Chapter 18: Coffee with Strangers

Blake Belladonna

"I could do your shift," Blake offered over the counter towards the conversation Fox and Coco were failing to have discretely. The young Spanish waiter lit up bright with a smile, but the manager's groan cut him right short. Behind sunglasses, black as the pit of her vengeful soul, Blake knew she had upset a demon.

"Like hell you will! You have too many hours already, I won't be paying you overtime!" Blake figured it was approaching that. Ever since the Vytal Festival it was nothing but begging, pleading for hours. It wasn't even the money, it was just the work. The plodding monotony that demanded all her focus and time. She could pour beers for others instead of needing one for herself. Think about patrons' orders not the strength of Yang's borders. Mr. Port had taken to these requests well, giving her hours she could only ever dream of, topping over 40 weekly. He paid her with a jolly smile, but Blake's manager did not share her father's pleasant view of this new workaholic lifestyle. Even though it seemed like those sunglasses should make her blind in this light, Coco seemed to see right through Blake.

"You don't need to pay me overtime, it's not like I'm going to file a complaint against you if you don't," Blake argued, not caring much about the money. Working without stop had built her a decent savings in a short span and lived with a lack of free time to spend it on much of anything.

"Oh, I should say so!" Coco lied as it was her custom, brushing the colored twirl of hair behind her ear as she did. "Committing a crime to give you more hours, nothing morally or responsibly bankrupt about that idea, don't you agree, Velvet?"

The usually quiet and calmly tempered Australian roommate nodded her head in agreement. The pair had formed into a team of worrywarts and nosy Nancies, unhinging Blake's beloved and barely benign borderline self-destruction. "Blake, you can't keep doing this. You hardly rest, and don't lie about it, we sleep in the same room."

Blake just twitched behind the bar bench, hands stalling in their task to wash the wood. She knew her expression was giving Velvet an unfair grimace, the girl was just trying to be reasonable, to pull Blake out of her self-imposed exile. One issue, she was not done dancing in the dark. "So I read a lot. I was always nocturnal, Velvet. I work in a god damn bar after all! At twenty I don't need you babysitting me. I got this."

"It's not a bar, it's a pub," Coco grumbled back, tensing up immediately. This was some insult apparently, though Blake in all her life of travels and adventures, could not honestly fathom the difference.

Jaune approached the heavy gathering with no sense of subtly, hands in his blue jeans, a surprisingly muscular guy hidden under his white-yellow striped shirt and a meek disposition. He was going to get eaten alive. "Coco, I was hoping you could—"

"Lad, you need to sit right back down, you know?" the manager muttered just loud enough to send a shiver down the pub's wooden spine. Jaune stood still, afraid motion would excite whatever eyes hid behind those dark glasses. Blake was the only one unafraid, and she saw an opportunity.

"What's wrong, Coco, you have a patron? We're both on the clock, aren't we?" Blake spun her web, casting her in a shell of a commitment. The brunette clenched her jaw tight, like she had Blake's head between her teeth. This would end badly later, but for now, it was a shot towards freedom.

"Fine," Coco muttered, fixing her beret so as not to admit defeat in a state less than positively fabulous, "Both of you get to work, and Fox, you sit right still. Blake's not taking your shift. Got it?" Fox sweat, Jaune shook, and Blake chuckled, silently of course. She enjoyed what victories she could get.

"If you're working, can I get a Coca-Cola?" Velvet's familiar voice pulled Blake away from her momentary win, an unpleasant reminder that for every friend she shook off, another person cared too damn much.

"Yeah, of course," Blake replied, pulling a glass bottle from underneath the bar and popping the top off in one swift motion. Honestly, there was no staying angry with Velvet. She was sweet and, dressed in a brown hoodie and a little skirt with warm leggings, she looked like a petite bunny just trying to do what's right. There was no kicking her way. She was and always would be someone Blake never treated quite the way she deserved.

