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Throughout Blake’s life there have been very few sounds that she’s come to associate with safety— with peace.
When she was a child it was the distant roar of the ocean, the voices of other children calling her to play with them, the bustle of the Menagerian market, her father’s humming as he cooked dinner, her mother’s teasing tone as she reminded Blake of something embarrassing she’d done as a baby. All of those noises are as much a part of her memories as the sights and smells and tastes that went along with them, combining to paint a picture of her life as she began to grow up.
Then came several years of silence. Oh, there was plenty of sound in the White Fang— hushed voices planning their next operation, fellow members shouting as they played cards, the clink of a bottle as one of the older recruits hastily knocked back some stolen liquor, weapons being loaded. Plenty of sound, but none of it bringing comfort or security or reassurance.
His voice was always the worst— it wasn’t just silence, or the absence of warmth, it was a constant drumming inside her head that never let up no matter what she did. But over time, since she left him and the White Fang behind, that old soundscape has gradually been replaced, a new medley of sounds taking up residence in her mind just as a new group of people take up residence in her heart.
Ren is running water and the clinking of a tea cup, the calmest and easiest for Blake to be around of Team JNPR. Nora is the crack of lightning and an explosion of fireworks, impressively full of life but just a little too much for Blake at times. Jaune is rattling armour and awful singing, but he seems sweet enough so Blake doesn’t mind. Pyrrha is earnest apologies and the clash of metal on metal, unwaveringly kind and fiercely determined— someone Blake can truly admire.
Sun is a loud dance beat and the bustle of a crowded street— a lot of fun but grating except in small doses. Blake thinks he could be a good friend, though, and she’s grateful to have someone who at least somewhat understands what it’s like to live as a Faunus outside of Menagerie.
As for her own team—
“Weiss, does Atlas have cookies?”
—Ruby is certainly the loudest of the four of them. It’s taken Blake a while to become accustomed to the muttering as Ruby draws up designs for new weapon enhancements, or the crunching as Ruby devours a whole packet of cookies in just a few minutes flat, or the flicking of pages—oohing and aahing—as Ruby races through a new comic book in a break between classes, but now she actually finds them soothing.
“Yes, Ruby. Atlas has cookies just like everywhere else in the world.”
Weiss is operatic vocals—Blake’s heard her singing in the shower when she thinks the dorm room is empty—and sombre, minor key piano pieces. She’s an indignant huff when Ruby gets crumbs on the floor, a long-suffering sigh when Yang suggests that they go and see the Achieve Men perform one weekend, a stilted but genuine laugh when Blake cracks a deadpan joke about the SDC’s health and safety pamphlet on Dust being longer than every essay Oobleck has ever assigned them combined. She’s the tapping of her pencil against the desk as she works— irritating at times but a grounding presence which Blake values dearly.
And Yang— well, Yang is special.
All of those other sounds have become constants in Blake’s life, countless tiny reminders of her friends which reinforce the knowledge that she isn’t alone. But with Yang everything feels like more. Blake finds herself paying more attention to Yang than she does to anyone else, cataloguing every detail about her partner so that she won’t forget a single thing. It’s like a full colour portrait as opposed to a sketch, she thinks— much more vibrant and real.
It’s one week into their first term when she hears Yang snore for the first time. Blake remembers when she had to sleep near other recruits who snored early on in the White Fang—how insufferable she found the noise—and she expects it to drive her just as insane now. But several minutes pass and she still doesn’t feel the urge to bury her head underneath her pillow in an attempt to block it out. Whether it’s simply due to being in a very different location, or something else, she actually discovers that Yang’s snoring almost seems to relax her, and she falls asleep faster than she has in weeks.
It’s three weeks into their first term at Beacon when she makes Yang laugh for the first time. They’re putting their gear away after sparring class and Cardin makes sure that his shoulder makes contact with Blake’s as he barges past her to get to his own locker. She feels a faint growl rise up in her throat, and only her desire not to draw attention to herself is keeping her from making sure he never bothers anyone ever again.
Unfortunately he must hear the noise, because he turns back to her with a sickeningly smug smirk. “You got a problem?”
“Yes, I do,” Blake replies passively, letting her lips curl into a small smile as she closes her locker and faces him. “But since you have the same intellectual capacity as that barbaric weapon of yours, I’ll save my breath.”
She can hear Yang trying to hold back a snort of amusement behind her, and even as Cardin’s face contorts with anger she doesn’t regret the comment.
“That’s rich coming from you,” he snarls. “How does it feel being the emo loner nobody likes?”
“Better than talking to you.”
Blake gives him a wide berth as she heads for the exit, and once they reach the corridor outside the locker room Yang finally gives up on suppressing her laughter. Blake’s caught off guard by the sound, feeling warmth spread through her chest at hearing such unrestrained joy from her partner. Yang’s laugh is a rich and vibrant sound, like a garden bursting with multi-coloured flowers after the barren desert, and Blake feels lighter just from listening to it.
“Blake, that was amazing,” Yang tells her, words totally sincere as always. “I had no idea you could be so sassy. I love it.”
She isn’t sure why the words have her stomach fluttering, but she decides to make it her mission to be responsible for Yang’s laugh as often as possible from now on.
It isn’t until over a year later that she becomes aware of the third sound related to Yang which she adores. They’re curled up together on one of the beds in the dorm room they’ve been given to stay in, and Blake is just happy to finally have a moment to rest. The cotton of Yang’s Atlas Academy pyjamas is soft under her cheek, and she snuggles further into her partner, settling with her head on Yang’s chest and letting out a contented sigh.
It takes her a few moments to realise that she’s in the perfect position to hear the rhythmic beating of Yang’s heart, but once she does her resolve not to move for as long as possible becomes even greater. Yang is warm and comfortable, and the proof that she’s alive and safe and here is right here for Blake to listen to. Her partner’s hand starts to run lazily up and down her spine, and Blake smiles when Yang leans down to drop a gentle kiss between her ears.
“I like listening to your heartbeat,” Blake murmurs drowsily after a moment of silence, and Yang chuckles, rewarding her with another of her favourite sounds.
“Why’s that?”
“It reminds me that you’re okay—“ Blake yawns, closing her eyes as she burrows further into her partner’s body heat. “—that we’re together.” Yang lets out a quiet hum of acknowledgement, and before she can think better of it Blake adds, “I love your laugh too. It’s so bright and pretty.”
Yang says nothing for several long seconds, and Blake reluctantly lifts her head, opening her eyes to find that her partner is blushing furiously. Unable to resist when Yang looks so adorable, she leans in for a quick kiss, just enjoying the feeling of her partner’s lips gentle and soft against her own. When they pull apart Blake rests her head over Yang’s heart again, letting the calming sound of its steady beating lull her towards sleep.
“Mostly I think I just love you,” she mumbles as she drifts off, and Yang’s arms curl more firmly around her, holding her close.
“I love you too, Blake.”