Evening had fallen over Manehattan. In the upscale part of town, an after-party was being held for participants and guests of the Equestrian Music Awards. The rich and famous gathered in one of the top hotels in Manehattan, the penthouse floor booming with activity as many ponies chattered between sips of wine and champagne. All kept to their own cliques, while in the background, a string quartet played classical music for the few who were paying attention.

Out on the patio, a well-dressed grey earth pony with a long black mane and tail kept to herself. She wanted nothing more than silence. She stood with her forelegs hanging over the low stone wall, with the lights of Manehattan and a glass of wine for company.

“Four years in Manehattan Musical Conservatory, multiple performances with well-known symphonies, and even playing at the Grand Galloping Gala have finally gotten me... here.” Octavia sighed, and gulped down the rest of her glass of wine. “Yet another party pandering to the rich and snobby.” She stared at her freshly-emptied glass for a few moments, then reached for her bottle to refill it.

“What’s a mare like you doing out here by herself?”

Interrupted, Octavia glanced aside to see a unicorn with a white coat and an electric-blue mane had taken a seat next to her, leaning her back up against the wall and sporting only purple sunglasses and an open white jacket. The unicorn pulled out a cigarette and lit it with a brief magical spark.

“Enjoying my privacy.” Octavia knew who the pony was - yet another celebrity who had done nothing to earn her status, but still outshone her own meager fame by far.

“Ah, same here.” The mare looked up at Octavia, flashing her a smile.

Octavia looked back out at the lights of the city. Why had she bothered coming? She knew she wasn’t going to win anything. The conversations she’d overheard were trivial, the violin player in the string quartet was too sharp, and the smoke from that unicorn’s cigarette wasn’t helping her growing headache. Would yet another night alone in her apartment really have been so bad?

“You know,” she groaned, “the point of privacy is that you’re enjoying it alone.”

“Yeah, I know. But why enjoy it alone when you can enjoy it with somebody?”

Octavia rolled her eyes. “If that’s the case, why don’t you enjoy yourself in there with all the other ponies? More must be better, right?”

“Nah, I can’t smoke in there. It’d set off the fire alarm. And besides, everyone in there sucks. They’re stuffy and boring. Actually...” A smile grew on the unicorn’s face. “Maybe I should go smoke in there. It would liven things up, at least.”

Octavia found herself giggling despite everything. “So, you must be...” She tried to recall the name she’d kept seeing on magazine covers at the grocery store lately. “DJ PON-3?”

“Vinyl Scratch,” she replied, extending her hoof to Octavia, who refused to return the gesture.

“Didn’t you win album of the year?”

“Yeah.” Vinyl let her hoof fall, seeming to realize the other mare wasn’t in a mood to shake. “I guess I’m a star now.”

“Indeed.” Octavia poured another glass of wine.

“So, what do you do?”

“I play cello for” – Octavia paused – “well, no one, actually. I fill in for groups that need a cellist while they look for full-time band members.”

“Cello? Isn’t that like an oversized violin?” Vinyl grinned.

“Ah, no, a cello is–”

“I mean, why do they make them so large? Couldn’t they make them a bit smaller so you wouldn’t have to stand up to play it? Speaking of, how do you even stand up for so long?”

Octavia was getting annoyed with the mare’s questions, not just because of how stupid they were, but also how often she heard them.

“Heh, sorry. I’m just kidding.” Vinyl got up and crushed out her cigarette.

“So, how did you make album of the year? I heard pressing play on a record player is quite the challenge,” Octavia snarked.

“Yeah, it was really hard deciding when to press it.”

They both remained silent, trying to hold in their laughter. They couldn't for long, and soon they were both laughing and smiling at each other.

“Oh, and I’m sorry also.” Octavia finally offered her hoof to Vinyl. “My name is Octavia, Octavia Melody.”

Vinyl clung to Octavia tightly. Octavia remained silent, struggling to understand. What could she say?

“Vinyl…” She wrapped her forelegs around Vinyl, who was still shuddering.

“It’s okay.” She rubbed his back, trying to calm him down. “Please…”

“I’m sorry.” Vinyl said, sniffling. As he started to regain his composure, his death-grip on Octavia’s shoulders loosened and he started to breathe more easily.

“No, it’s fine.” Octavia ran a hoof through Vinyl’s mane tenderly. She had never seen him like this.

“Tavi, are you angry?” He pulled back to look at her, but didn’t let go.

“No,” Octavia said, “but if you are not a mare, what are you?”

“A stallion. I think... I am a stallion.”

Octavia’s concerned expression shifted to one of worry and confusion. Hearing the word stallion was a bit of a shock to her. “How long have you known?”

