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It’d been something to do with the phrase ‘figure yourself out’ that had caused it, Blake is quick to learn not long after the fight is over with.
Yang had started it, technically, though it’d been with good intentions. According to Ruby’s eyewitness account, Yang and Weiss had returned from sparring together whilst debating amicably about different types of battle strategies. Ruby, being herself, had tuned in right away as the conversation changed to discussing different fighting styles, but it finally turned to talking about developing your own personal flairs. Yang’s side of the story stemmed from learning under the tutelage of family (close or distant), before striking out to carve her own path at Signal and Beacon alike. It’d left a wide, burning streak in her history, thousands of Grimm slain along the way, tens of bullies and assholes alike shoved about and into lockers, cementing a style where offence was often the best defence.
That’s when Weiss had grumbled something about never finding her own way, learning whatever she could from pre-determined and rigidly defined styles, gathering scraps of information from books and videos alike. So Yang, upbeat as ever, had said something along the lines of ‘you’ll figure yourself out! We all do!’
That’s when Weiss had turned around and gone ‘maybe you did, but I never got to figure out who I am for myself’ and Yang went ‘what d’you mean by that?’
And that’s the moment Blake had walked in, returning from a quiet study session in the library, only to see all hell break loose.
“I mean,” Weiss snaps, narrow shoulders rising to reach her ears. “That you and Ruby might’ve had all the time in the world to, I don’t know, run around and find out what sort of people you’re going to be, but some of us never got to have it that easy.”
Blake knows they’ve come in at a bad time. RWBY might’ve been top of the scoreboards at the end of last semester, pulling into the highest ranks across the board, but it’s always been… volatile. This isn’t the first time - nor will it be the last - that someone’s began to imply some ugly things when they’ve gotten too defensive. That said, Yang can see the pattern too, and she holds up both her hands in a gesture of surrender, taking half a pace back. “Woah, okay. I’m sorry. I didn’t-”
When Weiss barges forwards to stand hardly an inch away, shoulders squared and face reddened with fury, it’s clear Yang’s hit a nerve too hard to be ignored. “No you don’t- you’re not. You’re not sorry, because you don’t get it, you can’t possibly understand what it’s like to be-” The words choke her and there’s a wild motion of her hands like she’s forgotten how to breathe, suffocating in the open air. Yang looks like she wants to say something, looking to Ruby for help, but then Weiss resumes with a jab at Yang’s face. “What it’s like to be someone like me growing up in house like that.”
The pause that follows is resounding, but Blake gets it. It’s hard enough to be a Faunus when you surround yourself with people who love you, with friends who care for you. It’s even harder when people just tolerate you, but the idea of having looks of disgust on every side for years on end… it makes their skin crawl. Blake got lucky, really, and it still amazes them that Weiss somehow survived the worst hand she could have been dealt.
There’s the dull stamp of heels as Weiss turns away to cross to her side of the room, breathing fast and quiet, and her voice comes out like the grinding of bones. “I didn’t get to figure myself out, because all my life I’ve been told what I am. My whole fucking life I’ve only ever been what people say about me!”
She turns on her heel, and maybe the movement would be graceful if it wasn’t Weiss who’s the one doing it, if she wasn’t just so… angular. “Here’s what I am, Yang: a monster.” Weiss counts off one finger. “A- a freak. A mistake.” Two more fingers down. “A half-breed Faunus piece of shit. That’s what I’ve figured out about myself, Yang.”
Blake’s pretty sure that last one should’ve constituted two more fingers, but Weiss counts it as only one. They don’t say anything, though, instead just listening to Weiss’s ragged breaths. “I don’t get to be who I want. That- that ship sailed so long ago it’s not- it’s not even worth thinking about. I’m just…”
Her next breath is shaky, words blocking in her throat once more, and her look to Yang, then Ruby, then Blake, is wet with tears. “I don’t know what I am.”
