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Like with most things, it started off slow.
Curious glances with questions left unanswered. Passing thoughts that stay solid only in the comfort of night. Accidental brushes that do nothing but give sparks of electricity, of something more, something neither of them were ready to name.
Every good tragedy hero has a shadow.
Their story starts like a book with no ending in sight. A hesitant beginning, pages that turn with a soft touch and eager eyes. Words that jump out, begging to be grasped and understood.
The glances turn to deliberate stares. The thoughts become fantasies, the brushes become arm, shoulder, thigh touching. The electricity turns to lighting, the pages turn faster and faster as the months go by.
No one else notices. They’re in their own little world.
The book reaches it’s climax one fateful night deep in the Forever Fall forest, where two bleeding hearts reach for one another and start to heal. The silence of the woods gets interrupted only by the sound of their heartbeats pressed together — music that is both soothing and exhilarating at the same time. A song that belongs only to them.
Who kissed who first; only the trees are allowed to know.
“ — and then I said, “But how did you get peanut butter on the ceiling?!”, and then she — “
Pyrrha smiles to herself as Nora tells her the story on how her and Yang managed to get in trouble with Professor Goodwitch… again. For the third time this week alone.
Her smile hides something else, too. She’s only too aware of how close her friends have gotten lately — between Nora showing up at their dorm in the dead of night, and Ruby telling her that Yang has been staying out late more and more, she has a sneaking suspicion on what’s happening.
It’s not any of her business of course, and she could very well just be looking into something that doesn’t exist. But she’s always been a romantic at heart, and it’s not hard for her thoughts to curiously wonder about it.
Especially because of the way Nora’s face brightens and glows whenever she mentions Yang’s name — her laughter lighter, her grin wider and eyes tenderer. Pyrrha knows she’s not making that up.
These thoughts spur her to glance behind her where Team RWBY always sits in the library.
She’s stared here long enough to land her eyes exactly on her target. And Blake, who always seemed more attuned to her than most, quickly looked up from her book.
They share a single beat, charged and familiar, before backing out in quiet, and almost unnoticeable, smiles.
Pyrrha remembers clearly when she first fell for her. It was during a food fight of all things — a single brief moment where her and Blake faced off against one another. It was Blake’s intense stare that pulled her in and she had never been able to pull herself out since. A warmth that engulfed her completely, made her feel safe and secure and seen. Who wouldn’t want to get lost in that?
She wonders what Blake thinks when staring at her own bright green eyes. Does her eyes change like Nora’s when she looks at Yang? Or are they set in steel; a warrior first and everything else second. Pyrrha can only see herself and nothing more. Nothing that can compare to the eyes that glitters gold.
She’s so focused on them that she almost misses the subtle tilt of Blake’s head. A motion that doesn’t mean anything to anyone who would happen to be watching, but means everything to her.
She knows what it means. Blake wants to see her in the forest later today.
Pyrrha cups a hand in her cheek and looks back at her team. She accepts.
The forest seems to glow even more brilliantly at night.
Pyrrha runs swiftly but quietly, excited but careful to not feel anxious, weaving in between the trees as though she were raised her entire life in them. She wasn’t, but she was trained in a forest back in Argus. One that matched her eyes similar to how this one matches her hair.
No matter where she goes, she always seems to find herself somehow.
She follows the familiar route deep in the trees, far from the school, far from where Grimm seem to roam. They’re still around somewhere, scuttling and hunting and roaming and whatever it is they do other than kill people, but she’s long since mastered the art of hiding her emotions when it’s mattered most. Negativity is the true killer here.
(She’s nothing more than a champion in the spotlight. Everyone knows her name, no one knows who she is. No one, except — )
Only the moonlight guides her path, straining as she pushes further in and slowly getting snuffed by the shadows. There’s a feeling here that can only be felt during the night — a new type of beauty that light cannot shine accurately on. Something nostalgic and homesick bites at her.
She slows down when she reaches the ancient tree. A huge, giant thing that almost looks as though four trees had morphed into one. Professor Ozpin once said that this was the first, and thus the oldest, tree in the entire forest. Aged more than two thousand years and is the heart of Forever Fall. He said it with such conviction that one couldn’t help but take it as fact — even though no one alive could ever be able to verify something like that. They’d have to be thousands of years old.
This tree looks both the exact same as all the others but also noticeably different when you compared them side by side. The bark is slightly darker, the leaves dimmer and more faded but still so bright at the same time. It certainly looked older than all the others.
And it’s because of this that they decided this would be the perfect spot for them to meet up in secret. No one ever comes out this far, the trees get more clustered the further centered one gets which most Grimm can’t fit through. It’s certainly a hike for sure, but the privacy is more than worth it.