“Nearly a year,” Vinyl said as Octavia remained silent. Though at first they had been a dull buzz, her nagging questions, doubts, worries, and fears had built up to a roar.

”I need some time to myself.” She pushed Vinyl back and got up off the sofa.

“Tavi–”

“Vinyl, please, just – let me just gather my thoughts.” Octavia dashed into the spare bedroom and slammed the door.

Vinyl fell onto his back.

“Damn it.”

The spare bedroom of their apartment was repurposed as a music studio. A majority of the room was dedicated to Vinyl, as he used the space to store crates of records, cassettes, and stacks of audio production equipment. In spite of the chaos that was Vinyl’s section of the room, a small corner was kept clean, with a luxurious rug covering the tacky shag carpeting. A large instrument case rested against the wall, holding Octavia’s most prized possession: her cello.

Octavia slammed the door behind her and fell onto her haunches, leaned her back against the door, and began to cry. Too many conflicting thoughts rushed through her mind.

How did she not know? Was she not paying enough attention? How could she not notice something that important about her- him? Oh Goddess, and they were supposed to be getting married!

Instead of focusing on her thoughts, she forced herself onto her feet and cleared the tears out of her eyes, walking to her corner of the room. She opened her cello’s case, taking the instrument and bow from their resting place inside. She stood up on her hind legs and began to warm up, playing a few long, somber notes that soon grew into a melody. The music gradually drowned out her conflicting thoughts and feelings as she played.

Vinyl was lying on his back, listening to Octavia play her cello in the next room. Hearing her play kept his mind on her. He’d finally let out his secret, and things were going to be... different. At least she hadn’t said she was going to leave him, but he couldn’t stand not knowing what was going to happen. Whenever he managed to force himself to not worry about his relationship, the only thing he could think about was what to do next.

“Where do I even begin? Do I go to a doctor? See a therapist? Ask the pharmacist for over the counter medication? Go to the insane asylum?” He sighed, staring at the ceiling. “I guess I’ll talk to Derpy about it…”

Vinyl had promised to tell her how it went, after all. He got up from the sofa and walked over to the kitchen, picked up the phone hung on the kitchen wall, and punched in Derpy’s number. After a few rings, he was redirected to her answering machine.

“Hello, this is Derpy. If this call is work-related, please call my work telephone. Otherwise, please leave a message after the beep.”

BEEP

“Hey, Derpy. It’s Vinyl…” He hesitated, fiddling with the phone’s cord. “I told her. I’ll call you later.” He hung up and went back to the living room, grabbing the pack of cigarettes he’d left on the table. He opened the glass door to the outdoor patio, leaving the door open so he could continue listening to Octavia play. Walking to the edge, he stood and rested his forelegs on the surrounding brick wall. He pulled out a cigarette and lit up, hoping for a moment’s relief. While he was only a casual listener of classical music, he appreciated the sound that only his fiancée could produce. He’d counted on the soothing melodies and rush of nicotine to take the edge off, but if anything, they only made it harder to stay calm. Each note built toward an impending crescendo, each drag urging on his eventual doom.

After crushing out his first cigarette on the brick and flicking it down to the street below, he took another and lit up again. Telling Octavia was supposed to be a release, but the tension was worse than it had ever been. While he waited for her, all he could do was smoke to keep his nerves in check.

“Vinyl...” Turning around, he saw Octavia leaning against the doorframe. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“I was worried you wouldn’t like me.” Vinyl looked at the ground. “The mare you proposed to those few months ago was never a mare and…” He paused. “I lied.”

"I did say I like you because you are a mare like I have never met before.” She walked to Vinyl, cradling his face in her hooves and looking into his eyes. “But I like you for you who are, not because you are a mare.” She pressed her lips to Vinyl’s, giving him a gentle kiss.

“I love you, Vinyl Scratch, mare or not.” Octavia smiled.

“I love you too, Octavia.” He returned her smile.

“However...” She looked to the side. “It’s going to take me time to adjust.”

“I understand,” Vinyl wrapped himself around Octavia as she did the same, each holding on to the other as they allowed time to pass by.

Vinyl was sitting on the sofa in the living room, while Octavia was in the kitchen going through materials for dinner that evening.

“So, where do we go from here?” Octavia said, shuffling through a cabinet.

“I have no idea, honestly,” Vinyl sighed.

“Do you feel like heading out?” Octavia said, poking her head out of the kitchen.

“I think some fresh air would help, yeah.” Vinyl groaned, stretching as he got up from the sofa.

