Chapter Text
The soft sheets feel comfortable on your cheek, but the homey feeling of your bed and room back in Patch do nothing to quell the discomfort in your chest as you wake up from another dream. (Or, perhaps it should have been more apropos to be called a nightmare.)
Fleeting images of Blake, and a few moments between the two of you that your subconscious proceeds to churn out during your sleep to try consoling you. It’s been days, and the latest of which, had her saying she loved you. You want to let out a bitter laugh. If you thought she loved you before, you’re beginning to think she doesn’t. At all.
You woke up that night asking for her, worried faces being the first thing in your vision and sympathetic looks afterwards. You register the weightless feeling at your right arm, and seeing Vale in complete disarray and covered with Grimm fills you with dread.
They fill you in on what had happened, and you find out that Weiss got taken back by her father, Ruby did something (although you’re still not sure what that is, save for the hushed but angry whispers Taiyang and Qrow exchange you manage to overhear), and Pyhrra is just gone. However, learning that Blake left topped everything off. You didn’t know why you expected the outcome to be different. Of course she ran. She always does.
(You wish that the pain you've felt you were younger doesn't resurface, but it does. You also wish that you knew how to deal with being left again, but once again you are at a loss.)
But you thought it would be different this time around—thought that perhaps she would see things in another perspective and stayed for once. Why would she stay for you, your mind seems to constantly ask. You couldn’t even fight for her. You couldn’t even fight him.
Your knuckles (the ones in your left hand, at least) turn white as you grip the blankets. Before you could let out a howl, you register that Ruby is still sleeping soundly in the bed beside yours.
When dawn comes, you ask to be transferred in another room. You don’t want to see the sympathizing look of your younger sister when she wakes up. You don’t want to let her see how weak you’ve become.
It takes some time to adjust, and you’re still not sure how to proceed with things. Your right arm swings limply by your side, and you feel empty somehow. You’re all cried out, and you have at least managed to get out of your room.
Taiyang turns his head from his place in the kitchen and gives you a big smile. “’Morning. How’re you feeling?”
Like shit, you think. You settle for a grunt, as a response, and you open the cabinets for breakfast. You see the PUMPKIN PETE’S MARSHMALLOW FLAKES at the corner, and your eyes water. You thought you already let it all out, but apparently you were wrong.
Your feet hobble on the wooden floor, and you slip. Your arm barely manages to catch your fall, but you manage to get up by your knees. Eyesight still blurred by the tears, you’re surprised when your dad helps you up back to your bed.
“Just call me when you need me, okay?” He seems to know that you need the space, and you’re thankful when he closes the door.
You let out a series of shuddering gasps, and the tears you’ve tried not to let out come. You feel like you’re a young child again, pulling at the blanket over your head as if it could protect you from all the bad in the world.
You spend a couple more days in your room, and refuse food for a couple of times. You feel weak. You feel tired. Somehow, things don’t feel worth it anymore.
Qrow comes by your room, sighing when he sees your still form. “You know, if you’re not going to do it for yourself, do it for your sister. She’s going to be worried sick,” he says.
You pause but relent then. When you take your first bite, you recall eating with everyone else—Team RWBY, Team JNPR, everyone. It tastes like home, and you briefly wonder if things will ever be the same: if the prosthetic arm you think you’ll probably get in the future would be like your old one, if Pyhrra had somehow survived, or if Blake would ever return. You think about how you’d react if you even see her again. You want to be angry, upset, livid, but deep down you know it is how she is and how she deals with her problems.
While she’s been consistent to her being, you wonder if you’ll still be the same and if you’ve somehow changed with everything that has happened.
However, you decide to push the thoughts back before it worsens. It’s easy, you realize, and even easier to let sleep take you and at least momentarily suspend your worries.
Your dad sits on a chair in your room, reading a book he had grabbed off the shelf.
"How can you get over someone you've never even been with?" Your voice sounds hoarse, and you dimly see the way his head raises up to meet your eyes. You haven’t said anything in a while, and you reach for the glass of water by your bed. His face morphs into confusion and you set down the drink. "Forget I said anything," you sigh.
Thumbing against the sheets, you go back to staring back at the window. The silence is deafening, but both of you leave it at that. You're thankful he doesn't ask any more questions, and the sound of the crisp page flipping echoes throughout the room.
"You don't have to do this, you know. I'm fine on my own,” you mumble. You’re trying to go for a sit-up, and you push back the hand that reaches out to you.
Corners of his mouth rise, and you see your dad's eyes shine. You're not entirely sure if it's because he's proud, or if he wants to cry. Either way, you don't want to know so you turn your head to look directly to the front. Breathe in, breathe out. You finish a couple repetitions before wiping sweat off your brow.
"It isn't easy, kiddo."
You turn back, eyebrows raising too much to be considered proper, but you stay to hear what he has to say.
"Look, I'm not sure if you're talking about your teammate or some other person but," Taiyang shifts, "it takes time. People cope in different ways, and I'm not going to rush you. Besides, I’m sure this Blake kid had her reasons.”
You want to reason with him. You want to tell him that he doesn’t know her like you know her. You want to tell him she’s lost (or at least you think she’s as lost as you are). But you know he’s right. Although his words don’t completely stop the ache you feel. “You’re right,” you manage to say.
His eyes widen as if surprised by your assent. His face softens and he pulls you into the Xiao Long family’s signature bear hug.
You let out a smile, and it strains at your face. It’s been a long time since you’ve done so, and you can feel a little less weight on your shoulders. You rest your head on his shoulder, not remembering the last time your heart had ever felt so full.
You sleep easier, but sometimes, you still see amber eyes and dark hair during the dead of night.