//------------------------------// // Chapter 16 - To Each Other // Story: Pretence // by Kapuchu //------------------------------// A blue glow surrounding the handle of the oven, pulling it open. Vinyl, bereft of her glasses, stared critically at the half-done lasagna slowly being baked within. The cheese on top was bubbling slowly, leftover air and water escaping. She gave it a nod, that she felt properly conveyed her satisfaction as to how things were going, and closed the oven door again. She returned to the cutting board, grasped the knife in her magic and set about peeling and cutting apples.  She had been at it for most of the day at this point, first cleaning her entire apartment, including both her toilets and her guest room. She hadn’t used a duster for ages, something she knew her mother would have reprimanded her for had she been there, and it had taken longer than she expected to properly clean the windows. She hadn’t been a slouch since she moved out on her own, but she would be lying if she said she had held her apartment, to the same standards her parents did their home. The difference between what she could manage on her own, and what the mother-and-maid combo could, was very easy to see. If nothing else in how long it had taken.  The apple pie was coming along well enough in the minutes that followed, the simple routine of cooking something she was familiar with setting in, and giving her a few moments of peace. It allowed her to think without her pestering self-doubt that reared its ugly head. She was reminded that today would be her first date in several years. She would have liked to say that it wasn’t for lack of trying, but she had tried, at least a little, but even just being relatively famous, turned out to be a pain in the flank when it came to dating. There were the nearly obligatory zealous fans, who wanted to be with her only because she was somewhat well known in the music industry.  Then there were the other type of ponies who were “interested” in her, and these actually managed to make her perturbed. All they wanted were the money she supposedly had. She would be lying if she said she wasn’t well off. She earned most of her income from her DJ’ing and the albums she released, and it was enough to not really have to worry. But the knowledge that there were ponies out there, who only wanted her to get to her money…  She forced herself to take a deep breath, and take a moment to calm herself. Today was a good day, there was no need to sour it with bad thoughts. Think positive, positive… Violet and grey. Those were nice colours weren’t they? Nice colours were positive things.  She shook her head, forcing herself out of her reverie, and snorted at her own behaviour. Octavia had been invited to a date at her house, but she had made no mention or indication of it being romantic. That is, were she to be honest, she did like to think of it as a little romantic herself, but she suspected that it was only platonic for Octavia.  Unless, of course, the other musician had similar feelings to her own? No, that was expecting too much. She had already told herself that she would keep things on a friendly level, until things felt right. When that would be she had no idea, but perhaps today’s date would give her a good idea of it? No. Don’t get ahead of yourself, Vinyl, she told herself, and pulled open cupboards to get the sugar, cinnamon, and whatever else she needed for the pie filling, and threw it all in a bowl with the apple slices and started mixing it.  She had every intention of enjoying the date, which included not constantly worrying about whether or not they would end up together. Going down that particular train of thought, would lead to nothing but headaches and a constant spiral of doubt and worry. She turned back to focus on the cooking. It didn’t take long for the pie to be in her small oven, preheated until just opening it would have caused her glasses to fog over had she been wearing them. She checked the lasagna in the other oven one more time, and determined that it wasn’t long before she could turn off the heat.  Any further musings on the subject of culinary endeavours were summarily interrupted by the doorbell ringing, immediately waking butterflies in her stomach, that had until now been dormant. She forced herself to walk calmly to the front door, glancing up at the clock as she passed it — it was less than a quarter to six. The oak door loomed in front of her, on the other side the mare she had fallen for faster than she could have ever predicted. One of the only things that kept her from being a jittery mess, was knowing how much of a field day Lyra would have if she caught wind of Vinyl’s current state. Her heart felt like a pinball being bounced around in her ribcage.  She took a moment to quiet herself, then pulled open the door, and there she stood, burgundy scarf wrapped around her, a sweet smile on her lips and curls in both her mane and tail. “Good evening, Vinyl.”  Either the voice was truly like the jingling of bells, and windchimes in a breeze, or Vinyl’s overactive brain was convincing her that what stood before her was more beautiful than should be possible. Either way the simple greeting shook her out of her stupor. “Hi, uh, evening.” She stepped to the side and held the door open, letting Octavia inside.  