Octave woke up, sudden panic spiking through his body. “Note!” He said, startled, but immediately getting up to check on his friend. It was around 6:30 in the morning, but that didn’t stop Octave from rushing through to Note’s room, the air stale, but less sickly.
Noteworthy stirred in his bed, grumbling a bit. “What’s going on then?” He mumbled before sitting up, his eyes weighed down by exhaustion. A yawn poured from his mouth and reverberated in Octave’s ears. “How’s it going, Octy?” Noteworthy asked as he began to stretch his limbs, pushing them until he heard the satisfying pop in each major joint area.
“A-are you feeling better?” Octavia looked over the sweaty stallion that looked a lot better than last night before he fell asleep, with the only noticeable infliction on his health was a serious case of bed mane.
“A lot. Thanks to you, of course!” Note said as he took a sniff of the air, scrunching up his nose and shuddering at the sudden realization of his odor. “Uh, give me a couple minutes. I need to get myself cleaned up. Then...I’ll take you to breakfast. How does that sound?” Noteworthy asked as he got up from his creaky bed, the sheets sticking to him a bit more in some places than others.
“Oh, you don’t need to do that.” Octave looked away from Note, a small blush being concealed by his mask. Why in Equestria am I blushing? It’s not like he asked me out on a date. Octave thought, suppressing any thoughts that could deviate into outlandish fantasies.
Noteworthy finally moved around enough to feel comfortable in his still recovering body. “I insist. Besides, I didn’t really get to enjoy our last meal together and I would like to make up for that lost opportunity.” Noteworthy made his way to his bathroom, “I’ll be out in ten minutes, ok?”
Octave chuckled, then nodded. “Alright. I’ll be here, I guess. Waiting around.” Octave turned around and walked back into the living room. He sighed slowly, happily ripping off his mask. I’m glad to get this thing off. Octave mused as he sat silently in Note’s living room, the music that occupied his ears only ringing from his mind. That blush from earlier coming back with a vengeance as a warmth grew inside of him, the kind that starts in a concentric part of the chest before branching out to the rest of the body. His thoughts turned towards the assurance that he had done something good for a friend. Anypony would, for a friend. If they were sick, a friend, time permitting, would happily help them get back to tip top shape. It isn’t out of the ordinary to take some semblance of enjoyment out of doing it, right? I have nothing to be embarrassed about. Octave closed his eyes, trying his best to focus on something else. Onto that music.
Though deaf to the ears of others, a small tap of a conductor’s instrument struck the edge of a music stand. A deep breath in, followed by a synchronous molding of sounds rang Octave’s ear drums. The ensemble fine tuned, prepared to play each piece with refined, precise perfection, setting off its symphony. Each synthetic bow string gliding along the more metallic part of each instrument, moving from side to side, sometimes playing in unison, sometimes playing complementary to each other, all the time playing with a confidence unmatched by rival ensembles. Each instrument having their own part to add to the beauty that echoed and sent shivers down Octave’s spine. His contribution gaining more attention than the work of his peers, purely because of his equal, if not better, skill with an instrument without the use of magic or wings. Vibrations of the instrument reverberating through Octave’s entire body as the ensemble moved along, allowing for him to become more intune with each note he plays from the experience of knowing what each sound feels like. Each note, each slur, each trill, every key change danced and organized in Octave’s mind, the music memorized to a point of near obsession, letting him enjoy what others played, as the music continued its journey controlled by time.
The impactful finale played, and the last notes of the ensemble hanging in the air, the crowds of aristocrats stood up all at once to clap for the performance. Every performer stood up, waiting for the cue by Noteworthy to bow. Octave breathed in, feeling a crack in his chest, notifying him that he hadn’t been breathing right during the performance again. Thunderous stomping and clapping was all the ponies on stage heard for a good minute before even that noise dissipated in the hall’s acoustic chamber. The ensemble members packed up their instruments, talking and commenting on one another’s performance, all slowly breaking up into their own cliques, leaving just two left on the stage.
“We really pulled that out of thin air, didn’t we?” Octave asked, sorting his music and looking towards the now empty hall.
“Well, you played very well, as you always do,” Noteworthy gave a snarky smile, bouncing his eyebrows.
Octave snorted, “I’m beginning to think you’re biased. And that wasn’t what I was asking, was it?”
“Oh, don’t worry about it now, Octy! It’s done, it’s ove-” Noteworthy paused to bring his foreleg up and cough. “It’s over. We can go home, happy that it’s done, right?”
“It sounds like you could need the rest. Is that sickness coming back?” Octave looked at Note, his voice relaxed, his eyes less so.
“I don’t think so, but I will let you know if it does. You were a great help to me, Doctor Octy!” Noteworthy grinned, over exaggerating his enthusiasm in it.
“You call me that again, and I’ll tie you to your bed next time, leave you to fend for yourself with a bottle of medicine just out of reach.” Octave smiled back, mimicking Noteworthy’s enthusiasm. He put away his cello, music in the case, and closed his locker door.