"Blake, I don't know how to say it any other way, but I'm worried about you." Velvet was never one for beating around bushes, she hopped right into the subject, her cool headed voice softly hit the mark. "I don't understand. You wanted to put some space between yourself and Yang, now that she's left. It's like she took you with her." Velvet certainly did hit that mark, even if in a more unfortunate manner than the young girl had hoped. Yang's shroud of heart entrapping air was suppose to go away when she did. Instead, when the miasma cleared and left her in the street, butt on the pavement, hand on her chest, but no heart beating beneath, the feeling didn't change. This was not the plan.

"I thought," Blake started, not really knowing where the truth sat, "I thought it was what I wanted, but I feel like. I feel like I missed something. There is like a solid mass weighing down on my stomach, and it won't go away till I do something. I can't till she's back. So for now I work."

"There is more to your life than Yang," Velvet offered, reaching her hand out, warming to Blake. The touch was nice, friendly, not even demanding, but there was another note to that. More than an innocent statement. A hope Velvet held far too long and Blake ignored way too much. She was right, life was way too big to be all about Yang, even if she felt like it all the time. Velvet just wasn't the right piece to fit that same space.

"And there should be so much more to your life than me," Blake countered, grabbing back on her friend's hands. Velvet got the message, her eyes watered, and tears calmly traced down her pale cheeks. "I'm sorry Velv, don't wait for me to be better. Be happy," Blake added, squeezing that hand, pulling Velvet back to their world. She shook a little, emotions running hard in her body.

"I don't know how when you're miserable," she answered one of the conversation's dual meanings. Even if it was from the wrong person, Blake felt a great deal of warmth knowing someone cared about her so immensely.

"I'll be okay. I really have been through worse. Velv, I promise I'll be okay." Blake believed that. As dark and intense as these things are, one day Yang would be back. They would face whatever ruined them, and if she got her heart broken, Blake would live the stray life again. It wasn't impossible. "How about if sometime we binge watch an anime of your choice, just to give us both much needed rest?" It wouldn't be as good as work, but it would be something for them both.

"Okay," Velvet muttered, hiding the tiniest of sobs. Their hands departed and a comfortable silence replaced the tense conversation for a brief moment, giving the brunette time to dry her eyes. "But I'm going to pick something dumb and cheesy and you are going to hate me," Velvet joked, making both of them crack a genuine smile.

"I've seen K-On!, there is nothing you can put me through that I have not already done to myself." The proper air filled the room, Blake got to mixing a drink that was needed, Coco was coming back to chew everyone in the pub out in a moment, all things were normal.

Then Yang Xiao Long walked through the door.

No one said anything, but sure as hell anyone that was there that night stopped and turned to look, petrified by her gaze. Unable or unwilling to be awkward, that beautiful golden girl struck a small pose leaning against the doorway with a smile. "Hey guys."

Yang was beautiful. Whatever scars from the crash Ruby had mentioned were gone, her skin retaining its slightly tan and cruelly perfect complexion. Of course she dressed beautifully as well, dark tan jacket with rolled up sleeves that showed off the chest the way she liked to, dark black short skirt that matched her dark black leggings. The added touch of leather fingerless gloves were both fashion and evidence of her own ride. Of course her blonde locks were long and unchecked, of course she walked in like she owned the place, of course her velvet eyes traveled the short distance to Blake, of course she began to walk that way, and of course Blake could breath again. Breathe in that thick miasmic want.

"Blake, you're getting those hours you wanted so badly. Fox you're clocked in, starting now, Blake you're off and taking that shift. Even." No one was arguing with Coco, Blake was barely paying attention to her. Yang was coming her way, swaying her hips back and forth in a hypnotizing and harmonic metronome. "Fox, get behind that bar and Blake, get the hell out!" Coco shouted, snapping both of them awake. Fox jumped to the other side, sliding over the top. Blake tried not to look hurried, lifting the bar and walking out without a rush. She was already feeling self conscious, aware she was just in black jeans, a white dress shirt, but nothing snappy, nothing that might distract from the tired bags under her eyes.

