Chapter Text
The door slammed behind Yang as she finished bringing in Weiss’ final bag, leaning it against the counter with a satisfied sigh. Why Weiss had decided to bring a month’s worth of clothes escaped her, and Weiss had only defended her choices with a huff and a muttered ‘Options’. Yang wasn’t sure what the point of all that was, a good flannel and work boots never did anyone any harm. Then again, Yang mused as she watched Blake crash onto the couch and throw a pillow over her head, most of her flannels had been stolen by Blake at this point.
Yang shrugged at the thought and grabbed Weiss’ suitcase again, lugging it to her room. She didn’t mind Blake taking her shirts, she ran hot anyway. On some of the colder days, Yang could’ve sworn that she had seen steam rising off her skin. Besides, Blake was too cute to take them away. She was practically swimming in Yang’s shirt as she lay on the couch, groaning to herself as she tried to finish fighting off her hangover. The food and flight hadn’t done her any favors and Yang had needed to grab her some anti-nausea pills and a paper bag just to make sure she didn’t paint the airship floor a new color. Fortunately it didn’t come to that, though Blake had spent most of the last twelve hours glaring at anything unfortunate enough to be in her view.
As Yang slid Weiss’ suitcase into her room, right next to the other unopened suitcases that she’d dragged in, she resolved to make Blake a tuna melt the next day. And maybe the day after that...or, really, whenever Blake wanted. There was no mood that Blake could be in that couldn't be improved by seafood, it seemed. Yang pursed her lips as she considered that, already assembling a shopping list in her head. The market was the next Saturday and she had promised Penny that she would make chowder while she was on Patch. Penny apparently planned to stay for a few months, judging by the size of the suitcase she’d brought, which sat unopened in Ruby’s room. She, Weiss, and Ruby had decided that the best way to celebrate their successful show was a good long walk with Zwei, which might’ve been helped along by Weiss nearly tackling the small dog the moment she saw him.
And it had been a good show, one that Yang was proud of. They had clearly performed well on the album, it was one of the most played in the world right now, but performing live was a different beast. After a few hiccups at the start, Weiss stumbling over her stool, Blake accidentally strumming a chord while Ruby hyped up the crowd, and Yang choking on some of her own hair, they had managed to get their act together. That was one of the best parts about having Ruby as a frontwoman, she could make anything into a joke. She and Yang traded the job back and forth for most shows, but upon learning that Penny was in the audience Ruby had snatched the mic away like it was made of gold.
Yang couldn’t blame her, of course, if it had been her on stage and Blake in the audience, she would’ve jumped at the chance to be the frontwoman. Then again, Ruby didn’t have her problem with nerves when it came to performing in front people she wanted to impress. Yang had barely been able to speak without stuttering when it was just Blake and her, never mind with the added pressure of a packed stadium. Yang didn’t mind the crowd, if anything being in front of an audience made her happier than anything else, but the idea of Blake being there? That was a different story entirely. How Ruby did it was beyond her, Yang was a bumbling mess around beautiful women at the best of times.
She stepped back into the hallway with a small, satisfied sigh, happy to be back home on Patch. Travelling was all well and good, but there really was nowhere like home. Yang let out a happy sigh as she settled into one of the chairs at the kitchen counter, plopping her chin in her hand. She took a long breath, drinking in the familiar smell of home, her shampoo, Ruby’s weed, the ever present smell of fish and manure that was life on Patch. She breathed in and smiled dopily as the faint whiff of chamomile tea drifted past her nose. Blake had already started to make the place her own, even before she and Yang had started dating officially. Of course, it wasn’t official as far as their publicists were concerned, and that suited the pair just fine. Yang liked her privacy and Blake was rather secluded by nature. The last thing either of them wanted was the firestorm that would be coming out as a couple in public.
