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Yang looks at herself in the mirror and messes with her jacket, adjusting it until it lies just right on her shoulders. She pulls her hair back, holding it the way it'd look if she wore it in a ponytail, then releases it, reassured by the familiar weight.
"Yang, c'mon!" Blake says, leaning in the doorway of their dorm. "We need to go now if we want to make it to the dance on time."
"Okay, okay," Yang replies, pretending his heart didn't skip a beat at his partner's voice.
Grinning, he strikes a pose in front of the mirror.
Atlas is huge. It's nothing like Patch or Vale. Yang should be overwhelmed, but instead part of him relishes the change of scenery.
Each street has some new, strange discovery: statues of obscure historical figures, crowds of strange people streaming in and out of massive buildings, tiny eclectic stores with owners more quirky than even From Dust Till Dawn's shopkeep could hold a candle to.
Yang could never settle down here, but she wishes she were visiting at a better time. She could roam through the streets and poke her head in every strange place that caught her eye.
Joanna is quietly confident. Yang sits next to her and mirrors her posture, crossing his arms in front of his chest.
The rest of the Huntresses and Yang's friends and family are chatting excitedly. Robyn and Blake are talking at one end. Robyn pushes her hair back with one hand, a soft smile on her face, and out of the corner of her eye Yang can see Joanna looking intently at her leader.
She's like me. The thought rises to the top of Yang's brain without her even needing to think it. It brings a little thrill to her chest.
Do I look like a girl?
It's not the first time Yang's wondered it. It started when she was a kid, before she even know being a girl was possible, back when all she knew was that she never wanted anyone to mess with her hair.
She looks at herself in the mirror. Her golden locks flow messily down her back. She looks — not masc, not like a man. She's old enough now to know she's not entirely a girl, she's something to the left, something with a little bit of "boy" in it too.
Yeah, I think I do.
Yang arranges her body on her bunk, hanging one leg off the edge. Her scroll is in her hands, a long thread of messages from the rest of Team RWBY pulled up. A selfie from Ruby, immediately followed by a blurry zoomed-in photo of Weiss. Blake's hand, petting a stray cat. One of Weiss' fingers, then Weiss' palm nearly covering the camera.
Yang laughs. He holds the scroll above his head and sticks out his tongue, hitting the camera button as he does.
He presses send and grins at the reactions: a purple heart emoji from Blake and a selfie from Weiss, a stern expression on her face, Ruby leaning over her shoulder and sticking her tongue out too.
Yang's hand tingles where Blake touched it. Dancing with her is exhilarating. He can't believe he ever lived without this feeling, heat racing through his whole body all night.
The buzz isn't leaving his body, at least not yet. Every glance from Blake reinvigorates it. Yang probably looks like an idiot, leaning in to her every word, but he can't make himself care.
Dad had said something about this once. About how he'd known he loved Mom — that she was "the one", whatever that meant — deep in his heart.
Is Blake "the one"? Yang catches her eye, and Blake grins. Despite everything she's been through, she looks so carefree. And Yang's the one who gave that to her, who gets to see her unrestrained smiles.
"I'm going to paint your nails," Weiss says, and Yang has no choice but to agree.
"Why now?" he asks as she runs the tiny brush over his thumb, even though it's already too late to stop.
Weiss frowns, visibly trying to pick the right words to say. "Because... I wanted to spend time with you?"
"We spend plenty of time together!" Yang laughs.
"Yeah, well," Weiss sputters, "I wanted to have girl time! With you!"
Yang looks down at the purple polish Weiss is carefully applying. It matches the fabric Yang has tied around her leg.
"Well," she says, "it looks like you've successfully varnished my agenda."