"Hey, Blake." Yang was on them before Blake could even think to worry if her makeup wasn't a lazy mess from this morning. She froze as Yang stopped only a few feet infront of her, smiling, arms down, non-threatening. Blake could not mutter a reply.

"She's off, so you know," Coco answered for her. Yang smiled hearing that, Coco did as well. Velvet stayed away and the rest of the college corner awaited something, evidence that they were allowed to dismiss for the day without missing a touch of drama.

"Where the hell did you go?" Blake surprised herself once she actually found some words to say. Harsh, but true to her. The question that haunted her still. Velvet had no answers, Ruby had no answers, not even Taiyang, or at least nothing he would say.

"Somewhere else," Yang muttered, a little taken aback by the directness of Blake's question. It was intense in a way that contained some distant familiarity, the way they use to speak a year ago. "I checked out, I guess, traveled for a bit. Blake?" Yang seemed to ask, though it lacked the core of a question.

"Yes?" Blake replied, unaware of what she wanted. The young bartender wanted this to reach some conclusion, some understanding. To finally clean out the mess last Vytal Festival revealed they were stewing in.

"Can we talk, like go get some coffee or something?" Yang seemed to contain herself, her attitude tempered a little by whatever stood between then and now. It was strange, how the golden girl was both her and decisively not. Like two people were taking up the one space. Going with her now would be paramount to coffee with strangers. Maybe that was what they needed to be at first. Maybe with so little understanding, they had always been.

"Coco sent me home for today," Blake answered without answering. Never quite able to drop her mask even when she wanted nothing more than to chase her through the streets.

"I was going to bust you out of here if she didn't," Yang joked with a smile, her lilac eyes animating in a subtle way, real way. Blake appreciated that she stared at her like that, more so that she didn't even seem to notice Pyrrha was here, and if she did, there was no lilac light for her.

"You would not have survived the attempt," Blake replied, trying her best not to smile. Yang did that brightly enough for the two of them.

"I might not be champion anymore, but neither is Coco," Yang countered, flexing an arm in a faux subtle way that only muscled idiots like her cared about. Well, Blake could appreciate those guns in a different way. Her strong limbs could hold like nothing else in their existence, and she could still remember how they felt.

"Yes, but she cheats," Blake continued the chain, happy for a moment, just to joke like they had before everything went to hell. A brief respite, but eyes were still watching, things still needed to be dragged into light, and they both could use doing that by themselves first. "I assume you have a place in mind?"

"Absolutely not," Yang mocked with a chuckle, divulging she was as unprepared as ever, "Didn't think you'd actually say yes, but hey. It's Spain. Cafés are matched only with bulls and flamenco dancers for our national exports."

"Yang, living here two years now I've never seen either bulls or flamenco dancers."

"But you will see a café." Yang thought she was cute, and she was. Unfortunately.

The walked to a suitable café lacked their usual jesting jabs and commentary. Leaving the pub a somber sort of quiet drifted between them. It was awkward, but not awful. Blake found silence a somewhat comforting companion, and as they walked together, passing other families, friends, couples, stores, and cafés, Yang was using this time to think, prepare just as much as Blake was.

It wasn't until Plaza de Mistral that Yang even began to slow down. Her steps ended outside the Greco-Roman statue, its spear pointed to the low hanging sun, head facing off to the sea. Its marble form almost reminded Blake of a masculine Pyrrha, but she forced those thoughts out of her head, turning away towards Yang whom studied the several competing cafés and restaurants that formed the plaza's stoned in edge.

"What do you think?" Yang asked as if it even mattered. She was still stalling like a kid.

"I think you need to stop delaying this," Blake knew to cut through Yang's bullshit. It wasn't out of malice, but two years together taught them both tricks of their opposing trades. "There is a shop a handful of meters from where you're standing, I think this place has about as good a coffee as any other."

"You're bossy," Yang shot back, half-heartedly. She knew better than to seriously bite back when Blake was right. "I just wanted to get you the perfect coffee, you want something subpar." Yang tried leaned herself against the stone base of the statue for support. The sun light casted her skin in bronze and colored her hair in thicker a glowing gold. Offensively pretty.