She unwrapped the scarf from around her neck, and hung it on the single coat rack in the hallway, revealing the pink bowtie underneath. “Sorry I’m a little early, I hope it’s not an issue?” She asked. “As a filly I was always told, either you’re ten minutes early, or you’re late.” She chuckled. “Of course, that rule only counts if you don’t count on being fashionably late as they call it.”  She eyed Vinyl bemusedly. “So you either arrive early, or you arrive late? How does that even work?”  Vinyl shrugged and lead the way into her home proper. “I have no idea, it was just what I was told. It depends on the occasion, I suppose?” She looked over her shoulder, her cheeks brightening with rose. “I like what you did with your hair,” she said. “Curls suit you.”  Octavia seemed taken off-guard by the compliment, raising a hoof to her mane as if only just now remembering her new hairstyle. She put her hoof down again, seeming a little more comfortable. “Thanks. I’ll admit, I had wondered if it was perhaps too much. I also like what you did with your mane,” she added. “It looks longer now than when in spikes. Is it naturally in waves?”  Now it was Vinyl’s turn to be taken off-guard. She could feel the heat in her cheeks rising, and was sure it showed through her fur. She quickly looked elsewhere, suddenly afraid, that by putting effort into looking a little more like the classic, feminine mare, she had done something wrong. She knew the thought was illogical, but the paranoia that arose from suddenly having her crush point it out didn’t care.  She shook her head, chuckling awkwardly. “No, it’s normally straight. I just wanted to…” she rolled her hoof in the air, looking for the right word to use.  “Look prettier?” Octavia offered, making Vinyl want to answer both yes and no at the same time.  “Let’s say ‘change it up a bit’,” she said, striking what felt like a good middle-ground. She pawed at the ground a bit before turning to the kitchen, happy that her growing blush was hidden. “I’m glad you like it though. Feel free to treat my home like your own,” she added and checked on the food. The sight that greeted her gave her a small sense of satisfaction. She hadn’t made lasagna in long enough, that she had worried how it would turn out, but it seemed her worries had been for naught. She turned off the heat and set it on the counter the cool. The apple pie would be a while until it was finished baking.  “I like your garden,” came Octavia’s voice from the other end of the room. Vinyl rose up, looking over the half-wall that separated the kitchen and living room, and followed Octavia’s gaze through the wall-sized window..  “It’s not as if I do a whole lot to it,” she called back, leaving the oven to cool. Cabinets and drawers opened and out flew dishes and cutlery—everything she’d need to set the table. “I mostly just water the plants that were already there when I moved in.” A tablecloth pulled itself from a cupboard and laid itself over the table, the plates and other following.  “Really?” Vinyl shrugged, unseen by Octavia who still had her back turned to her. “Well, not entirely. See the bush-like plant to the left? The one that kind of droops, and has violet and and purple clusters of petals? I planted that one just after I bought the place.”  “A butterfly bush?!” This time Octavia turned to her, eyes wide. Vinyl nodded and trotted around the half-wall, giving the table a cursory inspection before she walked up beside Octavia.  “Precisely… It’s the same colour as your eyes, by the way.”  Octavia fell silent, and though a faint blush tinted her cheeks Vinyl feared she had gone too far. She backpedalled as quickly as she could, turning her attention towards the butterfly bush outside again. She lit her horn, bringing forth a memory from last summer when butterflies had been swarming the thing, and projected it into the bush itself.  “Most days during summer, this i what it looks like,” Vinyl said, and made a point not to look beside her for fear of what she might see in the other’s eyes.  “It’s pretty,” she heard from beside her, Octavia’s voice quiet, but steady. Thank goodness, she thought. It seemed she hadn’t alienated her friend with just the one sentence.  She chanced a glance, and found Octavia taking in the illusion, following individual butterflies as they moved from one branch to the other, as they had back when Vinyl saw it. She cut off her magic, the illusory butterflies disappearing. Octavia blinked but otherwise didn’t make note of it.  Relieved that she hadn’t butchered the dinner date, Vinyl headed back towards the kitchen, horn lighting again to grab the lasagna. “Butterflies aside, how have the last few days been?”  “Nothing much,” came Octavia’s replied, following in Vinyl’s heels and settling by the table. “I introduced Harpo to the world of martial arts, and he seemed to be having fun.”  “Harpo?” Vinyl asked, looking up from the lasagna now on the table. Her lips pressed into a thin line, and with no small amount of annoyance she had to admit the name rang no bells. “Uuuh, who was he again?”  “Oh,” Octavia said, nose scrunching, “right. You’ve barely met. Remember when we met outside of your recording studios? Where you had me play Pachelbel’s Canon?”  