Pyrrha frowns then and gently touches the base of the tree.
Their relationship is still new, but the most important part of it isn’t the intimacy. Nor the comfort, the closeness, not even the love.
The most important part is the secrecy.
“Before we go any further,” Blake had said, taking a small step back and wrapping her arms around herself. “You need to know what you’re getting into. It’s only fair.”
She told her about her past with the White Fang, the stuff she’s done while in it, and her fear of what else they’ll do now that they’re in Vale and working with Roman Torchwick. She opened up a piece of her heart and it didn’t take much insight for Pyrrha to see just how truly anxious and terrified she is.
She could also tell that Blake was hiding something else. Something important that was possibly what was scaring her the most about the situation, but she didn’t want to say what it was.
That’s fine. They have forever to learn more about each other.
And so it was Blake who first proposed the idea of keeping their relationship a secret from everyone. She didn’t want any attention drawn to her from anybody. She wanted to maintain her secluded image that she had carefully crafted as to not risk hurting anyone.
And Pyrrha, who wore her heart on her sleeve like a woven patch, who didn’t like having to hide parts of herself at all despite the necessity, couldn’t help but agree.
Blake wasn’t getting involved with just anybody. It was with her. The natural-born fighting prodigy who was so well known within Mistral that she got hired to blast her face on a series of children’s cereal commercials. She was a recognizable household name. Everyone knew her name — the only other person at Beacon who is probably more famous than her is Weiss Schnee. Even now, she has a giant pile of unopened fan letters in her drawer back at her dorm.
So if people saw them together news would spread like wildfire before either of them had the chance to blink.
Pyrrha wouldn’t mind too much. If the White Fang does go after Blake, and thus go after her by proxy, she can take care of herself. But it’s important to her girlfriend that she stay protected, and so it’s important to her.
Pyrrha’s frown disappears, replaced with something sweeter. Her girlfriend. What a wonderful luxury to have.
The air changes at the same time a twig snaps behind her, noticeable in the silence of the night, and she turns around, expectant and unafraid. There’s only one person she knows with steps light as feathers and who would purposely make her presence known like this as she had many times before.
Blake emerges from the void of the trees, beautiful and perfect. Pyrrha feels every tension in her body relax, every ache from training ebbing away like her soul is being healed. It’s incredible how much power Blake has.
And when Blake looks at her like a lifeline she had been chasing after this whole time, she knows that she’s affecting her just as much.
They both step closer. Softly, cautiously, daringly. A dance between them to see who’s going to make the first move this time. A game they know all too well by now.
“Hey,” Blake whispers, smiling.
“Hello,” Pyrrha replies breathlessly. “I’m here.”
A beat between time and heart, and then. . .
Pyrrha moves first. She lunges toward the other, wrapping her arms around her shoulders and greeting her with a kiss that would make Neptune’s cheesy romance novels jealous.
Blake returns in kind, her hands grasping Pyrrha’s biceps and kissing her back as though they’ve been years apart when, in reality, it’s only been two days since their last meeting.
This passion almost feels exaggerated in a way. Desperation that shouldn’t be there.
Maybe it’s because of all their pent up affections while around one another. They can’t even hold hands — can’t even stare too long at each other — without risking someone’s suspicions. If not the other students, then surely their friends would notice them acting different pretty much immediately. And despite being secretive, neither of them are comfortable with lying about this should it come to that. It makes this even harder considering just how often both their teams hang out together.
There’s always a pull between the two of them that gets heavier the longer they refuse to follow it.
Or maybe it’s because, deep down, they almost feel as thought they’re running on borrowed time. There’s not much reason for it, and really no rhyme at all, but the feeling is there nonetheless. A thorn poking into them that they’re choosing to ignore.
It’s not completely illogical. They’re Huntresses-in-training — one unlucky day and one of them will be gone forever. Just like that. Even now, here, in the deep forest where only the dark can reach, they’re still just a simple mistake away from permanently losing each other.
But this feels different. Like they’re coping with the inevitable rather than focusing on the present. Their fates tied into a knot whose threads threaten to snap at any moment.
That’s illogical. That’s what doesn’t make sense here. They’re both strong and capable fighters; neither of them are going anywhere any time soon. So why is there a constant pit of worry deep within her stomach? Why does the future seem so shaken when it should be bright and hopeful?
Maybe she’s just nervous because Professor Ozpin had requested a meeting with her tomorrow and she has no idea what it’s about yet.
Either way, she doesn’t have much time to think about it right now. When Blake sighs contentedly against her mouth, Pyrrha closes her eyes and forgets.
She’s staying here for as long as she can.