gravity, and then I forced myself back up. My noisy climbing had alerted Octavia that someone else was in the building, and she had looked up from the stage to stare at me pitifully. Now was not the time for explanations as to why either of us was there, and I strode over quickly and dropped to my knees beside her. I nearly barked commands at her, my required first aid training taking over.
"Hand, now. Let me see." She whimpered, and shook her head.
"N-no. It hurts, but I'll be fine. P-promise." The already-bruising knuckles spoke to the contrary. Could be a fracture, at the very least, a bad sprain and bruises.
"No. Give me your hand. Don't be any more stupid than you already were." She glared at me silently. "Come on, dammit, I've been trained in first aid, and mom is a nurse. I know what I'm doing. You can trust me. Please." I spoke the last bit in a softer tone, hoping she would respond better to that. And she did, eventually.
She gingerly extracted her injured hand from where it was wrapped tightly up in her hunched-over form. I delicately placed her thin hand into my own, and began examining it to find the extent of the injury. I gently traced my fingers over her knuckles, enveloping them in the soft white glow of my magic, and as I reached the second, she hissed in pain. Okay, so that finger was injured. I continued my inspection of the last two knuckles, and when she didn't respond to anymore prodding, I returned my attention to her second knuckle. I softly tapped the knuckle again, to be sure that it wasn't just her response to the scrapes all over her hand. I barely touched my finger to the bone connected to the knuckle before she groaned. So, probably broken. I turned over her whole arm, careful not to twist her wrist, and inspected her palm. She grimaced as I straightened out her arm, and began examining both sides of her wrist. I only found bruising on her hand, so if there's a fracture, it's confined to to the metacarpals, and not the carpals. Good. That's a less complex injury.
I let Octavia retract her arm and place it cradled against her middle again. I didn't necessarily see any breaks, but as I'm not anyone in a medical career, my magic wasn't fine-tuned enough to detect anything more than obvious injuries. I looked her in the eye, and shook my head angrily.
"What in Tartarus were you thinking, Octy? Why would you go and punch a wall? That is the least constructive outlet for anger that I've ever heard of." She glanced down, ashamed. I felt a little guilty, for adding insult to injury, in a literal sense. But she needed to hear it.
"Look, I just... I got angry, okay? I've always had kind of a short temper, and it just got the best of me. Back off, okay?" She glared angrily at me, but it still felt like the aggression of a wounded animal. I need to get her to the ER, but I would like to get the reasoning behind her idiocy, if I can.
"Okay, fine, if you back off on hitting solid concrete. You've likely fractured your hand, Octy. Come on. What's gotten you that upset in the first place?" She grimaced, and looked away from me. I could be patient ordinarily, but we don't have time with an injury like that. "Fine. Don't tell me. But we need to get you to the ER. Did you drive here? I need to know if I need to call someone to come get your car. Ly is just a couple blocks from here."
"Look, I'm not asking for your help. I'll be fine. Just leave me alone." That was rather offensive. Who would refuse help when they need medical attention?
"Look, dammit. I don't care that you don't want my help, and I don't care about whatever's gotten your panties in a twist. But you need help, whether you like it or not, because you broke your damn hand. Now, you're either coming willingly, or so help me Luna, I will pick you up and carry you out to my car and lock you inside so I can take you to the hospital. And here I thought you were always so sensible." Octavia glared up at me, and I met her gaze with equal fire, strong, solid carmine pushing back at icy, cutting amethyst. Finally, in a staring contest for the ages, her gaze softened, and she nodded. I knelt down and wrapped my arms under her chest, lifting her to her feet as I stood.
"I'm glad you finally saw sense. I've never seen someone with as destructive of a temper as you." A small, white lie. "Are you some new breed of stupid? You're usually so calm. What's up?" Octavia whipped around with rage in her eyes as I accidentally insulted her. Dammit, I need to stop just saying whatever I'm thinking.