It would have to happen eventually, of course. They couldn’t keep it secret forever, it was impossible. Prying eyes and greedy journalists were a natural part of being in the public eye, and while Yang was fine sharing details of her past that she had come to terms with, she would never dream of revealing her relationship with Blake without Blake’s express permission. Respect was, after all, the founding stone of any good relationship. Yang had every intention of respecting Blake as a person and a musician.
There was a small groan from the living room and Yang craned her head around to see Blake flopping around on the couch until she had buried her head against the back cushion. She muttered a few muffled curses, then buried her head under a pillow. Yang smiled softly at her and shook her head in wonder. Blake Belladonna never failed to surprise her, and it was time to do the same in return. A hot mug of tea would go a long way to keeping her hangover at bay, especially with fall tumbling into winter. If Blake had thought that summer on Patch was cold, she was going to be horrified at the average temperature of a winter on the small island.
As Yang leaned on the counter, watching the kettle to make sure it didn’t boil over, she couldn't help but be amazed that this situation had lasted for as long as it had. She had expected Blake and Weiss to be on Patch for a week, maybe two at most. Now they were nearing five months and Blake, at least, showed no signs of leaving anytime soon. Weiss had said that Winter was planning to come to Patch soon and that she might return to Mantle with her, but Blake had yet to leave the island, outside of their last trip to Mistral.
Yang frowned as she considered that, wondering just what Blake’s life had been like in Menagerie. Clearly she had people who cared about her, who wanted to know she was safe. She talked to her agent nearly every day, and her parents at least once a week. It was strange, but not unwelcome, that she had settled into life on Patch so easily.
The thoughts still wafted gently around Yang’s mind as she carried Blake’s tea over to her, gently reaching out and giving her a small shake. “Gotcha some tea, darlin’,” she murmured and Blake grumbled something before shoving herself upright. She looked around with heavily lidded eyes, looking as though she had just been on the verge of sleeping. Yang smiled sheepishly and offered her the mug of tea. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”
“You didn’t,” Blake muttered, grabbing the tea with a small, “Thanks.” She took a sip, pursed her lips in thought, then nodded in satisfaction. “It’s not bad. You’re doing a lot better.” Yang felt a rush of relief come over her as she heard that, glad that her lessons with Blake about proper tea making were paying off.
“It ain’t your twelve step method,” she said with a wry laugh, “but I figured you could use somethin’ for the hangover.”
Blake nodded with a rueful smile, keeping her eyes half closed. “It’s only ten steps,” she mumbled, then, “You have any pain meds? My head is killing me.”
“Sure thing,” Yang said, pushing off the couch and heading to the bathroom, returning with a pair of pain relief pills for Blake. “Qrow got these for me,” she explained as she saw Blake turn up her nose at the neon green pills, “He used to be an alcoholic, back before he shaped up. These are the ones he used to use to get up in the mornin’. Gave ‘em to me once he stopped drinkin’.” Blake nodded slowly, then snatched up the pills and swallowed them with a gulp of tea so quickly she probably didn’t even taste them. Not that Yang blamed her for that, those pills tasted like grass run through a saw mill and drowned in a swamp. Qrow got them special, they were bound to taste awful. “So,” Yang said, leaning onto the couch with one arm, “back in the hotel...did you say ‘y’all’?”
Blake froze in the middle of a sip of tea, her face scrunching up in thought. “Did I?” she murmured and Yang laughed softly.
“I think you did.”
“It’s your fault,” Blake said with a teasing smile, “You’re a bad influence on me.”
“S’not my fault you find my accent sexy,” Yang said with a shrug and Blake snorted with laughter as she looked away.
“Sexy, right,” she drawled, “Just want until you stay in Kuo Kuana for a while, you’re gonna be picking up slang left and right.”
Yang rolled her eyes playfully at that and Blake laughed again. There was a moment of silence as they sat there, quietly enjoying one another’s company, until Yang murmured, “So you thinkin’ of headin’ back?”
“Back?” Blake asked, “Back where?”
“To Kuo Kuana,” Yang said and Blake pursed her lips in thought. She took another sip of tea, then shook her head firmly.