Vinyl stopped, her mouth opening in realisation. “Oh right!” She said, stomping the ground with one hoof. “He was the purple guy! Lyre for a cutie mark, right?”  “He was,” she replied, eyes trailing the water jug that hovered in Vinyl’s magic from the kitchen to the table. “Or, well, is. Still alive and well, if somewhat bruised after yesterday’s… I hesitate to call them antics, but a model student he was not.” She let out a snort. “Well, it was interesting, let us say.”  Knife held in her magic, Vinyl cut pieces of the lasagna, serving a portion to each of them. “I think I would have liked to see that.”  Placing her hooves on the cutlery, the magnets within took hold and let her start cutting a piece off. “Certainly worth it, I would say… And this is good!” She added, breaking every rule about speaking and dining that Vinyl’s mother had ever taught her. At least the blush on her cheeks told Vinyl she had realised it, and she even quickly apologised.  Vinyl decided to just wave it off. “Don’t worry about it. I’m not as much a stick in the mud as my mother.”  Octavia swallowed, and while pouring some water for herself, said, “speaking of mothers, I received a letter from mine. They’ll be visiting soon.”  “Oh?”  “Well,” she started, “we haven’t seen each other in quite a while. So we thought it was about time we spent some time together again.” Her brow furrowed thoughtfully, her mouth hidden behind her glass. “We don’t really have any plans, but we’re most just going to be spending a day or two together. Go to town, see things.” She put the glass down, waving a hoof in a circle. “You know, the standard things.”  It was quite likely that Octavia knew most of the common places in the city, but were there any uncommon ones that she might not know about? The thought ran through Vinyl’s mind as she chewed, the food giving her a convenient excuse to remain silent as she mulled over the options.  There was the zoo, but even if it was relatively new that didn’t make it any less mundane. Zenith’s new bar, perhaps? Not quite the place for family get-togethers, not that she knew Octavia’s parents, but, well, it was a bar, unique and new though it was. “How about museums?” Vinyl asked.  Octavia gave a half-hearted shrug, a look of something like uncertainty across her face. “I don’t know. I can’t really say if it’s to my mothers’ preferences. One of them is… of the right disposition to like that kind of thing, but Ivory.” She grimaced. “I am not so sure.”  It was Vinyl’s turn to look uncertain, her head tilting to one side not unlike a curious pup. “Why not?”  “Let’s just say I did not take after her much in terms of personality.”  Vinyl blinked, then blinked again, and then uttering a single, quiet, “ooh,” before understanding had even really settled in her mind. When it did, however, she said, “so I take it she’s a little bit of an oddball? The one you said wasn’t ‘stiff’, right?”  “Mum? Stiff?” She blinked, cocking her head to one side for a moment. “Oh, right! You saw the picture the other day. But yes, Ivory, or Mum, is the odd one. Chime is the stiff one who is… Let us call her straight laced, shall we?” She asked, a small smile on her lips.  Vinyl returned the smile, for the moment enjoying the gentle buzz of excitement in her chest. “I will take your word for it,” she said, and returned to the food. Octavia did the same. The rest of the meal was spent in companionable silence, some glances were shared, and a few comments as well, but nothing to ruin the peace that Vinyl, in that moment, coveted.  The quiet did end, of course, and when it did Vinyl was the first to rise. She grabbed both the  plates and cutlery in her magic and sent it towards the sink, sparing it only a glance to make sure she aimed right.  “I hope you’re not finished yet,” she said turning back to her guest, crush, friend—whatever it was Octavia was to her, she wasn’t quite sure yet—and leaned forward in her chair, “because I did arrange for desert.” She twisted in her seat again, this time aiming her magic at her small oven. The oven door sprang open and out floated the her steaming apple pie.  “Is that apple I smell?” Vinyl grinned at Octavia. “It is.” She hovered it over and put it down on the table, replacing the formerly lasagna-filled dish. She looked up from it, resisting the urge to dig in immediately. “I, uuh, actually considered buying fish for the dinner. Just to try it out, you know.” She wrinkled her nose, whether it was distaste or not she didn’t quite know. “Decided against it. Something about it felt off.”  Octavia didn’t seem off-put about it, instead giggling quite amusedly. “I don’t blame you. It’s mostly a pegasus thing, with a few exceptions.” She took a deep breath, visibly composing herself. She looked off towards the window, brow furrowed, then she smirked. “I heard an old story once, actually. An old mare’s tale about how gryphons once interbred with earth ponies, and that’s where pegasi come from. It should also explain why they’re more omnivorous.”  Vinyl snorted. “Hogwash. Science disproved that one a long time ago.”  “I did say it was an old mare’s tale,” Octavia said, pointing a hoof at Vinyl. “Now, how about that pie? I think I can handle at least one slice.”  