//------------------------------//
// XVII - A Kiss to Greet the Future (Hoofghanistan - Pt. III) 
// Story: At Your Service 
// by Deyeaz 
//------------------------------//


XVII - A Kiss to Greet the Future (Hoofghanistan - Pt. III)




“Octavia?” said a voice. The mare awoke, eyes creaking open. She shut them at once, as the ever-bright sun scorched her retinas. Groaning away the pain, she shook her head, and yawned widely, shielding her mouth with a hand. She woke up to see Midnight standing up next to the Vespa, which he had parked next to the one Frédéric and Vinyl had placed on the side of the road. The roaring of cars swam into her ears. “You okay?” asked the Sarosian.

“Yes, I’m quite alright,” Octavia mumbled, the mare getting up, only to feel a jerking sensation around her pelvis: she saw that a seatbelt had appeared. That wasn’t there before… she mused, a little intrigued by its appearance. Either way, she undid the latch and rose to her hooves. She wish she hadn’t, as black spots starting clouding her vision, fizzling and blinding for a moment before she blinked and shook them away. She swayed slightly in her gait, but gained stability with the help of their parked Vespa.

“What’s on the agenda?” Frédéric asked, the stallion giving Midnight his phone back.

“Oh, a good deal of things. Namely cupping.” Vinyl and Octavia stared at Midnight, furious blushes spreading like wildfire in their cheeks as they shielded their bosoms with their arms. Midnight saw the gestures and just snorted in laughter. “Not that kind.”

“Oh.” Vinyl uncrossed her arms.

“Although, that would be nice.” This earned Midnight a punch to the shoulder by Octavia. “Kidding!” he hollered, declaring his surrender with raised hands. “I’m talking about cupping in the sense of phlebotomy. Bloodletting. It’s a form of medicine originated by the Chineighs, then became popular in Saddle Arabia over fourteen hundred years ago.”

“I don’t really care for the origin of the practice,” commented Octavia. “Is it effective?”

“Absolutely. It suctions out all the bad blood. Granted, you’ll want to take a little nap afterwards due to the anemia.” The Sarosian motioned to them to return to their motorbikes. They obliged the notion, and revved the ignitions. “Octavia?”

“Please. Call me ‘Tavi’,” responded the cellist, strapping her helmet on again. It was the least she could do to give a green light to permitting their friendship to bloom further. “It’s much quicker than having to pronounce my full name.”

Midnight felt a lump in his trachea at the suggestion. He did his best to hide his enthusiasm with apathy. “Alright… Tavi. I just want to warn you. Some of the guys here in this city are… kinda sleazy. They’ll no doubt try to hit on you and Vinyl, so I’d advise you to either stick with me or Frédéric.”

“A-alright. Thanks for the warning.” Octavia gripped Midnight’s midriff again as they scooted down the streets, Frédéric and Vinyl trailing right behind them. 

Thus, their fun began.


~


Day one. The day they started.

It consisted of the cupping visit. The stallion in the dark brown polo and black shorts, who stated that he was the proprietor of the building and its business, welcomed them. He separated them by gender, allowing the mares to be tended to by mares, and the stallions by stallions. Tiny incisions were made on their sterilized backs with razors, deep enough to draw blood. Small glass cups lined with rubbing alcohol, once briefly set alight, pulled the phlegm-like blood from their cuts into the vacuum that the glass erected.

It extended on for thirty minutes, give or take. Vinyl was listening to music during it, the loud dubstep and the bopping of her head expelling any anxiety or terror for the operation. Octavia was… well, at first nervous. Until she started having a fit of the giggles from how the procedure tickled something awful. Frédéric was relaxed during it all, making a little small talk with the stallion giving them the phlebotomy, who knew his fair share of Equuish. Midnight was silent, reading a newspaper article on how one of the politicians had died.

“What happened?” Frédéric inquired.

“Apparently, Senator Silver Scales had committed suicide: she downed a bunch of flu pills like trail mix and crashed her car shortly afterwards into a tree,” explained Midnight.

“Well, they could have put her on dialysis for a few weeks, she would have been fine,” argued Frédéric.

“Not exactly. She took a nice battle charge into a stalk of wood. That, and the flu pills were amantadine.”

“And?”

“According to the autopsy they released in this paper, her kidneys got trashed by the collision. Her heart had stopped temporarily during the ambulance ride, and they had to ice her at the hospital to preserve her organs while trying to piece out how it all happened. But when they thawed her, the amantadine poisoning went back to circulating through her body. Dialysis would have worked, but not only was her condition worsened with cardiac complications and acute liver failure, but amantadine binds with proteins. It would have been laced throughout her organs. She was dead since she got on that ambulance.”

“Wow… my condolences to her family.” Frédéric shook his head, disturbed by this bit of information. “Wait, how do you know all that?”

“Nine years of solitude and a massive cache of books can do wonders for one’s intellect,” he simply answered.

Sixty Bits, a nap at a local park to revitalize from the benign anemia, and a quick bite to eat at a little café later, they then went to visit the Ancient Fleek ruins. Vinyl and (reluctantly) Octavia jousted in one of the small coliseums with long tree branches, with Midnight and Frédéric respectively acting as their trusty steeds. Hilarity, screaming in both exaggerated rage and realistic fear, and bandage placements for some little wounds ensued. When the sun had long since set during their trek through the ruins, they all went back to the house for dinner and bed.

Day two.