“No, not any time soon. I’ll stay as long as you’ll let me,” she said with a shrug and Yang felt her heart lift as she heard that. “But,” Blake said, holding up a finger, “I do want to head back at some point. I need to see my parents and Ilia’s insisting on meeting you.”
“We can do that,” Yang agreed, reaching out and stroking a lock of hair behind Blake’s ear. Blake hummed softly in thought, leaning into the touch and making Yang’s gaze soften with adoration.
“Not right now,” Blake murmured and Yang nodded slowly.
“Yeah, not right now. We gotta get the farm winterized first, and even then we could only be gone for a few days.” Yang frowned slightly as she considered the list of things that would need to be done to allow her and Blake some time for a trip to Kuo Kuana. “And that’s only if Ruby agrees to stick around and look after everythin’.”
“Penny can help, can’t she?” Blake asked and Yang shook her head with a rueful smile.
“Nah, Penny’s helpless on the farm,” she said dryly and Blake smirked, “She’s got enthusiasm though, so I can’t blame her for wantin’ to try.” Yang laughed and leaned onto the couch fully, until she gently bumped her forehead against Blake’s. “Reminds me of you when you first got here.”
Blake scoffed with mock offense and punched Yang softly on the shoulder. “At least I learned what I was doing. Weiss is still a mess.”
“Don’t let her hear you sayin’ that,” Yang teased and Blake scoffed again, then finished her tea. Yang took the empty mug, murmuring, “You want any more?”
“No thanks,” Blake said, flopping back to the couch, “Would you mind grabbing me a blanket? I don’t think I’m going to be able to move for the rest of the day.”
“Can do, hon,” Yang said, then stood and grabbed a blanket off the nearby loveseat. She draped it over Blake, tucking her in as best she could, and planted a small kiss on her cheek. “And don’t worry about gettin’ up early tomorrow. I got Ruby and Penny to help out, you can sleep in.”
“Nope,” Blake said, squirming until she was on her side, her amber eyes starting to close. “I’m gonna be there, bright and early.”
Yang laughed softly and kissed her cheek again, receiving a pleased hum in return. “S’alright, I’ll see you then. You want me to wake you for dinner?” Blake frowned as she closed her eyes, then shrugged.
“Only if it’s fish,” she mumbled, then pulled a pillow to her chest in a tight embrace before drifting off. Yang smiled softly at her for a while, watching the rise and fall of her chest as she snored quietly. Then she ran her hand through her hair with a small, contented sigh. There was plenty of work to be done around the farm, both tonight and all the days after, but there was plenty of help to get it done, even if Penny was more of a liability than a laborer. A few weeks of early mornings with Ruby would sort her out, Yang decided, then she headed back for the kitchen. Fish for dinner sounded like a great idea.
Blake settled in on Yang’s bed, leaning back against the wall as she placed her scroll on the bed next to her. Yang was across the room, detaching her prosthetic after a long day’s work on the farm. She turned to look over at Blake, a soft smile spreading across her face as she did so. “Think we have time for a shower before the call?” she asked and Blake glanced at the time. She shook her head softly, murmuring,
“No, Ilia and Pyrrha have lunch plans, and they always stay out all day. Unless we want to talk to them at midnight, we should do it now.” Yang nodded as she placed her prosthetic on the wall near her others, then sat down next to Blake, the scroll between them. Their hands found each other instinctually, fingers entwining as Blake tapped Ilia’s name on her scroll and called her. It would be around noon in Menagerie now, and if they were lucky Ilia hadn’t partied too much the night before after seeing how well RWBY did at the All Remnant. She had a tendency to let herself go when she was excited or overjoyed, which made Blake glad that Pyrrha was much more levelheaded. Ilia had more than one story that began with ‘So I was drunk one night…’ Blake pushed the thoughts from her head, leaning into Yang and nestling comfortably against her shoulder, humming softly in contentment as Yang gave her a soft kiss on the cheek.