"No, I'm not just 'some new breed of stupid.' I have a valid reason for being upset, and my temper just got the best of me. You have no reason to mock me. I'm sure that you're not as perfect as you seem, Miss Staccato." Her viper tongue threw words at me with deadly accuracy. "Here you are, offering 'help', but all you're doing is making things worse! Why can't you just leave me alone? I can't believe I ever thought you cared, even for a second. You're just the type to go and act sweet, and turn around and hurt someone when they're down. What's wrong with you?" Octavia stepped forward and poked me firmly in the chest with her uninjured hand. Alright, I couldn't take it anymore.
"I don't even know what in Tartarus you're talking about! All I've offered is help, and all you've done is been a bitch! You've just broken your Luna-damned hand, being an idiot, and apparently it was all over something you won't even tell me about! What's wrong with me? How about what's wrong with you?" I stepped closer and glared into her eyes in the inches separating us. I was so done with this girl. All I ever did was help her and dote on her, and this is the thanks I get? Fuck that.
"You really want to know what's wrong with me? This is what's wrong with me!" She stepped closer, until we were separated by centimeters, and raised her uninjured hand. Expecting a physical blow, I began to step back, but instead, I felt a hand pulling my head forward, until a pair of lips collided with my own. Wait. Hang on. No. No, this is not seriously happening.
But it was. Even as my brain struggled to process the soft, obviously feminine pair of lips against my own, it was becoming reality. Every night that I had lain awake, torturing myself with thoughts I didn't want, but did want. Every time I had felt a swelling of pride after a wonderful performance by Octavia. Every time that I waited just a heartbeat too long after trying to tell her, and changed my mind entirely, saving myself infinitesimal heartache. All of it was crashing in on me as I felt Octavia disengage and step back. I slowly opened my eyes, and blinked, lips still slightly parted. What was going on?
"...You... Octy? What? No. Nononononononono. Wait. Hang on. Why would you..." I trailed off, as I realized that my discombobulated thoughts were creating more anxiety as I voiced them. And then Octavia turned to walk away, and I knew I had to stop her.
"Octy! Wait! It's not what you think! Hey, come back, dammit!" I jogged toward the exit and managed to slide in front of her, just as she reached the door.
"Hey. Look, I'm not upset. Please..." She had her head turned down, and wouldn't look at me. I stepped closer, and put my hand on her shoulder. "Hey. Octy."
"What? What do you want? Look, it was a mistake, I'm sorry. I just, I couldn't take it anymore, not knowing. I took a chance, and I'm sorry. I'm sure you probably don't even want to be friends with me anymore, and that's fine. I just had to try. It hurt too much not to." I laughed. If only she knew.
"Well, the only thing around here that should hurt too much is your hand. Look, it's fine. We'll talk this over later, but right now, we need to get you to the hospital, okay? You're fine. I'm not mad. And I think that we both need some time to think this over, so why don't we take the ride to the ER as the perfect opportunity?" It was partially a lie. I didn't need time to think it over, I needed time to process that fantasy had finally become reality. But I figured that she might want time to reconsider. People do crazy things in the heat of the moment, and I wanted her to be sure. It was a dangerous gamble I was taking, as she might assume I meant for it to be time for her to realize that she had made a mistake, but it was a chance I had to take, because until she was taken care of, I wasn't going to be able to focus on any serious conversation.
"I suppose so. Shall we go? The pain is starting to seep back in, and I'm starting to realize you were right." She grinned sheepishly at me, and I nodded, and helped her out the door, shutting off the lights and locking up the entrance before I headed to the parking lot.
She was already waiting at the passenger door of my Jeep, and I unlocked the car and helped her in. She blushed and mumbled her thanks, and I shut the door and trotted around to the driver's side. I hopped in and started the car in a practiced motion. I looked over at Octavia in the dim light cast from the street lights on the main drag, and grinned.
"Okay, Octy, where to? Any specific hospital preference?"
"Not really. I'd just like to get my hand checked out, because I think you were right about a fracture." She grimaced a little, and I saw that she had her arm pressed tightly to her abdomen and covered by her other arm. I hated seeing her injured. So I put the car in drive and started off for the nearest hospital.
"Hey, Vinyl?"
"Yeah?"
"Why do you keep calling me Octy?"