"You and I both know I prefer tea," Blake muttered, realizing she was going to have to make the first move if they were to ever get anywhere. "Here is good enough." Blake walked away knowing, or hoping, Yang would follow. Thankfully she did.

Blake was quick to find a seat under the shade of one of the café's many cabanas. Yang twirled her stool around backwards, laying her chest against the back, hugging it tightly. Half style, half defense. A young waitress with dyed auburn hair nodded to them as if to acknowledge their seating and that she would be with them soon. Neither of them moved to signal the woman back, eyes locked on each other, no feint disinterest, no shy shots towards the other building corners that encased the square or passersby on their late afternoon soirees. No, it was them.

"How do we start this?"

"I don't know, Yang."

"You're suppose to know things."

"If I knew everything we wouldn't be fighting." Punctuating with a groan, Blake leaned back, the conversation falling short of anything close to solving the issue ahead of them. Both struggled, tongues moving to say something, but never really forming anything strong enough for sound. Blake almost had a thought before the waitress interrupted, swiftly picking up their similar request for café con leche. Left in silence, both of them twitched in uncomfortably, playing with their fingers, tapping and sighing with unnatural frequency. Blake knew the ball was in her court.

Yet Yang spoke first. "Before anything else, I want to be clear on something that's still bugging me," Yang turned her head away from Blake, more ashamed than embarrassed, something the golden girl was definitely not accustomed to, or Blake for that matter, "That night. I pushed you. You crossed a lot of lines, but that wasn't okay. I should have never gotten to that point, and I'm sorry for that. Not for what I said, but for what I did." Blake hardly remembered that, it wasn't hard, it caught her off guard at the time, but even then she was far too focused on everything else. The thought Yang even cared about something as small as that made Blake crack a smile, only for a moment.

"Well, I'm sure my butt appreciates you regret the damage done, but it was hardly anything—"

"No, it was," Yang cut her off, sharp eyes deep purple, unwavering in its sincerity, "I'm bigger and stronger than you, a lot stronger. Getting physical with you isn't cool as is, but the power dynamic makes keeping my cool a must. No matter what relationship we have, if we have one, that won't be a part of it." Blake cringed at the way she said if, though that was far from the likely end to their coffee shop stop. Neither spoke immediately, their drinks arriving while they kept up mutual grimaces. Blake felt her throat dry up when she tried to reply, mixing the brown drink with sugar, she pressed it to her lips and tried to rid herself of that constraint.

"I appreciate that," simple, underwhelming, but true, "That's not the end of the conversation. I said some awful things to you. I'm a little more hung up on that. I don't think I fundamentally understand you the way I thought, Yang." Blake gave into the truth, knowing shadows simply wouldn't do. She kept composure, but her hard exterior had to loosen.

"I'm trying this 'being real' thing, I really am, and trust me this is not my way," Yang cut herself off with a chuckle, shaking her head in disbelief of herself, "But being real, I'm starting to think I don't fundamentally get all of me either, like, I know what's important to me. I know a lot more about the Yang I want to be than anything about the Yang I am. So I'm taking steps." She smiled with her mouth and frowned with her eyes. The golden girl's usual reservations being aired open, and normal exuberance restrained, Blake did not know how to handle this new her.

"Taking steps towards what?" Blake asked, holding her hands in her lap to keep from fidgeting, "Or are you just trying to get me to 'real' talk first?" Blake tried to smile, as subtle as her's were, to take the sting out of the joking accusation.

"Nah," Yang replied with her own, slightly more earnest grin, "I'm, after three years of college, about to be a freshman. I can't possibly be smart enough to trick you."

"Freshman?" Blake asked, tilting her head at the world, as if trying to digest it. "You're dropping your program? Yang, you have one more year!" They were going to graduate together, a thought that both excited and horrified Blake a year ago. She had plans, dreams to chance, and so did Yang. They would split apart, but at least for another year it would be them together. Not graduating with Yang was... it wasn't even a consideration.