After another few rings, Ilia answered the call with a, “Blake! Why didn’t you tell me that Yang was going to put you on her shoulders during your guitar duet?” Blake laughed with a shake of her head and Yang snickered, wrapping an arm around Blake and leaning her head onto her shoulder, the closeness giving Blake the courage she needed to push forwards.
“It just kind of happened. You know how live performances are,” Blake said nonchalantly, making Ilia huff softly.
“At least you didn’t almost blow up the stage like Flower Power .” Blake grimaced at that, remembering the shock of everyone in the stadium, artists, audience, and crew, when Nora’s claim of ‘record setting pyrotechnics’ hadn’t been an exaggeration.
“At least there’s that,” Blake said slowly, then sighed. Before she could say anything else, Ilia cut in and asked,
“What’s wrong?”
“What makes you think something’s wrong?” Blake asked after a moment of hesitation, and Ilia snorted with laughter.
“You always sigh like that when something’s wrong.” She paused, then a realization hit her and she quickly added, “Is it something that Yang did? Cause I’ll come out to Patch and set her right, you know I will.” Ilia carried on for a few moments, muttering about just how she would set Yang right, and Blake looked over to see Yang’s eyes widen with mounting terror. Ilia was just finishing up with “...find her in several dumpsters,” when Blake cut in,
“It’s nothing that Yang did, Ilia. Yang’s great, she’s never done anything to hurt me.” Yang relaxed at that, nuzzling against Blake’s cheek and making Blake smile softly. A long moment of silence hung in the air as Ilia took in what Blake had said, then she asked,
“Then what is it?”
“Are you okay with Yang and I dating?” Blake asked slowly, and a heavy sigh resonated out from her scroll into the room. “I know that you want to keep me safe, especially after Adam,” Blake murmured and she could picture Ilia’s slow nod.
“I do want to keep you safe,” she muttered in response, “And you can make your own choices, and I know that it’s not my place to tell you who you can date.” Another sigh, then Ilia added, “Pyrrha’s been telling me how wonderful Yang is for weeks now.”
“She’s right,” Blake said softly, glancing up at Yang and seeing such a wonderful love glimmering in her lilac depths that it took Blake’s breath away. Yang nuzzled against her again and Blake giggled.
“She’s in the room, isn’t she?” Ilia asked.
“Right next to me, yeah,” Blake said and Ilia let out a long, low breath.
“Good, cause I don’t wanna say this twice.” Ilia took a moment to collect herself, then said, “I want you safe, Blake. You’re my best friend, and I love you. If anything ever happened to you, you know that I’d do anything to help you, right?”
“Right back at you, Ilia,” Blake murmured and Ilia grunted in acknowledgement before continuing,
“You’ve been through a lot, and I know that me telling you what you should and shouldn’t do is the last thing you need, I just need to be sure that Yang’s going to treat you right.”
“She will,” Blake said softly, glancing at Yang who was watching her phone as she gently toyed with the hem of Blake’s shirt. “Nobody’s ever treated me as well as Yang has. She makes me feel wanted, and valuable, and just...loved. She’s so much better than Adam ever was.”
There was a long moment of silence, then Ilia whispered, “Does she make you happy?”
“Yes,” Blake responded, without a moment of hesitation, “She makes my heart so happy.” The moment Blake said it, she knew it was true, even more so than it had been a moment ago. Yang was everything that Blake wanted and needed from a partner. She was strong when Blake was weak, gentle when Blake needed tenderness, a bastion against the swirling storm around her, a soft place to call home. Yang was always going to be there for Blake, through thick and thin, highs and lows, and Blake would be there for her in return. They nestled against one another so naturally that it was like two pieces of a well worn puzzle finally coming together once more. Blake didn’t believe in soulmates, but she knew that her heart had been crying out for Yang for years now. It was like she had met Yang for the first time and the very fiber of her being had said, ‘Oh. I’ve been looking for you’. There were no arguments, no battles to wage, just soft acceptance and compromise, just two women in love.