“One minute then,” Octavia walked over to the kitchen telephone and picked it up, punching in a number she waited for the receiver to pick up. “Hello Vidala, It’s Octavia.” She paused. “No, my mane is fine. It’s for my fiancé; he needs a bit of a touch-up and you are the first pony I would ask about this sort of thing.” She paused again. “You’re free right now?” Octavia looked over at Vinyl, smiling. “We’ll be there in twenty minutes.” Octavia hung up and walked over to Vinyl.

“So… where are you taking me?”

“I am taking you to my mane stylist. We don’t exactly know what to do next, and I think this is a good start.”

“Fair enough.” Vinyl walked to the master bedroom. “Let me get dressed before we go.”

“All right.” Octavia waited for Vinyl in the living room, wondering what he meant by dressed. She didn’t have to wait long, as Vinyl soon returned from the bedroom with his favorite hoodie, this time with his mane tucked into the back of the jacket rather than hanging down by his face.

“You look good.” Octavia was impressed how easily Vinyl could change his look, even if he had always dressed a bit more masculine.

“Thanks.”

Octavia and Vinyl emerged from the apartment building into the streets of Manehattan. Without his headphones, Vinyl’s walk was not as pleasant as usual. For the first time in a long while, the general din of the streets invaded his ears: taxis rushing past, snippets of overheard conversation, and ponies trying to yell to each other over it all. With Octavia at his side, however, he didn’t mind all the noise as much. Side by side, they walked toward the salon.

“So, where is this place?” Vinyl said, getting out yet another cigarette.

“Just a few blocks.” Octavia wrinkled her nose and looked at Vinyl with worry in her brow. “Vinyl, how many of those have you had today?”

“Um… not enough?” He lit up, continuing his regular smoking routine.

“I thought you were going to quit this year. For me.” Octavia kept a short distance between herself and Vinyl, staying clear of the noxious cloud that followed each of his puffs.

“Look.” Vinyl sighed. “I’m trying, but that tour was a major setback next to…” He stopped mid-sentence.

“Coming out?” Octavia finished.

“Yeah, that.” He looked at Octavia. “I know this is sudden, and I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Octavia said, trying to sound reassuring. “I just wish I’d known earlier. Perhaps things may have been easier this summer.”

“Maybe; it’s hard to say. It might have made things easier for us, but I’d still be keeping a secret from the public: that I am together with a mare, and one who is also a classical musician. Not to mention I’d still be keeping the fact that I identify as a stallion secret from my record label.”

“Does Derpy know?”

“Yeah.” Vinyl paused for a few seconds, taking in his cigarette. “I’ve been spending as much time with her as with you lately, thanks to my tour schedule. While she is a business pony first, she’s been my friend since high school. She wants what’s best for me, but at the same time has said coming out publicly could ruin my career.” Vinyl took one last hit of his cigarette, then tossed it onto the pavement. “I’ll try and make that my last one of the day.”

Octavia smiled.

After a few minutes, they finally stood in front of the salon. On the outside, it was an old brick building with two large windows displaying the inside of the shop. Stepping inside, the two were met with a minimal theme; a majority of the objects within the shop were coated in white with black and transparent accents.

A pink earth mare with a two-tone pink mane immediately noticed the two walk in. “Good to see you, Octavia.”

“Hello, Vidala. Sorry for coming to you on such short notice.”

“No worries.” She looked over at Vinyl. “Is this your fiancée?”

“Yes, this is my–” Octavia stopped herself from saying ‘future wife.’ “This is Vinyl.”

Vinyl waved. “Yo.”

“Well, you aren’t as formal as your fiancée.” Vidala laughed. “I always figured she’d end up with someone more prim, proper, sophisticated… you know, no fun. Just like her.”

“Hey!” Octavia protested.

“This way please,” Vidala trilled, giving Octavia a wink and guiding the two to one of her stations. The salon itself felt strangely empty, as the three of them were the only ponies present. Vinyl sat in the hairdresser's chair as Vidala started looking over his mane.

“Well, I didn’t expect this.” The pink mare seemed fascinated by Vinyl’s hair, and ran one of her hooves through it. “Enchanted mane dye?”

“Um…” Vinyl was a bit surprised that she was petting his mane rather than just picking up a pair of scissors – much less in front of his fiancée.

“Yeah. Did it back when I was in high school.”

“You certainly have given it good care.” She pulled away and grabbed a cover to put over Vinyl. “So, what do you want me to do?”

Vinyl honestly wasn’t sure. As if sensing his hesitation, Octavia stepped in for him. “Something masculine. I want you to give her–” she quickly corrected herself “–him, I want you to give him a more masculine style.”

Vinyl was surprised to hear Octavia referring to him by his preferred pronouns already. “I think it’d be cool if we just shorten the length, but keep some of my spikes.”