Noteworthy came up to Octave, hugging him before whispering something in his ear, making Octave’s eyes go wide and a blush spread across his face. When he pulled back, he put more effort into the hug. “Thanks for looking after me, Octy. It means a lot knowing someone cares about me that much.”
“Think nothing of it, Note. I know you would do the same for me if I got sick, which I think you just got me seeing as you just hugged me.” Octave chuckled, albeit nervously.
“Right. Wouldn’t want you getting sick. We’ve got things to work on for our second little endeavour of the week. You feeling up to staying around for a while longer so we can practice?” Noteworthy asked, moving around to set himself up for either decision.
“I might as well. I’d like to actually play the songs, rather than just imagine playing them in your living room while you cough up a lung.” Octave said, walking back over to grab his cello.
“Great. Let’s get right to it then!” Noteworthy immediately showed a brighter bounce in his step, as if any sickness he was recovering from had just left his body right then. Enthusiasm oozed from his ecstatic smile.
As they went through each song, time and time again, Octave tuning both his own mastery of the song and Noteworthy’s singing, he recognized something peculiar in the music.
“So quickly does you Midas touch
Turn everything to gold
And with my heart right in your clunch,
A better me you mold.
Playing a sonata on my heartstrings with each word you say,
Your company is addicting, oh how I wish you’d stay,
That is why i must confess the secrets of my mind
And smile at you with no regrets, you smiling in kind.”
Hours later, after constant hammering of each and every song, Octave took a deep breath, his eyes opening and he gazed at the worn out Noteworthy. “You look like you need a nap.” Octave commented, giggling when he saw Note let out a big yawn.
“A light coma, preferably, but a nap would have to do. Tomorrow, I will rest my vocal chords. It’s pretty late. Do you want to stay the night again? A lot less quarantine this time, I promise.
Octave laughed a bit harder this time, “Alright, you’ve convinced me. Though it will be a dull day if I’m not constantly hearing your voice.”
“Flattery will get you nowhere, Doctor Octy” Noteworthy trilled, his tired face contorting into a snide grin.
Octave rolled his eyes and scoffed, “Alright, Noot, whatever you say. Let’s just get back to your house.”
…………
A lone, small chandelier hanged above the duo, its light illuminating them and the kitchen around them. Night, in its adolescence, engulfed all other light from the rest of the house. The linoleum floor lightly echoing laughter and conversation from the two, leaving a small ringing in both of their ears that neither cared to mention.
Noteworthy wiped a tear from his eye, still confused as to why the thought of a unicorn with its horn on its back was so funny, “How would it wear clothes? Everything would need to be tailor made for its horn just being there. Celestia help the poor pony,” He then started back again in a fit of laughter, followed by Octave’s laughter joining him.
“Celestia help the tailor!” Octave wheezed at the thought.
Their interesting conversations meandered here and there, having no true purpose save for the entertainment of discussion, wearing down their psyches and alertness. Each minute that passed weakened their ability for proper conversation, degrading to short sentences and one word exclamations that would send the two into yet another fit of uncontrollable laughter.
“W-well, I think it’s right time to get to sleep. What say you there?” Octave asked Noteworthy, his eyes threatening to close as he fought to keep focus on the pony in front of him.
“Mighty fine idea, Octy. Mi-” Noteworthy cut himself off with a wide mouthed yawn, “Mighty fine indeed. You want the bed this time? It was very inhospitable of me to leave you on the couch last time.”
“You were so weak you could barely walk, last time. I don’t think the first thing on your mind was to be hospitable. And no, I think I will be fine on the couch again. I’m too tired at this point to care. I’d gladly sleep on a hot bed of coals, if it meant I got to sleep.” Octave smiled, the action wavering from lack of effort put into it.
“If you say so.” Noteworthy got up, putting the cups that they had out away. A sudden will of clarity passed through him, his mind sharper than it had ever been that night. “I’m gonna say this again, cause I think you have to hear it again. You really are a good friend. Thanks for being there with me, and helping me.” Note looked directly into Octave’s unfocused eyes, smiling ever so lightly.
“Happy to help!” Was all Octave could muster before succumbing to another fit of giggles. “I’m gonna go to bed now.” Octave began to walk into the living room, “Night, Noot!” He said before laughing hysterically in the other room.
Noteworthy shook his head and called out, “Night.”
The house became quiet after that, leaving both stallions to their thoughts. Octave laid on the couch, quickly slipping into sleep, while Noteworthy stared up at the ceiling, Has he noticed? Will he notice? He’s a smart pony, so I have to give him credit for that. I guess only time will tell. Events of the last couple days replayed in his head; the delirium of him getting sick, them practically crashing into the house to get him into his bed, the fever dreams of Octave leaving him dancing in his head, the break from his fever, their conversations, the beginning of the concert, and finally tonight. It all floating in his head, bringing a smile to his face and a stronger faith in his conviction, making him more certain in what he will do.
He kept that smile as he let sleep pass over him, only opening his eyes to call out to the darkness, “Goodnight, My love.”