Blake’s thoughts were cut off by Ilia saying, “Good. I’m glad.” There was a moment of silence, then she added, “I’m happy for you.”
“Thanks Ilia,” Blake murmured, feeling tears welling in her eyes. Yang gasped softly and reached up, tenderly wiping away a fat teardrop with her thumb. Blake smiled softly and turned to bury her head into Yang’s shoulder. Yang cooed softly, wrapping her arm around Blake and holding her tight, letting her know that she was safe.
“And Yang?” Ilia asked and Yang said,
“What’s up, Ilia?”
“If you hurt her, I will come out to Patch and kill you.” Blake felt a nervous shudder run through Yang’s body, then Yang fell back on humor and said,
“You and Weiss both.”
“Oh, good. Then we’ll definitely get away with it,” Ilia said and Blake looked up to see Yang smiling weakly. “But seriously, I’m happy for you two,” Ilia added and Yang let out a heavy sigh of relief, slumping against the wall. Blake laughed softly, leaning forwards to nuzzle their foreheads together and Yang hummed happily, nuzzling right back. “Well, I have to go to lunch. Pyrrha had to get these reservations three months ago, so we can’t be late.”
“Have fun,” Yang said and Blake turned away long enough to grab her scroll and say,
“Don’t have too much fun.”
“Yes mom,” Ilia grumbled and Yang laughed, that same deep, resonating sound that Blake loved. “Talk to you two later,” Ilia said, then hung up. Blake slid her scroll into her pocket with a sigh, collapsing back into Yang’s arms and letting herself fall as Yang leaned back, both of them laying on her bed. They stared into one another’s eyes for a long moment, loving lilac into adoring amber, then Yang asked,
“Is she always like that?”
“Pretty much, yeah. She’ll still be like that even if we’re together for decades,” Blake said and Yang snorted with laughter. They nestled into each other once more, quietly enjoying one another’s company for a long while until Ruby shouted,
“Dinner!”
Yang groaned softly and buried her face into the crook of Blake’s neck, murmuring, “Can we just snuggle and eat in here?”
“Sure,” Blake said with a smile and Yang let out another groan, this one of joy, then Blake added, “But we need to shower first. You still smell like pig shit.” Yang laughed at that, burying the sound against Blake’s neck and Blake couldn’t help but laugh along with her.
“Alright, a shower, then dinner,” Yang said, extricating herself from Blake’s embrace to stand, offering her a hand to help her up. Blake took it and stood alongside her, the two nuzzling their foreheads together once more. Yeah, Blake thought to herself, Yang made her heart so wonderfully happy.
It surprised Yang how easily the band shifted back into living together after the hustle and bustle of the performance. She had thought that Weiss would book it back to Atlas now that they weren’t on a contract to make something new so quickly, but instead she stuck around, grudgingly feeding the animals and trading glares with The Bastard. She had taken to Penny immediately and with Ruby involved they made for a hell of a trio, taking the island by storm. Penny had even dragged them all out for trivia at the local bar, which they had nearly won until the final category of various stages of mammalian evolution came up. There were always curveballs like that, especially when her uncle was in charge of running trivia as he usually was. Being best friends with the bar owner, even if he never drank a drop, had its perks.
That wasn’t the only reason, of course. A few nights after their return to Patch, Weiss had cleared her throat at dinner and announced, with surprising hesitancy from someone so focused, that she was a level one lesbian. After a moment of shock, Yang had gasped and leapt at her, lifting her up in the air in a gleeful hug. The others had joined in too, showing their absolue love and support for Weiss in this new part of her life. They had stayed in the dining room for hours, holding Weiss as she cried tears of joy. After that, Weiss had settled in on the island like she might never leave.
The only other differences after their performance was the arrival of Penny and the departure of Klein. A sudden influx of work in Mantle had dragged Robyn away from her and Winter’s house, and Klein had elected to go fill in as housekeeper. He had been devastated, or as devastated as a man that refined could be, but Yang suspected he was more than happy to get away from the boiling pot of energy and excitement that was Penny and Ruby. The two were up at three, and often made enough noise so that everyone else was too.