Frédéric still saw that Midnight had gotten up early, and questioned where his friend could be at this hour before heading back to sleep. He heard a splash outside, but his fatigue-ridden mind figured it was a rock that had fallen into the swimming pool in the backyard.

They left early afternoon, Vinyl leaving with Midnight, and Octavia with Frédéric, for a drive to some of the places they wanted to see next: Vinyl’s choice being one of the underground nightclubs, “Blackout”. Obviously, it was closed, but the alabaster mare felt the adrenaline in her veins as she fabricated a vision of how “bumping” it would be if it were open—with her slamming down mixes and slamming back drinks. Octavia and Frédéric, rolling their eyes during Vinyl’s entire fantasy, were elated to see that there was a theater for the musical arts in the city above ground.

While at a vegan-friendly restaurant, Octavia followed Midnight outside when he left to smoke another fag. The others looked at her departing, their mouths full of rice with steamed cauliflowers. “You okay?” she asked of him.

“Just… another craving,” explained Midnight. Although, for unfathomable reasons, it felt as though he was making an excuse. He had noticed how she gazed at Frédéric with adoration as she barely even chewed the falafel she ordered. It yanked at his heartstrings to witness the scene, the way she was almost pining to feed him, like they were a bunch of sweethearts. A declaration of needing to marinate his body with nicotine made his uncomfortable escape be performed unquestioned. It gave him time to brood.

That is, until she followed him a moment later.

“Listen… I know a great deal about you… and yet you know next to nothing about me,” clarified Octavia, binding and unbinding her fingers together. “So. What do you want to know?”

Midnight looked at her, light between his slender and lengthy digits. “Wait. You want to bond with me?”

“Well… yes!” Octavia exclaimed. She caught that pitch elevation and softly reiterated her words. “Yes. It’s not fair to you to be left in the dark about the one bossing you around,” she said teasingly.

Midnight scrunched up his muzzle and gave her the evil eye. A leer that would have been formidable if it weren’t for his facial expression. Octavia suppressed a snicker that threatened to break loose. “Okay,” Midnight said. “What are–?”

“You’re not getting my measurements, Midnight,” interjected the mare.

“Damn… well… I’ll interrogate you when those two aren’t really… you know, examining us like we’re lab rats.” He subtly jerked his head to Vinyl and Frédéric.

They all returned to the underground section of the city and back to the house. Midnight had “challenged” Octavia to a friendly game of Pony Hawk Pro Skater 4 in his room. Granted, this was innuendo that it was time for her to be interrogated. She feigned skepticism about the idea. His dad Comet Ash, who was reading a newspaper in his favorite lounging chair in the living room, deadpanned at him before winking stupidly. Nebula hobbled over to her grandson and told him to let the woman be the one to dominate, game or otherwise (Midnight could only blush ridiculously at all this unnecessary advice). Galaxy, making lunch in the kitchen, sighed at how his son’s foolish love for games had never weathered away once during his nine years spent in Canterlot.

Once past the door, Midnight closed it, his horn soundproofing the room. He shoved a T-shirt into the hole in the wall, and the both of them sat down on the ground, crosslegged. They made intense eye contact, the stallion’s blush being harder and harder to dumb down.

“Well? Fire away,” the mare said. With that, the army of questions charged forth.

What high school she attended—Canterlot High.

What college she then graduated to—Canterlot University for the Arts, or CUFTA, which she graduated at twenty-two.

How old she currently is—twenty-five, would turn twenty-six in September ninth.

What age she started playing the cello—eight, the age she then also earned her Cutie Mark just a week after learning to play.

What she initially dreamed of being when she grew up—a doctor.

Any phobias or weird fears—arachnophobia.

How she met Vinyl—at their first year of CUFTA, during their music lectures. They initially disliked each other due to their opposing tastes in music.

What her parents were like—strict socialite musicians… yet loving and caring ponies.

If she had any siblings—none, but she did have a cousin named Fiddlesticks, who was a distant relative to the Apple family.

If she learned any foreign languages—Prench from her mother.

If she had any least favorite classes in high school or college—AP Physics B, in which all of the formulas she had to memorize for the exam left her a nervous, caffeine-fueled wreck.

When she joined the Canterlot Quartet and met Frédéric—a little over a year after graduating from college with her bachelor’s degree in the fine arts.

When she fell in love with him, a question that made Midnight queasy with envy of his friend—a month after joining the Quartet, an answer that brought a mortifying blush to Octavia’s cheeks.

“Man… your life is quite a fun one.” hummed Midnight. They had spent five minutes or so talking about her. It was worth every microsecond, though, as the Sarosian’s brain hungrily devoured this information and kept it tucked away in his memory. Possibly for a very long time.

“Not… all of it, to be honest,” countered an abashed Octavia. “High school was not too fun for me, Midnight.”

“Ditto to that. What were you anyway, Tavi? Band geek? Loner? Math nerd? I was definitely a math nerd. And a science nerd. Pretty much nerdy at everything.” Octavia smothered another giggle at his rambling. 

“I was actually… none of those, really. I was almost... worshipped at that school. A great deal of ponies idolized me, but for the wrong reasons entirely. They wanted to be in my presence because of my status, because of my family, because of what I can do. I knew that because I could hear my quote-unquote ‘friends’ mentioning it in the locker rooms before those sports I oh-so deplore and… suck at..”