"Because I nickname every one of my friends, eventually."
"Oh. Well, I like it."
"I like it, too, Octy." And with that, we both resumed our mutual silence, and I sped away to the ER.
By the time I was driving Octavia home from the hospital, it was well past midnight. I was exhausted, and I could really use a whole lot of sleep. I had been right in my initial diagnosis, and she had fractured two of the bones in her right hand. She was sporting a rather fetching black cast right now, and I couldn’t help but giggle every time I caught sight of it as I drove her home.
“Oh my goodness! What do you want? You’ve been laughing like a maniac every five seconds since we got in the car! What?” Octavia glared fiercely at me from the passenger seat. Her outburst unfortunately only caused me to snort and laugh harder.
“I’m sorry, it’s just… Your hand. It’s broken. You’re so stupid!” I began cackling, and Octavia aimed a swift jab to my upper right arm. Okay, so that one is not broken, and she can definitely still land a blow. I’m starting to feel sympathy for the wall. I softly massaged the sore area, and shot a quick glare at her before returning my eyes to the road.
“You’re not amusing, Madame Staccato. In fact, for provoking an injured and clearly angry woman, you must not have very much intelligence at all. I’m surely not the moron in this vehicle.” I rolled my eyes and smirked at her, and I sincerely hoped she could see it. She definitely saw it, because she huffed angrily and crossed her arms as she began gazing out the window.
“Hey, look, all I’m saying is, I wouldn’t have punched a wall if I was frustrated. Not over anything. That was not a smart move, Octy.” I heard the rustle of her clothing as she turned in her seat to face me. I could feel her eyes boring a hole into the side of my head, and my face flushed in response.
“You don’t seem to understand the amount of emotional and intellectual stress I have been under recently. Not only have I realize that I have developed and attraction to one of my co-workers, said co-worker happens to be female. And just as I am starting to reconcile that fact and potentially see where it might lead me, our director has seen fit to draw in talent scouts and discuss moving me to another production; a larger and more successful one. I apologize if my actions seemed a tad rash, but I have been incredibly frustrated for the last several hours as I have tried to sort out exactly what I wanted to do, because I have been torn between a desire to further my career, and to pursue your ungrateful, sarcastic, snide, downright rude, beautiful, intelligent, caring, passionate ass!” I kept my eyes firmly attached to the road as I tried to process what Octavia had just revealed, and gave her a chance to compose herself.
Oh, wow. Okay, so I’ve probably been an ass. I had no idea she was dealing with this much. She just never let on to any of this. Not that I’ve ever asked, but I doubt that she would open up to me, anyway. She tends to be pretty reclusive and private.
Also, she honestly had feelings for me? Well, shit. That complicated things a bit. I’d spent so long resigned to the fact that it would be an eternal chase that I wasn’t quite sure how to handle this revelation. I was incredibly flattered, but also terrified. So, as usual, I let my mouth do the talking.
“Octy, I’m sorry that I’ve been kind of inconsiderate. Honestly, I agree that all of that stuff is a lot to handle. I don’t blame you for being stressed, and I’m sorry that I haven’t been making this any easier on you… Also, you think all those wonderful things about my ass? Quite frankly, I’m flattered that you’ve paid so much attention to my butt.” Great, real smooth, Vinyl. Real sharp wit. A butt joke. But something about that must have been hilarious, because suddenly Octy was showering the inside of my Jeep with her infectious laughter, and soon enough, I joined in. A few minutes later, we had finally calmed, and were just quietly catching our breath.
“No, you idiot. That was not directed at your posterior. I meant all of those words about you, as a whole, but I was so irritated with you that I lost my usual eloquence for a brief period. I do accept your apology, though, and perhaps I shouldn’t have snapped at you like I did. That was rather rude.”
“Well, I’m still flattered. You have quite the way with words, Octy. That’s very sweet. But who says I return these feelings?”