Vidala smirked. “Spikes, is it? What are you, some kind of punk singer?”

“Not exactly, I produce electronic music and tend to DJ in large venues.”

“A unicorn with an electric blue mane that specializes in electronic music.” Vidala was still going through Vinyl’s hair. “You remind me a bit of a popular celebrity. DJ PON-3, perhaps?”

“No, I’m sure that–”

“Also, you have her cutie mark,” Vidala said, cutting Vinyl off and giving him a knowing nod.

“Oh… yeah.” Vinyl reflexively tried to cover up his cutie mark with his tail, though he knew it wouldn’t do any good. Vidala had already recognized him.

“However, I can tell you’re rather different from that mare on stage.” Vidala pulled the rest of Vinyl’s mane from underneath his jacket. “So, Octavia, you didn’t tell me he was like–”

“You?” Octavia interrupted.

“Me?” Vinyl asked.

“Yes.” Vidala grabbed a pair of scissors. “I usually keep this secret from my customers, but Octavia knew me back when I was a young colt.”

Grabbing a spray bottle, she pressed the handle a few times to wet down Vinyl’s mane, making it easier to manage. “She was one of the few to remain my friend after I came back to school as Vidala.” Putting the bottle away, she pulled out a comb and brushed his messy mane. “Plus, no other stylist knows how to take care of her mane properly.”

Vinyl couldn’t respond. There are other ponies like me, he thought. I’m not the only one.

“I’ll leave you two alone.” Octavia shuffled to the entrance of the shop and sat on one of chairs, leafing through the magazines left out for waiting customers.

Vidala pulled out a pair of scissors and gave them a few midair test snips, now keeping a more minimal conversation with Vinyl. “Octavia didn’t tell me much about you, especially you being a big star and all.” Pausing, she cut off a lock of Vinyl’s mane. “But I can tell she definitely found somepony worth sticking with.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Just look at how she’s been looking at you ever since you two came in. Devoted, protective, almost motherly - but not in a weird way,” she added, glancing at Octavia. “She cares about you.”

Vinyl kept his eyes closed while Vidala did her work. This was the first time in a while he’d had his mane done by another stylist. The label had assigned him a “presentation consultant,” whom he met with before his shows, but she would do nothing more than maintain the same style to ‘preserve his artistic image.’

Vidala stopped and inspected her work, turning Vinyl around to face the mirror. Vinyl opened his eyes and blinked a few times when he saw himself.

“What do you think?” Vidala asked, passing Vinyl his glasses.

Putting them on, Vinyl turned his head in a few directions, taking a good look over his new style. It was shorter than before, but his right side still kept its longer length and maintained his signature spikes along the sides and bangs.

Vinyl stared at himself in the mirror, brushing a hoof through his short hair. After a couple of seconds, he could only manage a half-whispered "Wow."

“Wow, indeed.” Octavia walked up next to him and examined his new mane. “You really know how to work your craft, Vidala.”

“It’s nothing.” She shrugged, taking the cover off of Vinyl.

Vinyl smiled. “I like it. I like it a lot.” He rose from the chair. “How much do we owe you?”

“Fifty bits.”

“Fifty!?” Vinyl yelled. “For a manecut?”

“You should see how much Octavia spends here every month.” Vidala smirked.

Glaring at Octavia, Vinyl grabbed his wallet and pulled out a few bills. “I do appreciate it. Thank you.”

Vidala nodded while counting the money for her work. “You're welcome. Come back if you need anything in the future.” She turned and smiled at Octavia. “And I hope to see you later this month. Yes?”

Octavia nodded. “Of course.”

“See you soon, then. It was good meeting you. Vinyl.” Vidala walked over to the door and opened it for Vinyl and Octavia. They left the shop and headed back to their apartment.

The sun was beginning to set when Vinyl and Octavia returned to their apartment. Upon entering, Octavia went to the kitchen. “I’ll start dinner. Care to help, Vinyl?” she said, setting up the items she’d chosen earlier.

“Sure,” Vinyl said, walking over to the bedroom. “Just let me put my jacket away.” Midway through taking his hoodie off, he heard the doorbell ring, followed by a yell from Octavia.

“Vinyl! Are we expecting guests?” Vinyl tossed the hoodie on the floor and walked out of the bedroom.

“Not really,” he called back. "I’ll get it.”

Vinyl opened the door. Out in the hall was Derpy, with a young filly trying to hide in her tail. Derpy’s eyes widened and her jaw dropped as soon as she saw him.

“Vinyl…” Derpy said, staring at his mane.

“Yes?”

“What happened to your mane?!”