Midnight patted her back encouragingly, mustering as much empathy into each pat as he could.  “I don’t really know that feel. About… you know, being used for ulterior means, not the sports part, I sympathize with that entirely.” Octavia chuckled. “I was a wallflower in high school, so… you know. No one really bothered me.”

“Why am I not surprised?” chimed Octavia sarcastically.

“Oh, shush.” Midnight still grinned cheekily. “So? Any high school coltfriends?” he inquired. The question was an odd one, giving that the both of them were in the sanctity—or lack thereof—of Midnight’s room. But then again, what mare would be turned on by a bunch of anime posters and shelves stuffed with books?

Octavia sighed. “No. Not a one.”

“Whaaat? Come on, no way that a beautiful mare like you could not have had one stallion to call your own.” He didn’t immediately realize what sort of trap he had stumbled into, for Octavia’s cheeks burned a very nasty shade of red. He wanted to kick himself for letting loose that faux pas.

“Y...you called me beautiful,” she said sheepishly, twirling a bit of her mane. She was floored by the sudden adjective. Her mind began evaluating it. She then remembered the first dinner she had here, how Star Hopper had suggested that Midnight had loved her. What? Preposterous. Midnight doesn’t see me in that sort of light. Besides, he already knows that I’m… in love of Frédéric. I’m unfamiliar, and perhaps a little uncomfortable with this city, and he just called me beautiful to boost my morale here, like a good friend would in a time of distress. Think of it as nothing more, Octavia.

“S-sorry about that,” he stammered, waving a hand to dismiss his slip.

“Don’t be!” said Octavia, a little nervous as she twiddled her thumbs. “You… really think that?”

Oh, Goddess. Hooked, lined, and sunk, I am. “Y-yes.” Midnight gulped away his fear, and stared Octavia directly in the eyes. “I find you to be a very attractive and talented pony. I’d be remiss if I did not remind you of that fact.” The cellist’s blush grew more profound by the scribe’s more-than-kind words. Head bent down in shame, Midnight could only internally curse at himself for stumbling into circumstances like this. “C-continue with your story, please? I’d like to know more.”

“R-right.” Octavia had to pause, waiting for her pulse to return to its previous rate. “There were a great deal of suitors, I assure you. But, between weeding out the ones that wanted to only date me to ascend to popularity, the ones that I couldn’t date due to my constricting schedule of cello lessons and study sessions, and the ones that just… just–”

“...Wanted to get in your pants?” he finished.

“Shut up! I didn’t say it out loud for a reason. But yes, that.”

Midnight still chuckled at her reaction. “Okay, okay, sorry. Continue?”

“But between all of that rubbish… I was not entirely interested in them all. By that, I mean that I wasn’t completely invested in reciprocating their... love, for lack of a more suitable word. Besides, most high school romances are just… spawned by a raging, enormous vat of hormones. I was just slammed with studies and my cello lessons, as well, so once I was out of high school and college, did I find it appropriate to be interested in stallions.”

“Interesting… well, I’m having quite a ball being your shrink,” said Midnight matter-of-factly, winning a soft little laugh from Octavia.

“Well… what about you? Any marefriends?”

“Heeeck, naw,” he drawled. “What mare would have gone for a smart-ass loner like me? Particularly in high school?” To prove his point, he used his magic to pull out a little black box. He undid the combination on the lock and opened the case. He withdrew from it a rolled-up picture and handed it to Octavia. “Hay, I can even prove that I was a complete Captain Cringe in school.”

“Heh… Captain Cringe,” Octavia repeated with a giggle. She unfurled the photograph and saw a very atrocious sight. It was Midnight, when he was fifteen. His glasses were round, lopsided, and horn-rimmed. He had braces on, emphasized by the headgear. His white hair, styled in curtains, was shorter, but greasy, even in the photo. He had acne peppering his face, some of the pimples even evident underneath his peach-fuzz mustache.

She quickly glanced at this caricatured picture, and at the pony that was sitting before her, twelve years older and definitely more... well, attractive. “Oh… dear… Celestia!” squealed Octavia, laughing uncontrollably at the comparisons. “Oh… Ahahahahaha!” She clutched her waist in a hysterical fit.

“Oh, har har har, gimme that,” droned Midnight as he plucked the picture from her grasp and tucked it back into the box, which he chucked back underneath the bed.

“I’m… I’m so sorry!” she apologized, out of breath and exasperated. “I just… I didn’t think you used to look like that! You look so… cleaned up. Handsome, actually.”

Midnight shuffled awkwardly in his position at being called handsome, warmth spawning all over his face. The only ponies that really called him handsome were his mother, and the mares that would interact with him, given the right amount of alcohol they had downed. “I’m not that handsome, come on.”

“No, no! You do! You’ve… almost evolved, in a sense. I hadn’t the foggiest that that was what you looked like as a teenager.”

It was Midnight’s turn for his face to smolder in mortification. “C’mon, you’re just saying that to butter me up and make me feel better.”

“Stop being so modest! Admit that you look a damn sight more attractive now than before… Naponeon Dynamite,” she tittered. Midnight scrunched his muzzle up once more, still surprised that ponies believed that was what he looked like as an adolescent. Still, they could only chuckle at the accurate description.

The two of them soon settled into a pleasant silence after their laughter fest came to a halt.

“So…” hummed Octavia, awkwardly shuffling in place. “There’s nothing more about me I can disclose.”

“What about your–?”

“No, Midnight.”

“Damn it!” grumbled the Sarosian, his attempt to get those lucky numbers of hers failing once again. “Aw, well. Let’s leave?”