Nobody says anything in the wake of her words, Ruby looking a little shellshocked and Yang’s jaw working without sound. Weiss looks at her team once more, sniffles, and then strides for the door. Blake’s in the way still, stood exactly as they were when they stepped inside, but she pushes past with the quietest sorry they’ve ever heard. And then, just like that, she’s gone.
Yang’s arms finally drop to her sides before she sighs heavily, putting her hands on her hips instead and scuffing her boot against the dark wooden floor. “Damn. Damn, damn, damn.”
“Same,” Ruby adds, cracking her knuckles as she stares towards the empty doorway. What just happened isn’t anybody’s fault, but Blake still steps over to press a hand to one of Yang’s broad shoulders.
“I’ll talk to her. I think you just hit a really sore spot by mistake.”
Yang makes a face, and then she grins, bright and cheery as if the last few minutes hadn’t even happened. “Yeah. We’ll kiss ‘n’ make up once she’s back.”
Blake can’t roll their eyes hard enough, not really, but that’s okay. Instead, Ruby offers a little smile of encouragement before Blake heads out of the doorway in near-silent steps, following the usual path down twisting, maze-like hallways. Beacon’s a big campus, but they reckon they know Weiss well enough by now.
They’re very alike, after all.
Blakes finds her outside on their bench.
Not that they own the bench or anything. A few weeks ago Blake had stumbled upon it, hidden away in the shadow of Beacon and surrounded by thick bushes taller than they were, obscuring it completely. They’d shown it to Weiss not long after, and since then they often came out together to sit for awhile. The rear of campus is almost always deserted, and other than the pool’s viewing room down in the bowels of Beacon, it’s one of few places where Blake and Weiss can enjoy the solitude together. Even the library couldn’t manage to be as quiet as the bench could be, at times.
So Blake checks there first, and their first guess hadn’t lead them astray; Weiss is curled up on the bench, chin on her knees, staring out at the horizon blankly. Her shoulders shake in a flinch when they approach, their footsteps crunching over the crisp grass, but she doesn’t even look their way. There’s a tang of salt in the air, Weiss’s cheeks blotchy with colour, and Blake doesn’t sit once they’re in reach of the bench. Instead, they lean forwards until Weiss meets their eyes, just for a fraction of a second.
“May I sit with you?”
There’s a stiff nod of acknowledgement, so Blake sits down next to her, keeping a safe distance as to not crowd her. The view is pretty breathtaking, the red-topped trees of Forever Fall like a bloodstain across the landscape, artfully spilled, so Blake’s content to sit for a while.
And for a while, that’s what they do. A quarter-hour passes, or maybe more, but eventually Weiss clears her throat, still not looking at Blake even as her head tilts towards them. “Is… Yang angry at me?”
There’s a distant slackening of her body when Blake shakes their head as they speak. “No. Surprised, mostly, but not mad.”
“Okay.” It takes a few tries but Weiss finally looks to Blake properly, the tension of an early frown running across her brow. “I’ll apologise when I go back. I didn’t mean to do... that.” The ending is a little lame and she waves her hand as she motions to herself, but Blake just smiles a little, leaning back to cross their legs beneath them.
“Wanna talk about it?” To Blake’s ears it rings a little hollow, even though they mean every word. Weiss tries to return their smile and it looks so fragile, molded from glass and liable to shatter in an instant.
“I think I said everything I needed to say, really.”
Blake mumbles in agreement, and then they both resume staring off into the distance, the afternoon sun above hitting its peak. On the horizon a flock of birds takes flight, running from either animal or Grimm, and it’s once they’re completely out of sight that Blake finally figures out what to say. So, they turn around on the bench until they’re facing Weiss, offering both hands to her.
“Look at me?”
Weiss glances over, scrunches up her nose, and looks like she’s about to ignore them before she huffs out a breath. Crossing her legs and turning to mirror Blake, knees touching, she reaches out and places her hands in theirs. Her hands are tiny and when Blake squeezes them softly they almost disappear in their grip, and there’s a flutter of nervousness as they hope they’re not about to fuck up hilariously badly.
“You said that… all your life people have told you what you are.”
Weiss nods, head cocking in curiosity.
