“I, for one, still can’t believe you ate all that,” Octave commented. By now, he and Record had already left The Singing Cat, their stomachs full of the desserts they had consumed. The sky was now bright orange, lighting up the drifting clouds with a soft red glow. The sun hovered near the horizon as Solaris slowly lowered it, only to give way to Artemis’ shining moon, the face of which was just starting to become visible over the hills to East. As the couple walked on aimlessly, streetlights began to flicker to life.
“What can I say?” Record shrugged with a satisfied smile, “They got really good cheesecake over there.”
“Along with the pizza from dinner, the soda, and let’s not forget that cup of coffee big enough for somepony to swim in.”
Record laughed, “Oh, come on Octie, I didn’t down the whole thing.”
Octave shook his head, “Even so, I think you’ve probably eaten more in the past few hours then I have ever seen you eat at school for a week. Including breakfast!”
“So? I like to eat. Who doesn’t?”
“Well…” Octave, try as he might, couldn’t think of an argument to that. He decided to shift the conversation’s gears a little, “A change in subject, then. Since your friend Chisel now knows about us, what do you think the school’s going to say, come Monday?”
“Why should you care?” Record asked. “They might say that we just went out.”
“But don’t you see a problem with that? I mean, you saw Chisel’s reaction to us. What’s to keep a good chunk of the school from reacting the same way as he did, if not worse? I mean, my secret is officially out now, and I’m the one who dragged you into this. Don’t you think that we might be in danger from here on out?”
“What are ya talkin’ about?” Record shook his head. By now, the couple had stopped at a stone guardrail that overlooked the landscape below the mountain, West, towards the setting sun. “It’s not maredieval times. Gay ponies aren’t lynched anymore or hunted down. I mean, the Prince himself made it legal not only for ponies like you to get hitched but even put in place a bill of rights too. So why are you worried that the school is gonna find out?”
Octave rolled his eyes, “Record, has it ever occurred to you that just because a group has legal rights, it doesn't mean that everypony would change their minds overnight? I’ve learned from school – no matter how tolerant a place might be, there will always be ponies that would hold a grudge towards you – simply because you’re not them. Hate crimes still exist in Equestria. Not just towards ponies like myself, but those from different races like zebras or gryphons.” The cellist sighed as he leaned up against the wall. “In truth, what I’m really afraid now is for either of us ending up as victims, all because of me.”
“Okay, stop right there.” Record said sternly, “Dude, I am not going to let anypony hurt ya. And don’t you dare think that I wouldn't...” The DJ trailed off suddenly. This caught the cellist completely by surprise.
“You wouldn't, what?”
“It’s…” Record said, turning eyes away from Octave, looking towards the sunset. In the light of the setting sun, Octave could see that his best friend was blushing. “It’s nothing.”
“Yes, because it certainly sounds like nothing.” Octave said sarcastically, but Record didn't respond. “Look, you said that I should be honest while we’re on this date. So I think that you ought to have that chance as well. I promise you, no matter what you say to me, I don't think any differently of you.”
“Eh… fine,” Record mumbled, “Just don’t think that I’m weird or anything.” Octave agreed, “Look, before your dad sent me that letter, telling me that you’re gay and that you secretly liked me, I never thought I’d go out with a dude. I just wanted a marefriend, like everypony else. Trying to fit in, ya know? I try to find a nice mare, ask her out, and date for a little before either of us dumps the other. For a while, I thought if something is wrong with me. I couldn’t figure out what I was doing wrong that I couldn't hold down a relationship and all. Then I read the letter… to tell ya the truth, brony, at first I wanted to turn the offer down.”
“What? Why?”
“Because I couldn't see myself dating dudes… at first, that is. After a while, I started to have… weird thoughts about ya. The thing is, I'd never thought about any other guy that way before. But with you… I don’t know, it just seemed… right. Octave, I really do want to see ya happy. I do want to make ya laugh, and not to be afraid of anythin’. I-I know this is weird coming from a guy like me, the idea of dating ya, even if it’s just this once, makes sense ta me.”
For a long time, even after the sun had set and the moon was lifted above the horizon, Octave didn't know how to respond. On the one hoof, this was something that he’d day-dreamed about at times, his best friend admitting that he has feelings for him. Yet, on the other hoof, it brought up a question, something which he asked aloud: “Record, where do we go from here? I mean, do you still want to be my best friend or… what?”
Record sighed, “I don’t know dude. I really don’t want to lose ya over this.”
“Why would you lose me? If anything, you agreeing to be my date is, perhaps, the kindest thing you've ever done for me. For that, I’ll be eternally grateful because of you.” Octave paused for a moment before asking, “Record, I know I normally don’t ask this, but,” he opened his forelegs out. “…may I?”
With a nod and a smile, Record gave his best friend permission to hug him. After not too long, he wrapped his hooves around the cellist and hugged him back.
Breaking the embrace, Octave asked the question that had been growing in his mind from the start of the date. “By the way, what did you bring your bag for?”
“Oh! That’s right! I nearly forgot!” Record’s horn lit up, the red glow surrounding the saddlebags before lifting off of him. He opened it up and levitated out a pair of headphones. “Here, put these on,” he said.
“Why?” Octave questioned.
“Just put them on, I've made you something.”
The cellist sighed, “Record, you know what my opinions are towards techno music-”
“Dude, trust me,” the DJ gave Octave his characteristic cocky smile, offering the headphones to him. “I promise you’ll like it.”
“Fine,” the gray earth pony groaned, taking the headphones into his hooves and placing them over his ears. “Just don’t play too loud.”
“Got it,” Record nodded as he hooked the cord into a small metal box, a device Octave had seen him using often, that the DJ played his music from. After adjusting the volume and choosing out the right song, the unicorn pressed play. At first, the very first thing that Octave heard was a beat, which quickly followed with an electric pizzicato that echoed in his ears. The melody was unfamiliar for a few seconds until he recognized what it was.
“Is this Buch?” Octave asked. The unicorn nodded silently. Indeed, the cellist recognized what that electronic orchestra was playing through its beats of Tonic and Dominant. It was J. S. Buch’s Orchestral Suite No. 2, Menuet and Badinerie. Octave had, of course, played the Braeque* masterpiece before. He knew about the difficult melody of the solo flute, now being played by what sounded like an electrical harpsichord. The sound was hauntingly beautiful, despite its artificial origins. But what amazed him most about the piece, was that Record hadn’t changed a single note of it. True, there were the beats, the modern background noise he would hear almost everywhere he went. Yet at the same time, the beats and electronic sounds somehow complimented the genius of Buch. If anything, the piece sounded more alive than it ever had to Octave.
When the music was over, and Record stopped the next track from playing, the unicorn asked, “Well, how was it?”
Octave slowly took off the headphones and gave it back to his date. “Record,” he said, looking at him in the eye. “You are wrong on one thing tonight.”
“W-What?” the DJ asked, taken completely aback.
“You, sir, do in fact have a future. If you can make music like that, where you don’t chop up the music from what’s already perfect, but instead use it to your advantage, then I say you will never be forgotten.”
“Ya mean it?” Record asked, surprise evident in his wide eyes.
Octave nodded with a smile on his face. “I’m rather surprised actually, you made that… for me?”
“Well, I was going to give it to ya on your birthday. But when this came up… I just, you know, had ta finish it.” The unicorn said, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Why… I must say, Record; I’m rather flattered that you've made that for me... thank you.”
“Yeah, yeah,” the DJ nodded. “So, what do ya wanna do now? You ready ta go home?”
Octave shook his head, “Not quite yet. Why don’t we take a little walk, first?”
Record smiled, “Eh… why not?”