“Of course.” As they rose to their hooves, Octavia cleared her throat, notifying Midnight to swivel back around and face her. Good thing, too: he was almost at the door. “Actually…can I ask just one question?”

“Fire away,” Midnight offered for her to sit on the edge of his bed, while he stood and leaned against the door.

“...How does your mother do it?” she asked.

“Eh?”

“How does your mother raised thirteen kids under one roof? What could drive her to want to have all these children?”

Gone was his mirth. Midnight stared at the ground solemnly as he evaluated her question. He then turned back to her and answered. “Those children… they didn’t really have homes. And if they did, they were homes where they were treated poorly. Abuse, whether it be physical or emotional, which then lead to Foal Support interfering, which led to my mom interfering.”

He reared his head back towards the earth. “My mother… she cares for those kids. She loves them like roses love the sunshine… or inventors love their creations. She feels like she had actually given birth to those children, the way she nurtures them. She invented a world where love is without limits. She... created an encompassment where genetic borders don’t even matter as long as someone is there to be there for you when you need it. Support you when you’re under the weather. To hug you… or kiss you… out of pure adoration.”

He could feel himself slowly get misty-eyed. He hated that he was showing complete weakness in front of a mare. A mare that he was hopelessly in love with, nonetheless. He couldn’t look her in the eyes now. Not at this point in time. 

“I don’t think there’s any thrill that went through her heart like that felt by the mother as he or she sees her flesh and blood grow, learn, and unfold to success. Such emotions can make a pony forget about food… sleep… friends… love... everything,” Midnight uncrossed his arms, and wiped his eyes with a handkerchief. “We’re family through and through. Blood and marriage is but a bunch of hooey in this household, when it comes to those kids. Love is the coal that makes this train roll. That’s what she would say whenever somepony asked why… why she’d take these kids in. And… I love her for following that idea. It makes things like racism, discrimination, sexism… all just feel like childish disputes, like who gets to go down the slide first, or who should take turns playing with blocks. She… she’s why I’m not dead, crazy, or institutionalized right now.” He dabbed as his eyes again. “S-sorry for being such a sobbing mess.” 

“No, no…” replied an upset Octavia, rubbing her hands together. She definitely did not expect to see this event unfold before her. “It’s alright. I’m sorry for asking such a silly question.”

Midnight stifled a chuckle of mirth. “It’s fine. It wasn’t silly. You genuinely wanted to know. And that’s gre–”

He was cut very short, as Octavia had stood up abruptly from the bed, looking at Midnight seriously. “What’s the matter? Did I say something... wrong?” he asked. His query was never replied to… well, not through words. For Octavia had swiftly walked over and hugged him.

Midnight could feel time trickle like tree sap. It electrified him to stand there, being embraced by her. The feel of her arms linking behind his back. The presence of her head resting on his right shoulder. The sensation of her body pressing against his cozily, as though he had been enshrouded in a warm wool blanket. She felt like a jigsaw puzzle piece, clicking into place with him. 

“Not at all, Midnight.” He could smell her, the scent of her obsidian mane consisting of fragrant magnolias. He could feel her chest rise and fall with each breath, the rushing air flowing out of her mouth tickling his neck. Her heart beat against his torso rhythmically, like a drum. He could only wish that his, currently hammering away at his ribs like a metalworker at fiery ingot, was not being detected at the moment by her. It was the closest he had ever gotten with her, in that instant. It was wonderful, the only word Midnight could concoct at that moment. His biased heart, enshrouded by romance and hypnotized by it, was slowly raising his arms up. He held her, embraced her back. He swallowed her tightly, biting his lip to keep from losing all emotional control.

“Tavi?” Midnight finally said after a minute into it. He pulled away to gaze intently into her eyes.

Her amethyst, beautiful, breathtaking eyes.

“Yes, Midnight?” Octavia peered back at him. Midnight gulped as he examined her more, his pulse bellowing in his ears. Her velvet lips. Her smoothly-curved muzzle. Her lengthy eyelashes, her well-groomed jet-black mane. Her rosy cheeks. Her warm, friendly smile. But he still kept getting pulled in by her magnificent eyes. Those pools of wine that kept pulling him in, as though he were magnetized to them, intoxicating him with desire.

His heart, frantic and on the edge of its seat, shrieked, “Yes. Do it. Go on. Ask her out. What are you waiting for? You love her, right?”

He did.

Oh, he did, indeed. Had he been any other stallion, he would have done it. He would have bled out all of his emotions for her right there. Tell her that he loved her.

But he was not any other stallion.

He was Midnight Oil. Twenty-seven years old, an IQ of 216, with a career as the royal scribe to Princesses Celestia and Luna. Avid literature nut, science whiz, math geek, fan to video games and pop culture. Absolutely pathetic when it came to relationships, be they platonic or romantic.

He had a brain, thankfully… his tool that he has trusted far more than his heart his whole life...and his brain bellowed “No.” from the heavens. “Don’t do it. She loves Frédéric, not you. As much as you love her, you ought to let her go. At the least, give her time to decide who she loves. Odds are… it won’t be you. You know that. Confessing to her now would jeopardize—correction, eviscerate—your friendship with her. Why ruin a good thing?”

Battle with his mind all he wanted, it would be futile. For his conscience was correct.

He was too afraid to love her.

Terrified beyond all common sense to hear the word “no” slip from those pretty little lips of hers.