Still, Yang wasn’t that upset. It was nice to wake up early, roll over to see Blake curling up tighter into a ball against her, and fall back asleep. It was always wonderful to start off her days seeing the woman she loved so peaceful, even if it was a good two hours before she wanted to be awake.
It was really the only time that Blake was peaceful these days. Between the work on the farm, setting up a visit with Pyrrha and Ilia, preparing to go public with Yang, and a new song, she barely even had time to sleep. Yang had taken to massaging her shoulders while she worked on her new song, listening with a dopey smile as Blake hummed the melody to herself. It was fast and hard, and she had sworn up and down that she needed Yang to be in top form for both her part of the duet and to provide the backing guitar. Yang had grinned cockily, eager to start practicing. She was always up for a challenge, and from the sounds of it this song was right up her alley.
It was most certainly a song by Blake Belladonna, marked by the heavy guitar riffs and her trademark theme on the piano hinted at the very end, but she had graciously allowed Yang to work on it with her. The two stayed up long into the night, far longer than they should have working on the song.
Their pace was almost spurred on by the wave of interviews and paparazzi that came after their performance in the All Remnant Music Festival. Everyone wanted a hot new piece of gossip from the group who was now, by the predictions of at least three major magazines, the most popular new musical act in all of Remnant. Their live performance had been recorded and, the last time that Yang had checked, the video had almost twelve million views and thousands of comments talking about how much the commenter enjoyed their set. The band had all but taken refuge from reporters and photographers who, luckily, hadn’t found the farm yet. Yang knew they would, it was inevitable with the pace of the entertainment industry, but for now they had their safe haven to just be themselves. It was in that haven that Blake was staring at her song, now completed. It was still rough, but she was holding it at arm’s length as she had a habit of doing when she was naming new songs.
“Whatcha thinkin’?” Yang asked softly, leaning her head onto Blake’s shoulders. Blake sighed softly and furrowed her brow in concentration, even as she reached over one hand to gently brush Yang’s cheek. Or rather, she would have done so if she wasn’t so concentrated on the song in front of her, instead winding up lightly batting Yang’s nose with one hand. Yang laughed softly and nuzzled against her shoulder, settling into a comfortable silence as she absently played the chords to the song on her guitar.
“It’s about us,” Blake said slowly, “And me, I guess, everything that I told you about.” Yang listened with rapt attention as Blake explained, well used to being her sister’s rubber duck from years of working together. Blake continued, “It’s not about him,” Adam, Yang knew, “but it also is. It’s about moving past him, about not looking back, about moving on, about finding you, and Weiss, and Ruby.”
“It’s in the lyrics, idn’t it?” Yang asked softly, her accent coming on thicker as the late hour deepened, “I will not be afraid, nor will I run away, right?”
“Yeah,” Blake murmured, then added, “It needs something, that phrase especially.” She tapped her lips in thought with the end of her pen, then nodded in determined satisfaction, scribbling in an insertion symbol and a scrawled ‘nevermore’. She considered that for a moment, lips pursed in thoughts. Yang watched her with thinly veiled interest. She always loved watching Blake work, watching her put together words and phrases, song and melody. It was like watching a master at work, a god creating a universe from nothing. Yang could get into a groove when writing songs, but she had rarely reached the conclusions and connections that came to Blake so easily. Such a connection occurred and Blake gasped, lunging forwards as she dragged her notebook towards her, meeting it in the middle with her pen. Yang yelped as her perch shifted so quickly, nearly thrown to the floor and only catching herself on a small pile of pillows that Ruby had taken to using as a fort to write inside. “Sorry, sorry,” Blake said, not looking up as her pen flew across the page, “I just have to get this down now, or I’m gonna lose it.”