Vinyl lowered her head in a small, mocking bow. “As you wish,” she said and cut two pieces from the pie and gave one to each of them. Two spoons and a bowl of creme fraiche. “I hope you like this stuff on your pie.” She left a dollop on her own piece and offered it to Octavia, who gave a nod and received one as well.  She received a grateful look in return before they both descended upon the dessert. The first bite had Vinyl thankful that she had chosen this particular dish, and the eagerness—even if polite eagerness—with which Octavia dug in told her enough about her opinion on it as well. She allowed herself a small smile around the spoon.  Octavia leaned back into the couch, a satisfied look on her face, eyes following Vinyl as she went to and fro in the kitchen. She had offered to help clean, but Vinyl had adamantly refused to let her, saying she should instead just enjoy a few moments of quiet, possibly spending some of them looking at the butterfly bush again. Even the offer of remaking the illusion on the flower had been made, but she had politely declined. She had seen what magical overexertion could lead to, and had little interest in contributing to it.  On the topic of the butterfly bush, there was still the matter of the comment Vinyl had made, about her eyes. She had not been quite certain what to make of it when she had said it, and so had simply let it slide. She knew it to be a compliment, and was appreciative of it, but it made her wonder, if—She snorted. No. Or perhaps, maybe? She furrowed her brows and looked out at the lilac bush again, wondering if the compliment had been more than just that. She was probably reading too much into it.  But then again, Vinyl had seen more than a little taken with her when had first greeted her. As Harpo had rightly pointed out—even if he had done it in jest and to rile her up—she was well aware that she was, at the very least, slightly more physically attractive than the average mare, if for no other reason than because she spent a fair amount of her free time training.  Thoughts of training sent through her a pang of irritation. Her hoof found the bandages still covering her wound, now mostly just a very large band aid. It was still sore, and she still could only do the very lightest of working out. If only— “Is something wrong?”  Octavia looked up, removing her hoof from the bandage and met Vinyl’s concerned face. She willed herself to smile, pushing away her irritation. “No. I was just… thinking.”  “About what?” Vinyl asked, climbing up in the couch as well. Her gaze lingered on the bandage, much to Octavia’s chagrin.  Truth he told, she didn’t want to talk about it anymore. Harpo was still harping her about it, telling her to take it easy, and even Azure had expressed her concerns that she was pushing herself too hard already. Damn it if she was going to just let her body waste away while her wound healed. It was well enough that she could at least trot on the treadmill, and do some simple exercises. She had worked far too hard to reach this point, and she wasn’t about to let it just— She stopped her own tangent, realising she had been silent and frowning. Vinyl’s eyes had left her injury and now rested on her face, the red alight with concern. She forced herself to breathe out, and for the second time over the course of less minutes than she had hooves, she pushed her irritation at her current predicament away and focused on the happy things: She was in Vinyl’s home, she was a good friend, and they had just eaten a nice dinner.  “This and that,” Octavia said at length, enunciating each word carefully to give herself more time to think. Her injury aside, she did not think it a terribly good idea to mention her thoughts on Vinyl’s earlier compliment. With that in mind she figured that she might as well mention the obvious issue. “I’m just irritated by my wound. A great deal, actually.” She motioned at the bandage with a jerk of her chin. “It is…” She sighed, shaking her head and rolling her shoulders. “I want to say troublesome, but it doesn’t quite cut it.”  “It’s a proverbial thorn in yo—” “A thorn in my side?” Octavia interrupted, fixing Vinyl, who at least had the self-awareness to look chagrined, with a glower. “Really?” “Sorry,” she muttered, “slip of the tongue.”  Unbelievable, she thought. If she didn’t know better—did she even know better?—she would have thought Vinyl had been trying to make a joke out of the situation. She eased up on the glower, softening her expression. “Don’t worry about it,” she said, and meant it, “and yes, it feels like a thorn in my side. Like it’s wreaking havoc on my habits and routine.”  Vinyl, who had been nodding along until now and maintained eye contact the entire time, searching for it whenever Octavia herself looked away, spoke up. “I think I understand what you mean. Whenever I use too much magic, I get a few days where I can barely do telekinesis, and it makes even the simplest of things nearly impossible.” She offered Octavia a smile and a tilt of her head. “Something like that, yeah?”  “Something like that, indeed,” she echoed, resting her back against the back couch, staring at the ceiling.  They stayed like that for a while, Octavia staring at the ceiling thoughts racing through her head, and Vinyl watching her in silence.  