“...Nothing,” Midnight finally said, peeling away from her. Octavia appeared concerned for her friend. But she let it rest. He would talk to her about it in due time. “Let’s go?”

“Sure. Whatever you say.” He un-soundproofed the room, allowing her to exit first. She slowly did so, carefully scanning him before the door blocked him from her sight. He followed her out, heart aching as though he had been assaulted with a maul.

Octavia didn’t know how he felt, really. All she was concerned about was the serene fluttering in her heart, as though she had swallowed a nest of butterflies. She did a good thing. She assumed it was only natural to feel this way after giving assistance to somepony she could count on.


~


Day three.

Frédéric had finally discovered the reason behind Midnight getting up very early. At around four o’clock in the morning, he heard the front door closing behind somepony. He ejected from the bed and ran quickly to the door to see who it could be. Sure enough, he found the Sarosian in gray sweats and a hoodie, ears stuffed with earbuds and a bottle of water in his fist.

“This is a dream,” said Midnight solemnly. “None of this is real. You saw and heard nothing. Go back to bed.”

“Wow,” voiced a somewhat disturbed Frédéric. “Never figured you do this.”

Midnight sighed in defeat. He figured that Frédéric would just keep pushing. “I’ve been… doing it for some time actually. A couple years, alternating between jogging and swimming,” the other stallion explained, removing his earbuds for only a moment. Frédéric nodded in understanding; he finally knew what the splash in the pool from yesterday was.

“Huh… so when you had to pull that carriage for Octavia when you first met her? That was a ruse?”

“What? She told you that?” Frédéric nodded. “No. That shit was damn heavy. It felt like lugging a battleship around until I enchanted it.”

The pianist snorted a little at the jibe. “Listen… what were you and Octavia talking about in your room?” Frédéric was growing mildly suspicious. “You didn’t happen to confess to her, by any chance?”

Midnight shuffled his hooves in disappointment. “No… of course not.”

“But… you wanted to, didn’t you?”

Midnight felt more and more ashamed. The agonizing sensation in the pit of his stomach oozed a miasma of failure. “Yes. I did… but… you know me. I’m a coward for not doing so, but I’m an even bigger coward for going to her behind your back. You must have thought I had betrayed your trust or something.”

“Midnight….” Frédéric approached Midnight, and clamped his shoulder firmly, much like how a father would his son when trying to understand him and his troubles. “You are, by no means, a coward. I’ve met stallions who would crumple at the thought of being alone with another girl like her. I’m quite proud to call you a friend, really. The fact that you didn’t ask her out is fascinating.”

Midnight smiled warmly. “Thank you… would you like to come with me on my jog?”

“No, thank you. I’m tired as all hay,” yawned Frédéric. “Sorry. I’ll go back to bed, shall I?”

“Yeah, sure. Don’t worry, man.” Midnight stuffed his earbuds back in their place and teleported beyond the gate of the driveway. He reappeared on the street and jogged off down it.

Much later that same day, the house received a reminder in the mailbox. The children had all long since returned from school, so they had gathered around to hear what it was all about. Midnight had translated that there was to be an annual festival to be held four days from then, on the second of June. It was held to celebrate the day when one of the heroes of old had managed to tame and ride the first wild dragon, one that had been terrorizing the city for a long time. There was to be food, festivity, music, fireworks, and a ritual dance held there.

“Interesting,” Octavia commented, once they had all cleaned up after dinner. “Sounds like you and I can play our instruments there, Frédéric.”

“Oh, I hope so,” inserted Frédéric.

“Maybe I can play some of my tunes there!” added Vinyl, excited to finally display her music to the public.

“I dunno,” concluded Midnight. “I guess I can join the ritual dance. I’ve still got it memorized from previous festivals.”

“I’d actually like to see you dance, you know?” Vinyl said, a little intrigued on if Midnight actually was quick on his hooves.

“As would I. It doesn’t really seem believable to say that you can dance,” said Frédéric.

“He’s actually quite a good dancer,” Night Glider commented, holding one of her surrogate sisters in her arms and gently rocking her to sleep.

“He’s got the smooth moves to sweep you off your hooves!” Star Hopper interjected, mirroring her twin’s actions to the dot. The youngster in her grasp stirred at the sound of her voice, but remained unperturbed in his slumber. “Whoopsy-daisy,” she whispered cautiously.

“You all have talents that fascinate me to no end,” said Midnight, eager to divert the attention to somepony else. “Vinyl, I’ve heard your music: it’s really good, but I’d like to see it… live.” Vinyl felt warmth slowly slide up to her cheeks, but she suppressed it right away. “Octavia, Frédéric. I’ve never heard you guys play. But for you to be in the Canterlot Quartet, you simply have to be amazing.” The two classical artists smiled happily in unison. “I honestly can’t wait for this.”


~


Day four.

The four of them went swimming in the backyard. It was quite funny to make the comparisons between Frédéric’s more built physique compared to Midnight’s slender appearance. They jokingly questioned him on why he wore a muscle shirt, and swim pants instead of trunks. Correction… only Frédéric and Vinyl did. Octavia already knew the reason why he still chose to conceal himself.

Midnight’s answer: he didn’t give one. He merely gave them a middle finger as he jumped off the fifteen-foot tall diving board and swan-dove into the water below. Laugh all they could, Frédéric was by no means faster than Midnight at swimming from end to end of the pool, proof that the latter had indeed joined the swim team during his younger years. He was, as the pianist once described it, “like a oiled-up black dolphin on the beefiest steroids.” A joke at which they couldn’t all stop giggling at.

