//------------------------------// // Alone // Story: Octavia's Day Alone // by ThePoeticPitbull //------------------------------// “Octavia? What the hell you doing?” I froze, dropping the mechanism in my hooves. I was caught. Exposed. My social status, career, and relationship were as good as dead. And to think it all began so innocuously. - - - My morning began like every other Monday. I was unpleasantly awoken by the incessant sound of my alarm clock. I always hated being woken up by that dreadful device. Still though, it was either that or relying on Vinyl Scratch to wake me up, something that I wouldn't dare do, lest I wish to wake up deaf. Speaking of which, it was then that I noticed that something was off. The bedsheets were lacking their usual warmth. I just shrugged it off, thinking it was probably just because winter was approaching. “Vinyl, sweetheart, are you awake?” “...Vinyl?” Nothing. Not even the sound of deep breathing. This was making me nervous. I sat up to see the very sight I feared- Vinyl Scratch wasn't there. Panic began to clutch my mind, filling it with dark thoughts of paranoia, like “She's been kidnapped!” or “She's cheating on you!” I shook my head, to dispel the silly notions in my head. “What am I thinking? She's probably in the kitchen, or something.” I failed to assure myself. Knowing my nerves wouldn't let me do anything until I solved this little mystery, I poked my head through the door. Vinyl Scratch was yet to be seen, but it was evident she was there. The radio was turned on, and whatever ungodly sound it was playing, it certainly sounded like her sense of music. The oven was left open, and the island was a mess, cluttered with used pans, pots, and other utensils. Thankfully, before I could jump to conclusions, I noticed a stack of pancakes and a note by the coffee table. I immediately rushed towards it, unfolding it with the dexterity of a unicorn. “Dear Octavia. What's up? Well, yeah. Before you freak out or anything, I just wanna let you know I have been asked to play for some-pony's bat mitzvah. Sorry I didn't wake you up, I just got the message a few hours ago. Talk about last minute, huh? Don't worry, I'm getting payed big time for this! I'll be back sometime tonight. Maybe we'll go see a movie, then? Love, Vinyl. P.S. I made you waffles. Or pancakes. Is there even a difference? Whatever. See you soon, babe!” I couldn't help but smile a bit as I read her letter. Even if the kitchen was a wreck, and she had to start the morning off under the impression her mare-friend disappeared, it was hard be mad at her. Especially with pancakes. Yum. I folded the letter back into it's original form, and placed it exactly where it was, letting out a sigh of relief. “Now for those pancakes.” The pancakes certainly were as good as they smelt. I had to give her credit, under the tutelage of Pinkie Pie, she became quite the cook. She even went through the trouble of adding chocolate chips. While enjoying the breakfast, I noticed something else by the table. Vinyl Scratch's headphones. They were a deep purple, lined with blue accents. “Now, why would just leave these behind?” I asked myself. As I stared at them, I caught myself thinking what it would be like to try them on. At first, I dismissed the idea as foolish, giving a little chuckle, before returning to my pancakes. But I just couldn't quell my ever-growing curiosity. “Oh, I'm sure no-pony would mind... if I tried them on.” And that's what I did. I wasn't expecting them to feel or look this good. “Ooh, no wonder why Vinyl likes these so much.” I then come up with another idea. I glance towards the radio with a look that can only be described as a filly trying to steal from the cookie jar. I retrieved the radio, connecting the audio jack of the headphones with it. Suddenly my ears were blasted with intense volume. “Eek!” I shrieked, desperately turning knobs. Whatever I did, ended up changing the volume. The volume was now at a much more reasonable level, though I hadn't a clue what I was listening to. The sounds were synthetic and distorted, beside a consistent stream of beats. Thump. Thump. Thump. It was loud, rough, and had a very informal sound to it. Though the more I listened to it, the more it began to sound more intentional, more structured. I began to enjoy it. The headphones made it sound simply divine. Realization struck me shortly after. “Is it OK for me to be listening to this kind of music? What if some-pony catches me? I will be the black sheep of Canterlot! Again!” I cried. The first time was when they found out about my relationship with Vinyl. That was the longest Saturday of my life. If the Princess had not intervened, we would still be chased by that mob! I began to get paranoid again. I grabbed the headphones and radio, and slid into our room. I bit my tongue in excitement, as I turned the radio back on. But not before closing the blinds and door, of course. The music blared through the purple headphones once more. I spent the rest of the day simply lounging around with her headphones on, having completely forgotten about the fact that the house looks like Twilight Sparkle's Library . Filth is another thing we “upper-crust” musicians were supposed to loathe, by the way. I guess Vinyl has really rubbed off on me. In more ways than one. Before I knew it, it was after dark, and I can safely say I listened to well over fifty of these “Dubstep” songs. I even got to listen to some of Vinyl's, and- Wow, I need to get out more. “Well, time to put these back. Can't have Vinyl, or anyone else catch me, can I?” As if by some sick irony, the door suddenly flies open, leading us back to the present. - - - “Octavia? What the hell are you doing?” Vinyl asks, half worried, half confused. I dropped the headphones from my hooves in shock. “I wasn't using your headphones!” “What? Who cares about the headphones? I want to know why you missed your rehearsal, and why the neighbors think you've suddenly gone mad, and why you left your breakfast half-eaten! That took forever to bake!” she barked. I try to defend myself, or at least make sense of this situation, but I end up with all the coherency of Fluttershy. “I-I-I... uh...” “Well?” She asks again, getting more impatient. I couldn't take it any longer.“Ok, I was listening to your music OK? The radio was on, I found your headphones on the table, and I wanted to try them on, so I did, then I put them in the radio, and then I figure out I like the music, and then was scared if I would be disowned from the upper crust because of it, so I locked myself in the room all day, and I forgot I had rehearsal today and I'm sorry!” She gives me a quizzical look, pulling down her shades for added effect. “Seriously?” I never heard her say something in such a deadpan voice in my entire life. “Yes.” I nod. She then face-hoofs, walks out of the room, turning the lights off, and shutting the door. “...Vinyl?”