A part of Octavia wondered what went through the mind of that at mare, if she truly understood what it felt like, to have something robbed from you. It wasn’t just the wound itself that irked her, but what it reminded her of. She wanted to just be rid of it, for the wound to heal, and let her forget and move on.  “We never really got to properly talk about that day,” Vinyl said, catching Octavia’s attention.  She shook her head, then sat up straight again, facing Vinyl. “No, we didn’t. We had brief chats at the hospital, but… No, you’re right. We didn’t talk about it. Truth be told, I didn’t want to.”  Vinyl hummed, and blew a stray hair out of her face. “Now’s as good a time as any, then?”  She pressed her lips into a thin line, jaw clenching. The suggestion had been made so easily, flippant almost, and were she honest she wasn’t certain if she really wanted to broach the subject again. “I’m not sure,” she said slowly. “It’s not exactly a comfortable topic of conversation, how abo—” “Octavia,” Vinyl interjected, her usually kind eyes taking on a hard edge. Or perhaps not hard, but serious. “I care about you. A lot. We both went through that, so please don’t shut me out.”  She watched Vinyl’s—her friend’s—expression soften immediately after she had said it, the steel in her gaze flickering as she seemed to be quite literally biting her tongue. She was shutting Vinyl out, wasn’t she? Refusing to even broach the subject, it was rather childish wasn’t it?  She let her breath out, forcing herself to relax, easing up on the tenseness in her body. “I was scared,” she said, averting her gaze, deciding that Vinyl did not need to see the emotions play out on her face, even if she had agreed to talk about it. “I’ve trained to defend myself, and to grow strong, but for all the sparring I’ve done, that was the first time anypony has ever wanted to hurt me. More than that, even.” She shuddered, absently feeling Vinyl shuffle closer. “When I saw him blast you with magic like that, I felt so angry that, for just a few moments, my anger just disappeared.”  “I never did get to thank you for that,” Vinyl quietly butted in, smiling when Octavia turned to her with a puzzled look. “You put yourself out there for my sake, and that means a lot.” She chucked. “And you beat some serious flank, too.”  Leave it to Vinyl to ease the tension of a serious moment, with but a single sentence, Octavia thought, having been pulled out of the funk that came with reliving the experience.  “I was scared too,” Vinyl added, now sounding as somber as Octavia felt. She, however, didn’t look away. “I’m a strong unicorn, but that strength doesn’t mean I don’t get scared. Getting thrown against the wall stunned me, and when I came to I saw you kicking, and them screaming as you took them on, twenty against one.”  “It wasn’t that many.” Vinyl snorted, for a second humour glinted in her eyes again. ”I know, but it seemed like it.” Then she snorted, and the humour was gone. “But I saw you there, beating the snot out of them one after the other. And I had hope that you could actually beat them, but then—” “—Then they stabbed me,” Octavia finished, nodding. She still remembered the pain; remembered feeling the blade slip through her rips and grace her lung. She sighed and bit her lip, wanting once more to change the topic but choosing not to. Not yet, anyway. “I don’t blame you, by the way.”  She looked up, blinking. “What?”  “In case you felt guilty,” Octavia elaborated. “You couldn’t have known they would be there. I don’t blame you for it happening.”  “Oh.” Vinyl’s expression fell, her brows furrowing. “You know, I hadn’t even considered it, but I think you’re right. I probably would have blamed myself for it at some point… thank you.”  Now it was Octavia’s turn to brighten the mood, offering as kind and bright a smile as she could. “I never expected thanks for it, Vinyl. I would never blame you for it.”  “Okay,” she said, now no longer looking so crestfallen. “I should also say, I don’t think you failed me, either. I was so impressed with you, and it’s not your fault there were so many.”  Octavia nodded, slowly. ”I know,” she said, certain of that fact. “I still wish I could have done more. Wish I could—” Vinyl’s hoof on her nose stopped her in her tracks, her eyes crossing in the time it took her to realise what it was.  “None of that,” Vinyl insisted. “You did what you could, and that was that. I will forever be grateful for it, okay?” Octavia nodded mutely. “Good,” she said, and moved forward suddenly, wrapping her front legs around Octavia’s neck and pulling her into a hug.  Octavia stiffened at the touch, biting back a yelp. It wasn’t the hug she was averse to, but wounds that had yet to heal. “Vinyl,” she said, “remove your hooves please.”  Fast as she had initiated the embrace, Vinyl moved away, her cheeks bright with what Octavia assumed to be shame. “Sorry, I just… Felt like the right moment.”  “It’s not that,” Octavia said, shaking her head and scooting closer herself. “I’m not opposed to a hug, just, no hooves please?”  Vinyl nodded and tentatively moved closer again, craning her neck and briefly nuzzling against Octavia’s chin. As she had promised, her hooves remained firmly on the couch, and she instead just rested her head on Octavia’s withers, as Octavia did to her.  “Thank you for the talk, Vinyl. I think I did need to get it off my chest.”