The festival’s preparations were being made throughout the city. Flags and banners were being hung along the walls of the homes. Some of the stores, as well as a great handful of vendors, were checking their wares to see if they would have enough of them in stock for the good folks of Jalalabuck. Talk of how it would be a very successful event flitted through the city. Everyone seemed surge with some sort of energy as they all worked to create the greatest camaraderie they could summon.


~


Day five.

Preparations for the festival were going well underway. Reports around Jalalabuck stated that it would all be finished late afternoon tomorrow, June fourth. In the meanwhile, Midnight and company had to leave for the bazaar for the appropriate clothes for the festival.

For the ladies, two dresses to fit the festival’s theme. The dresses looked almost Hindi, the way the cloth draped around the hips and shoulder, how the chestpiece (Octavia’s euphemism for the bra portion of the outfit) was studded with gold or silver pieces. Vinyl was gung-ho to give it a test drive, returning from the changing room in her ruby-red outfit and earning some applause from Midnight and Frédéric, whilst Octavia could only comment on how stunning she looked.

The red cloth fit her hips and powerfully accentuated her body and flaming eyes, shining the light of the store off of the golden studs embedded. The chestpiece complimented her ample bosom, the dress itself giving prominence to her wonderfully wide hips, the silken thread of her clothes capable of drawing all watchers in hypnotically. The golden headpiece, which jingled merrily as she turned or shook her head, fit snugly around her cranium. She looked fantastic, beyond all logic.

“Oh, ten outta ten!” judged Midnight, clapping raucously. 

“Very lovely, Vinyl, very lovely,” mentioned Frédéric. All of their positive feedback boosted Vinyl’s euphoria even further. A wolf whistle from Midnight resulted in her retreating into the changing room, switching her jeans and tee back on and all the while bearing a fierce blush.

Octavia was absolutely embarrassed to discover that she would have to show some stomach in her amethyst-coloured outfit, as the chestpiece for it didn’t entirely cover that bit. However, Midnight and Frédéric were capable of coaxing her to give it a shot. Stepping out of the changing room in her clothes a few minutes later, the two stallions, and even Vinyl were floored. The silver studs on both cloth and chestpiece glinted softly in the light. Her impressive hips and fair breasts were cocooned in the dress’s beauty and shape. The amethyst silk fabric clashed magnificently with her eyes. The silver headpiece rang with tranquility as she shook her head of any stray hairs, as a portion of her black mane hung somewhat sultrily over her right eye.

“Well?” she finally spoke up, not fully appeased by the baffled faces of her peers. “Don’t just sit there looking dumb.”

“Oh… my gosh,” breathed Vinyl. “You look… amazing!”

She beamed at her responses, blushing all the while. But… she still had one more approval to gain before she could feel even more confident about it. “Midnight? Frédéric? Questions, comments, concerns?”

“Octavia… that looks positively gorgeous on you,” hummed a partially-breathtaken Frédéric, chartreuse eyes exploring every inch of her figure. “It really does."

Midnight had snapped out of his reverie. He couldn’t help it, though. He was absolutely captivated by her. To call her stunning would not do this visual justice at all, although her presence did render them flabbergasted.  “You, eh…” Midnight swallowed the lump in his gullet, speaking up with a surprising hitch in his voice. “You look absolutely beautiful,” he finally choked out.

Octavia could feel her face slowly grow hotter from their words. She covered her burning cheeks with the section of dress that dangled over her shoulder. “Th… thank you, guys. I’m gonna… go change,” she mumbled, ducking back into the room and returning to her button-up shirt, black slacks, pink bow-tie, and severe blush.

The stallions were up next. Frédéric had been goose-stepped by Midnight into trying out the traditional wear, while the pianist remained adamant in his decision to don a generic suit and tie. Even Octavia didn’t approve of that notion.

“Surely it can’t be that bad,” she persuaded Frédéric, shuffling awkwardly on her hooves. “Besides, if me and Vinyl both looked smashing in our choices, surely you could do with something… exotic of your own.”

Gulping nervously, Frédéric nodded. “So, what did you have in mind?” he asked of Midnight, who was riffling through some racks of apparel.

“These.” He tossed at Frédéric a uniform of some sorts. It was a large white mass, but would have to be worn to be fully appreciated. Midnight scooted Frédéric into the changing room and awaited his return. Frédéric came back out, clad in long white pants and a long-sleeve robe whose hem descended to his knees. A sky blue vest sat cozily on the robe, and a soft felted skull cap of the same atmospheric azure rested on his sand-colored hair. 

“Hold on.” Midnight approached Frédéric, his hands reaching for the top button of the robe. “Leave this undone…” he mumbled, readjusting the vest and the collar of his robe. “There. That looks really nice on you, man.”

“You think so?” asked Frédéric, a little curious about the impression his new threads emanated..

“Oh, totally!” cheered Vinyl, voicing her approval. “You look really awesome in that thing.”

“I think you look quite handsome in it, to say the least,” Octavia anxiously admitted, stifling the searing sensation that threatened to seep into her face. Frédéric smiled a bit, finding it much more difficult than usual to make eye contact with her as his pulse hiked up mildly. Unbeknownst to him, so did hers.

“Well, Oily boy, you’re up,” said Frédéric tensely, pushing Midnight into the aisle to pick out his outfit. 

