Filly Friends

by thehalfelf

Finale

Finale

The backstage hallway of Night-Glo was exactly as I remembered it from my dreams and memories. I hadn’t been back here since the night Vinyl kissed me. Not that I had expected a nondescript concrete hallway to change, but you never know. Vinyl and I were the ones who changed. This time, I was the one about to take the stage and she was going to be sitting and waiting.

“Five minutes,” a stagehand called from the other end of the hallway before retreating to finish preparations.

Vinyl looked at me, then to the stairs leading to the stage. “It’s been awhile since we were back here together.”

“I was just thinking the same thing. It’s not an easy day to forget,” I replied.

She looked at me and smiled, then did a double take. “You… you mean that in a good way, right? Right…?”

I took a deep breath and a seat on the stairs leading to the stage. I was still keyed up from my argument with Hazelblossom, on edge from the looming concert, and getting tired of lying to myself and the ponies around me. “Honestly I wasn’t so sure. You remember I was really confused when you kissed me the first time?”

Vinyl nodded, dumbfounded and visibly confused.

“Even after my talk with Aunt Rosin, it was hard for me to get a grasp on how I felt. It’s not that I didn’t care for you, more that you were so… so…” I spun a hoof in the air, digging for a word.

“Vinyl-y?” she supplied.

“I was going to say you are much more invested in… in us than I,” I finished. “Like, you worry so much about me, and put a bunch of effort into our trip in Las Pegasus, and you went through all this effort to attempt to convince me to make a step in my own career. I just felt… inadequate.”

She sat down on the stairs next to me. “Tavi, that’s ridiculous. I never once thought you didn’t care, you just show it differently.”

“That’s my whole point. I can’t really explain when I figured it out, but it all kind of clicked when I saw you talking with Hazelblossom earlier.” I leaned against her, enjoying the warmth in the chilly back hallway. “I think I have it figured out, now. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

The stagehand poked his head back in. “Two minutes, Miss Philharmonica.”

“Apology accepted,” Vinyl said. “You’re gonna kill this show, Tavi.”

“I hope so.”

Vinyl stood and kissed me once, gently. “I gotta get to my seat. See you soon.”

I watched her walk back towards the club floor. Even after she’d turned from sight I kept watching until I heard the clatter of the door shutting. This was always the worst time for me and one of the reasons I stopped performing by myself. I knew the second I stepped out on stage and started playing my nerves would vanish and I would feel okay. All I had to do was play this one concert and then…

I could figure the rest out tomorrow.

“I’ve got this,” I whispered to myself. “I’ve got this.”

“I believe in you, miss,” one of the stagehands said. An announcement from the club floor echoed back into our little hallway. “We’re ready for you.”

“Thank you.” I took a deep breath and turned around to face the stage. Three short, creaky steps separated me from my instrument. Night-Glo didn’t have a curtain or anything of the sort, so the minute I stepped over the last step I was visible to the crowd. Around one hundred ponies had crammed into the club, most sitting in folding chairs, but some were standing around the edges of the room as well, and it looked like Midnight Oil had opened the VIP balcony to some as well.

Mother waved slightly from the front row. Both she and Father were smiling at me, just barely visible in the light cast towards me from the spotlights. Vinyl was there as well; she mouthed something at me I couldn’t really understand, but took to be encouragement.

My cello stood waiting for me on a small stand in the middle of the stage. It stood proudly, gleaming, next to a stool that was honestly there more for show. I almost didn’t want to touch it, knowing exactly how long I spent polishing it the night before. I walked in measured steps to the middle of the stage and rose gracefully to my hind hooves. Quickly, so I wouldn’t fall over, I pulled the cello from it’s cradle and against my body. It took a few seconds to get the balance right so I could grab my bow.

I took a deep breath and held it to clear my mind. My left hoof found the string and fret for the first note; my right set my bow on the string. I pulled, coaxing the first note of the night from my instrument, and everything fell away. Given the short time I had to prepare, I had to pick simpler songs that I knew well from Mother’s collection.

The first song was one I knew very well: the first song I saw Mother perform when I was a filly. It took me back to when I was young, watching Mother practice in the early afternoons. The song was the first I’d wanted to learn after having my cutie mark dropped on me. Even before my hoof could really reach around the neck of the cello I was trying. It was the first I’d played, the first I mastered, and still something I played often to warm up. Compared to even the normal pieces I knew, it was neither technical or complex, but I found the soothing song to be the good start to almost anything.

Music flowed from my instrument and I, blanketing the club floor in rich sounds. The original plan called for me to stop for a few beats to readjust for the next piece, a much more upbeat and fast-paced song. In the heat of the moment I saw a way to bridge the two pieces together. Acting on impulse, I pulled the last few notes in quick succession, then skipped the bow across the next few notes of the first part of the next song. It created an interesting effect, almost like my cello was attempting to play two different songs at the same time.