“And that they’ve only said you’re a monster. Animal. Freak, half-breed, whatever.”
“That’s what I said, yes.” Confusion is blooming across Weiss’s face, blue and grey eyes narrowing, but Blake just keeps a tight hold on her hands, pushing on.
“So what if I tell you what you are? Will you- will you believe it? Believe me?”
The answering smile that Weiss makes is thin and devoid of humour, showing off the mountainous peaks of her teeth, her fingers digging in like a threat. “Blake, that’s not-”
“Will you?” They insist, tugging at her hands to draw her attention back to them. “Trust me?”
There’s a very long minute, a fog of silence settling around them like a humid cloud, but Weiss finally nods. Her palms are getting slick with sweat - or maybe Blake’s - and they breathes out slowly, evenly. Crack a smile. “Hey, Weiss?”
“What?”
“You’re grumpy in the mornings.”
“What? ”
She doesn’t immediately push them away, which Blake counts as a blessing, so they keep going. “When you don’t get coffee right away in the mornings, you’re super testy. You’re a pain in the ass when we have homework because you nag at us all the time. And if we have to do sparring early in the mornings, you’re the worst person to work with, I swear.”
Weiss is caught somewhere between a snarl and a snort, the strange rumbling in her chest like the start of an earthquake as she leans away. “I beg your pardon?”
“But-” It’s hard to keep the words from spilling out all over each other, rendering their sentences into a string of messes, but Blake tries to keep every syllable measured, slow and even. “But you’re a really good student. And you’re a good friend, and an amazing teammate.”
A second passes, and then the blush that blooms over Weiss’s face almost rivals the forest, painting across the bridge of her nose like watercolour. Blake doesn’t hesitate to keep talking, though, because there’s something swelling in their chest that wants them to make it so clear to Weiss how much she means to the team. How much she means to them. “You’re a skilled fighter, even if you don’t have a style of your own yet. You’re the cleverest person I know, too. And you’re… you’re kind. In your own ways.”
Weiss’s hands are limp in Blake’s own, her eyes too busy analysing every part of Blake from top to bottom and back again. Blake squeezes her hands once, twice, and on the third squeeze she finally stiffens a little, jaw opening and closing just like Yang’s had been. Blake’s ready to let her take her time, but their brain has a different idea, and they add, a little shyly, “And you’re really pretty.”
That shocks a laugh from her, breaking the silence like splitting a block of ice, and Weiss devolves into a bunch of snorting giggles that makes her whole body quake. She lets go of one hand to cover her eyes, and that’s when Blake realises half the giggles are sobs, fat tears dropping onto Weiss’s skirt as her laughter gets wetter.
“D-do you really? Do you... think all that about me?”
For a moment there’s fear running coolly down Blake’s spine, like maybe she doesn't trust them, but they just nod, leaning closer. “Of course. Of course. And- and like you said, you have to believe it, okay? I told you what you are, so that’s what you are.”
Glancing upwards, Weiss presses her mouth into the crook of her elbow, trying to hide all the tears and mucus and redness of her cheeks. “Even the bit… where you said I’m pretty?”
Blake laughs at that, light and airy, and they use their free hand to hold the back of Weiss’s neck, pulling her close enough that their foreheads touch. They can feel every sniff reverberate through her body, the warmth of her skin, and they grip her hand tightly and smile when she holds back just as hard. “Especially that bit. You believe me?”
There’s a moment where Weiss doesn’t say anything. A breeze runs over them both, bringing with it a wave of rustling leaves and clean, crisp air. Long black curls mix with short white strands and Blake absently kneads the back of Weiss’s neck, feeling her body relax little by little until she lowers her arm back onto her lap. “I believe you.”
One day, Blake knows Weiss will be somewhere better. Maybe she’ll embrace everything about herself, or maybe not, but that’s okay. Weiss has her team and the team will always have Weiss, and Blake thinks that so long as that’s true, then perhaps that’s a step in the right direction. Perhaps that's the start of healing.
“Thanks, Weiss.”
Much like Weiss herself, it’s the little things that count.