“Hey! Who’re you callin’ oily, punk?” He came back not a moment too soon, a small stack of clothes laden in his arms as he walked briskly over to the changing room and closed the curtain. Moments later, Midnight reemerged in his chosen attire, adorned in a pair of white pants and a white robe with a gold lining on the outer legs and on top of the arms. What was different was that at the top of the buttons was a strip of cloth that ended with a long tassel, the threads tied together intricately. He had on an ash-colored vest, but no felted skullcap. Instead, he had on a pair of silver hairbands, bejeweled with emeralds, at the base and near the end of his ponytail, as well as one near the end of his tail. “So? What’s the verdict, guys?”

“Smashing. Very smashing.” Frédéric stated.

“You look quite handsome, if I do say so myself,” Octavia chimed in. Midnight grinned anxiously, his efforts at chuckling away his nervousness and his blush bearing little fruit.

“It’s amazing on you,” breathed Vinyl. She recognized those hair accessories at once: they were the ones that Midnight had purchased for himself, back on his first day of his service to her and Octavia. She remembered that day all too well. It was the day she started to develop her crush for him. When she had fed him after Octavia and Frédéric had been awful to him.

I had a feeling he wasn’t gonna give them to his mom… they don’t match her eyes like they do his.

She sighed woefully. She had a feeling that Midnight didn’t really… reciprocate her feelings for him. She could understand: she didn’t come on too strong about it. Granted, she didn’t want to appear as some clingy tramp. She wasn’t petty, and she surely had standards, after all. But she grew weary of her incompetence, her lack of courage to make some sort of move. She was Vinyl Scratch, for the love of Celestia! She was tough, brave, foxy. If her walking onto the dance floor could turn several heads in lustful awe, she should certainly overcome such a trivial obstacle as confessing to somepony she crushed on.

“Th… thanks, Vi. I really appreciate it,” said Midnight genuinely. “I’m gonna browse around for outfits for the children.” He was off, speedily recollecting each of their sizes and measurements from memory.

She’d do it, before her window of opportunity closed on her.

She’d confess to Midnight. At least some time tomorrow.


~


Day six.

By mid-afternoon, the city folk had already completed their preparations for the festival. The banners were up, the town squares on the upper and lower halves of Jalalabuck were cleared. The citizens walked amongst themselves, doing last minute food shopping and congratulations on a job well done. They were all eager to return home and rest in their beds, long after filling their bellies with warm suppers.

Dusk had already fallen.

Midnight was going over his mental checklist in the backyard, making sure that all of the listed accomplishments had already been… well, accomplished. He dangled his legs above the smaller, four-foot diving board, hooves barely skimming the water beneath as he played with his butterfly knife. The metallic clinking of the blade and handles submersed him into concentration.

Vinyl saw him sitting outside through the screen door. She appeared distraught, the throbbing in her heart refusing to revert to normal as she grew fascinated by the way the lights of the pool reflected off of Midnight. I can’t bucking believe I’m second-guessing myself, Vinyl thought pitifully, her hooves glued to the spot.

She felt a nudge in her side and turned to see Nebula, the wizen mare clad in her pajamas. Nebula said something to Vinyl in Ponsi, but Vinyl was merely lost by the exotic tongue. She figured it was phrased interrogatively, but still, she knew not a lick of the ethnic language. “I’m sorry, what?” she said apologetically.

“She said, ‘Are you gonna admire the scenery, or are you gonna go talk to him?’” Star Hopper translated, fixing her nightgown. Vinyl grimaced slightly at Star with a smidgen of disdain, as she had been the one to issue that awkward situation between all of them by pointing out Midnight’s so-called love for Octavia.

Still, she appreciated their concerns, and chose to oblige them. She entered the backyard, and approached the Sarosian. Midnight seemed to be submerged in thought, as he didn’t notice her right away. She questioned that state of mind of his, as he was subconsciously flipping and fanning around a very sharp knife.

Her horn flared a soft azure corona, and she carefully removed the knife from his grip. “Huh, what?” Midnight said as Vinyl cast it at the base of the diving board. She climbed aboard, the wobbling of the board alerting Midnight to turn around and face her. “Oh. Hi, Vinyl,” he greeted, sitting crosslegged.

Vinyl sat down on her knees, hands on her thighs and hooves under her bottom, tail swishing in trepidation. “Hey, Midnight. How are you?”

“I’m… not doing too great, actually.” Midnight twiddled his thumbs in dismay, as though it would help ameliorate his dilemma. “I’m kinda nervous about the ritual dance, and I’m worrying on if I’ll just goof up a bit.”

“What? C’mon, you’re just getting last-minute jitters,” Vinyl said, reaching forward and grabbing Midnight’s hand, hoping that her feelings would be guised as compassion and empathy. “Trust me. Whenever I get crazy stage fright, I just… imagine doing a kick-ass job, ya know? I simply… envision it all being a success. I just take some deep breaths… and relax.” She highlighted her point by inhaling deeply, exhaling slowly after.

“Thank you once again.” Midnight repeated her actions to the dot. But after the exhale he could still feel Vinyl clutching his hand. He was feeling a little uncomfortable from the tension in the air. “What’s the matter? You okay?”

“Y-yeah,” she stuttered, swallowing air again. Come on… you can do this, Vinyl. “I, uh… I have something… important to tell you, Midnight.”

“You do?”

Vinyl nodded as she felt a knot developing in her gullet. She gulped it away, face searing an awful shade of red. Just… say the damn words! What are you waiting for!? “I… I, uh… I…” She sighed angrily, confounded on how three simple words could be this impossible to say. “I… I'm in love with you.” 