“S’alright, hon,” Yang said quickly, righting herself and watching in wonder as Blake worked her magic, “I don’t mind.” Blake nodded absentmindedly, writing another line, then finishing it with a flourish. She sat back with a thud and a heavy breath, clutching her notebook to her chest. Yang gasped in joy as she saw Blake’s face split into a satisfied smile, a smile of her own spreading across her face. There was a long moment of silence, then Yang whispered, “You finished it?”
“Yeah,” Blake said with a grin, her eyes meeting Yang’s, satisfied amber staring into awestruck lilac. “I finished it.” She turned the notebook to face Yang, who read it quickly, humming along with the tune as she did so. The new phrases, the new cadence and rhythm, worked far better than they had before, the conviction of Blake’s words, of her very soul, flowing off the page and into song like an anthem that forged the stars. Blake hadn’t just finished it, she’d perfected it. Yang let out a long, low whistle as she finished reading, beaming at Blake as she did so.
“It’s fuckin’ perfect,” she said with a solemn nod and Blake hummed happily, slumping to her side. She mumbled a soft,
“Thank the gods.” She gently placed her notebook on the ground, then wriggled around so she was laying on her back. With a soft smile, she said, “I’m exhausted. You mind if I sleep here?” Yang shrugged, knowing full well the emotional toll of creativity. Writing Armed and Ready had been the most exhausting three months of Yang’s life.
“Can I join, or is this a private party?” she asked with a soft, teasing tone, and Blake snorted with laughter, holding open one arm.
“You’re invited,” she said, then held up a finger, “But only if you get the light and I get to be the big spoon.”
“Anythin’ for you, darlin’,” Yang said with a wink and Blake laughed. With that Yang rested her guitar against the couch and stood, flicking off the light before stumbling back to Blake and collapsing into her arms. Blake curled around her and held her tight, Yang easily snuggling in against her as the moon shone in through the window gently, illuminating Blake’s notebook.
“Love you, hon,” Blake murmured, kissing the back of Yang’s neck softly. Yang hummed softly in contentment and said,
“Love you too.” She had never meant anything more seriously than that moment.
As they drifted off to sleep, Yang couldn’t help but reflect on how far they’d come. Gone were the days of awkward flirting and half sincere expressions of affection. Now they were open with their love, so much so that the idea of going public didn’t scare Yang nearly as much as it had. It was still worrying, if the paparazzi were a problem now they were certainly going to be one after that, but Yang didn’t mind too much. She had Blake, and Blake had her. If the rest of the world knew, well, so be it. They could know that she loved the most wonderful woman in the world, but they didn’t get to be here, in moments like this. They didn’t get to see Blake’s wonderful dorky nature, or her snippy sarcasm. The rest of the world didn’t have a place in their bed, when Yang would curl up against Blake, rest her head on her chest and listening to her heartbeat, or when Blake would flop on top of Yang and bury her head into her neck, falling asleep instantly.
The rest of the world could know them, but only just. They could know them as performers, but only they got to know each other as friends and as lovers. Yang knew that much, just as much as she knew that the rest of the world would never know the weight of the words in their songs. They put so much into their music, so much that went unsaid or unheard.
Now, finally, they had someone to tell it all to, to hold their shattered hearts and broken pieces and help put them back together. Now, after so long, Yang had someone who understood, fully, what she had been through, and she understood what Blake had been through. It wasn’t perfect, but it was enough. They cared about each other. THat was more than enough.
As Yang finally drifted off with a happy hum, she glanced once more at the notebook on the ground, smiling as she read the words.
Nevermore, nevermore
Will I run away
Or will I be afraid
It’s behind me
The fear of losing someone was fading, slowly and surely within Blake’s gentle embrace. Blake had fewer nightmares about her ex, and she was always willing to tell Yang about them when they happened, healing in her own way. They helped one another, day by day, moment by moment, building back to who they had been before and beyond. They would be so much more, together. It was like the song said, the words that Blake had written first and which still rung through Yang’s mind like a clarion call:
Freedom is finally here