Mother smiled at me and shook her head teasingly, knowing immediately what I did. It was technically a mistake, one I used to make a lot when I was first learning how to properly apply pressure with the bow. I smiled back at her and continued playing, quickly losing myself once again. I’d worried that playing by myself would bring back some of the stage fright Aunt Rosin had used against me the other night, but so far that didn’t seem to be the case. In a lot of ways it was liberating; I only had to focus on myself and my movements, not the symphony around me as a whole.

Much to my surprise, the second piece went just as smoothly as the first. It was a little more technical and tight, but if I made any mistakes they were minor enough that even I didn’t notice them. The trouble came during the transition to the third song I’d selected, about halfway through what I’d decided to perform. I wanted to mix the two songs together, as I had with the first and second, but it didn’t flow together nearly as smoothly as I wanted. It wasn’t a major mistake, I honestly doubt anypony else noticed, but I did.

Once I’d made and acknowledged the first mistake, that seemed to be all I could notice. Everything sounded fine, the crowd watching didn’t seem to have any objection to my playing, but all I could notice were technical missteps. The fretting off by a fraction of an inch on this note, a fuzzy transition between these two notes, the small mistakes started to pile up.

Externally I kept my cool, but internally I was berating myself. This is exactly what I was worried about, this was why I wasn’t going to audition for Father’s Orchestra. Even if most of the ponies in the audience couldn’t hear my mistakes, I could. Mother probably could as well, and ponies of the caliber that would be working for Father would be able to as well.

I cast about for a solution or at least something I could focus on to stop my own spiral. My gaze landed on Vinyl. I doubt she could tell that I was troubled, but she smiled and waved slightly, though she kept her hoof low enough that I doubt anypony else saw it. I was reminded of years worth of afternoons spent in the practice room, both of us toying around with our respective instruments and styles. It was fun, and memories I drew fondly upon any time I practiced in a group. Seeking that feeling again was why I auditioned for my school’s orchestra right after Vinyl left.

Unlike most of my recent decisions, that one hadn’t required consulting Symphonia, or Aunt Rosin. It was just something I knew I had to do, just like I had agreed to play here, tonight, with nothing more than token resistance. Some part of me knew that my life in orchestra would be done in less than a year when I graduated. There was no guarantee I’d get another recommendation or anything to my tastes outside college.

Lost in thought, I barely even noticed the swap from the third song to the fourth, or the forth to the fifth. I was lost to the music and lost to the feeling of weight lifting from my shoulders. Maybe eventually I’d be able to face more of my troubles head on, like Vinyl, though I wasn’t sure my head was hard enough to manage it.

I finished the last piece with a flourish and took a bow. Normally after a classical concert, the applause was perfunctory and rather tame. Standing ovations were common, but not nearly of the length or loudness expected from any sort of other performance I’d ever been to. Naturally I was expecting something similar tonight, but I forgot two things:

One: we were in a nightclub.

Two: Vinyl was here.

As I stood half bent over, using my cello for support, I recognized Vinyl whooping from the front row of the seats. Before I could straighten up and shush her, another pony joined in, then a third. I raised my head enough to recognize several of the club’s regulars joining in. To mine and Mother’s surprise, Father joined in as well. I took another deep bow then, after stowing my cello back on the stand to be collected later, hopped down to the dance floor.

Vinyl jumped forward and hugged me as soon as my hooves touched the ground. “I knew you’d kill it.”

“Yeah, I know you did. I think it went alright,” I responded, hugging her back. Mother smiled at me over Vinyl’s back, then turned to try and deal with Father. “So, where is the after party?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Vinyl said, feigning ignorance. “Why would you think I had something like that planned?”

I didn’t grace her with an answer, simply raised an eyebrow.

It didn’t take long for Vinyl to cave. “Boss man is gonna convert back to normal after we leave. I was gonna send your cello back with Melody and have us swing back around.”

“Alright, but I can’t stay up too late. I need to practice for my audition starting tomorrow.”

Author's Note:

A/N to follow

Comments

[Noobblue]

Yay.

[Hobbestc]

Woot!

[Dusty Old Qrow]

An amazing piece of work. Loved it all the way through.

[Halsenbert]

I really love this fic. Though, the fact you leave the end open made me want to read more of it.

[Ice Star]

A lovely romp all the way through. Seeing these two grow together, apart, and back together again was done with such care. In a sea of fluffy shipfics, a meaningful romance like this stood out.

There's still no A/N though. Hrm.