“Oh, come off it, Vinyl. The way you responded to that kiss earlier was evidence enough. The whole staff knows you do. It’s hardly been a secret that you constantly moon after me and follow me like a little lovesick kitten. It’s honestly really cute, though. I always have adored you and the little things you do to make me feel special and cared for. It’s something I don’t receive very often. So I never minded your little affections. It just wasn’t until recently that I realized the depth and breadth of my own affection for you. I can’t say when it started, or even how, but somewhere along the line, I do believe I have developed quite a hefty set of feelings for you. You’re surely something special, and I apologize for how long it has taken me to realize it.”
I blushed scarlet when Octavia mentioned the kiss from earlier, and was downright puce by the time she revealed that everyone I knew was aware that I was drowning in the feels. But her surprisingly sentimental declaration of affection was something new. Octavia was never one to show real emotion. She always kept everything bottled up under her calm, collected, and poised demeanor. She was just raised that way, by her father.
“I.. I really don’t know what to say to that. At all.” Octavia leaned closer, brushing against the soft leather of my jacket and whispered softly into my ear.
“Then don’t say anything.” Without warning, she grasped my chin softly and brushed her lips against my own in a feathery kiss. I nearly crashed the car. Luckily, we were on a quiet side street, a few blocks from her apartment. I managed to jerk the wheel to the left and swerve up to the curb without causing any harm. Octavia knew exactly what she was doing, even though I felt my heart racing, because it was a very dangerous idea to remove any driver’s attention from the road.
Octavia smiled, and I heard a low chuckle emitted from her throat. She closed the distance for another kiss, and another, and another. Finally, I recovered my senses enough to start kissing back. It was like nothing I had ever experienced; her somewhat thin lips were soft, warm, inviting. I could smell her lilac shampoo, and that distinctly human smell that was unique to her. She ran her hands through my hair, tugging softly, and just trying to pull me as close to her as physically possible. I’d almost say she was trying to crush our atoms together as hard as she was pressing her lips to mine.
And then, the inevitable sound of cars honking and yelled curses in downtown Manhattan brought back the reality of our situation. We were idling on a street in a somewhat quiet little housing development, making out in the front seat of my car. I felt a laugh bubble up in my chest at the ridiculousness of our situation, and pulled away from Octavia. Immediately, she flew into a blind panic.
“Oh, I’m so sorry! Was that too presumptuous? I should’ve known better. I’m terribly sorry.” I laughed at her reaction, and just shook my head, smiling all the while.
“Chill, you’re fine. I’m just laughing because we’re literally just making out in my car where anyone could walk past and see us. Trust me, nothing is wrong with that, it’s cool and all. But maybe we should take this somewhere a little more private, before one of these lovely residents decides to call the cops on us.” She looked mortified at the thought, and I chuckled again, before softly stretching my hand out to caress her cheek. Smiling quietly at her, I began driving again, and soon enough, we were parked outside her apartment building.
“Well, Vinyl, you did suggest somewhere more private. Why don’t we head on up and continue our discussion from earlier?” I blinked slowly, still trying to process what exactly had just happened. We had just discussed our feelings, check. We kissed, definitely check. And now she was inviting me inside, check. Okay. I think I have this. I slowly uncoupled my seatbelt, turned off the car, and then I jogged around to the other side of the Jeep to open Octy’s door and let her out, before she could open the door herself. Gentlemanly, right?
Octavia stepped down gracefully, and accepted my offered hand. With a quick, nervous and happy glance at each other, we sprinted for the stairs, and climbed our way up to Octy’s apartment as fast as we could. I couldn’t ever explain the giddy feeling that bubbled up in my chest as we raced each other up the long flights, but it was a wonderful thing.
When we finally reached the top, Octy fumbled around awkwardly in her purse with her left hand, unused to using her non-dominant hand to grab things. Eventually, she located her keys, and after watching her grapple with the lock for a few minutes, I laughed and took the key from her to unlock the door myself. She gave me a grateful look, and then unceremoniously dragged me inside after her. As I turned to shut and lock the door, Octy stepped closer and pressed a gentle kiss to my cheek, and I flushed scarlet as we made our way to her couch. Settling in, with Octy snuggling into my chest, I prepared for what would surely be a deep discussion about who we are and what we’re going to do now. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