She couldn’t look directly at him. She was just ecstatic to relieve herself of a burden that had been plaguing her for a little less than a month. She fought every iota in her body to not gander at Midnight’s reaction, but her determination failed her. She looked up and saw…

Guilt. The stallion before her was looking down, ashamed. As though he had done something that he could never atone for. “How long?”

“Wha–?” Vinyl was cut off by Midnight’s reiteration of his question. “...About a month.” She could feel her heart going nuts, each beat reverberating in her ears and threatening to shatter her ribs. She was regretting every single moment of her choice. She was terrified of what the answer might be, and she didn’t want to be around for that. “You know, maybe I should–”

“I… I'm honored by this... really. I had no idea you felt that way, honestly,” weakly mumbled Midnight. He continued to gaze at Vinyl. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” 

“I was…” started Vinyl, pressing her index fingers anxiously. “I was totally freaked out. Just, scared outta my mind. I didn’t want to… buck up our friendship right away. I mean, I care about you… a lot.”

The silence that echoed was long. Uncomfortable. Painful. Both of them struggled to make eye contact, the sloshing pool water beneath them being the only sound in the vicinity. “That’s… quite an interesting reason. I care about you, too.”

“Do you… love me back?” Hope has temporarily swelled in Vinyl’s heart as she looked at the stallion she loved and beseeched him of his reciprocation. But the tortuous silence that Midnight could only create destroyed that hope and transformed it into emotional distraught. “Well? Do you?”

Midnight could only sit there in the hot seat, in no shape or form capable of responding to her in a manner that wouldn’t devastate Vinyl. But his silence was already doing massive damage. Vinyl clenched her fists in heartbreak. “Please… say something! Anything!” She could feel the back of her eyes burning, but she bit her lower lip, refusing to cry. Don’t. Don’t. Don’t.

“I’m sorry.” Midnight sighed, irritated by the response he had been giving her—or lack thereof. He honestly felt like he should have seen it earlier. He was a Recorder, for Luna’s sake. Why he never bothered to pay attention to her in the meanwhile, is a terrible anomaly in and of itself. He could hear Vinyl gasping weakly, as though she were fighting for air. “If it seems like I’m uninterested…it’s not because I’m disgusted by you, or I hate you. It’s because I have no idea why you would like me.” 

Vinyl gritted her teeth, battling the rivulets of saline that threatened to leak from her eyes. “Why do you say that?” she shakily asked.

“Because I am… already a terrible, terrible pony. I’m… in love with somepony else. Me saying yes to you without committing a hundred percent and doing it all for the sake of nookie would not be fair to you in the slightest, and would leave me unable to live with myself if I hurt you. There are several thousand stallions out there millions of times better than me. And they’d be willing to bend over backwards for an exceedingly fantastic mare like you.”

Vinyl smiled weakly, wiping her tears with the sleeves of her shirt. “Well, I’m proud of the fact that you’re honest to me.” She hiccuped slightly from her vain efforts to cease her crying. “And I know very well who you’re in love with.”

“I figured…” Midnight sighed again in dismay. “Listen, I really am sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Vinyl shook her head, sniffling a bit. “Nopony can really pick and choose who they fall in love with. It’s all up to fate.” She sidled closer to him.

“...I, er, remember one guy that you used to club around with a lot and do gigs and collabs with. Neon Lights, was it?”

“Yeah.” A bit of a feeble smile returned to Vinyl’s lips. “You know him?”

“I’ve heard a fair deal of his songs. Ran into him on a Counter-Buck: Equestrian Offensive server. Pretty cool pony, really. I told him I knew you, and we just had a nice conversation that went off from there.”

“Really?”

“Totally. He, uh, told me that he had a bit of a crush on you, to be honest. He wants to get to know you better, and not just behind a turntable with the bass blowing out your ears.”

“Hey, if we don’t blow out your ears, we’re not doing our jobs,” she joked. She grinned as Midnight had to stifle a snigger. While she felt sore that Midnight was not only uninterested in a relationship with her, but also prescribing somepony like Neon Lights to her, she was at least mildly appeased by how Midnight was assisting her in her time of need. Even if he had just broke her heart. “And I’ll… probably give him a call, see if we can’t get dinner, or coffee, or something. Thanks for, uh… helping me feel better.”

“Glad I could be of assistance.”

“I’m, uh, gonna hug you now.”

“Huh? Oh, go ahead. It’s the least you deserve.” Vinyl giggled at the sentiment as she gingerly wrapped her arms around Midnight, pulling the Sarosian into a hug. He was reluctant in returning the action, but when he did, he could slowly start to unwind. The stress and the fear of what had happened today and what will happen tomorrow was simply being washed away. “Feel better?”

“Yes… totally better than before.” She pulled away, gave Midnight a small kiss on the cheek, and got up to leave, the diving board wobbling precariously beneath her. She dismounted, clutching the area of her chest where her heart resided. Its pangs of desire still lingered, yet not as strongly as before. “By the way… I know you’re gonna do just great.”

Midnight smiled, watching that wonderful woman leave the backyard and enter the house. He raised a hand to the cheek that Vinyl’s lips had so tenderly pecked, his face burning. He felt awful that he had done that to her. But… it was how he felt. He would rather hurt someone with a truth than comfort someone with a lie.




~End of Chapter XVII~