"One more year, and what?" Yang asked rhetorically, "Work at a shitty restaurant, working like a dog so I don't starve? That's just working to keep on living, to keep on working. That's a hamster wheel, a hamster wheel that tastes and smells like fine cheese products, but a hamster wheel regardless."

"You're dropping out? For what? Kickboxing full time? You can't just do that!" Blake felt a rush of worry that always accompanied Yang's companionship. Thoughts slammed into her skull. Were there any championships around with liveable rewards? Could she afford the training? She didn't have any titles, would any sponsor sign her? Were there sponsors for female kickboxing in this country to begin with? Fear, fear that Yang would walk herself off the roof of the world chasing her thrills. Blake had quit team manager to get away from that fear, the worried twinge whenever Yang got struck, the panic whenever she gambled too much on a match. Blake quit team manager, but her worried feelings never quit her.

"I'm not," Yang replied, shaking Blake from her anxiety with the serious catch in the blonde girl's voice. "I'm going to try taking kickboxing more seriously, double down on training, retake my title next year and see if I can find some underground leagues in Compostela that might get me a name, but I'm not dropping out. I'm entering Pyrrha's program. I'll learn how to manage myself there, how to do this right. All that stuff applies to my dreams, but if I can't be champion, I can teach the next fighters. I know my style in and out, knowing how to run maybe a gym or a kickboxing school might help me find a way to merge what I want and what I can get," Yang breathed in, finalizing her speech and holding on the last bit, the real part. The motivation for all this change. "I don't like talking about this stuff, but I can't live my life without this, it's too much of me, it's the only thing that feels like me. My Tao, and without it being a part of me, I'm a husk. Alive, but not wanting to be. After I lost the match I felt like something integral to my very existence was stolen from me, a year after you walked away from me. I couldn't lose both, maybe one, but not both. Yet I did. Without either I died, then tried to die." Yang looked at her drink, not at Blake. She seemed so ashamed, so hateful of herself for admitting these things, it couldn't last. Yang smiled and Blake saw the joke coming. "Looks like Ruby will be my senior. You think she'll notice me?" Blake wanted to slap her.

"Yang, that night are you trying to say..." Blake couldn't finish the words too terrible to mutter first, "Please, never even—" Blake reached her hand out toward Yang's from over the table. Just before impact, before her fingers could run over the brawler's knuckles to reassure her it was all okay, Yang forced herself back, keeping away from the touch.

"Look, I'm not here to fight, but you don't get to care, stop, and care again, okay?!" Onlookers glanced at them, noticing Yang's reaction, but likely unable to understand their English. Her eyes hinted at fire and Blake withdrew, unable to retort the truth. "I don't want to hate you, but I haven't forgotten you, how you smashed my heart and then blamed me for it. I'm going to get my shit together, with or without you, but that doesn't wipe away everything either of us did, especially not you."

"Yang, I'm sorry, I'm not saying it excuses everything, but there is so much you don't understand," Blake explained without explaining. No one ever meant it when they said they loved her, why would Yang be the first? Why should she believe her? This was a liar's Earth, users and thieves. She found it hard to believe now, if she believed it at all, then. Yang gave her every reason to run away.

"Well, unlike you, I'm actually trying to understand!" Yang shouted, hands gripping the ends of the table, ready to crack it in half, "I want to get you. I was off to escape the world and the first place I ran to was your home. I went to Venice, trying to understand, trying to get you. I met Adam, I know what happened, and I know you ran away, but I'm not Adam! I don't get it Blake, make it make sense, please?"

"It's not just Adam!" His ghost would haunt her forever, but it wasn't just their nightly crimes that shaped the scared girl. There was a whole world out there to terrify her. "When I left for the Peace Corps, I thought I'd see a different world, and I saw a lot of good people making a difference, but you know what I saw more of in East Africa? Companies abusing the hope of the poor people, and the desperation of poor governments. I saw Weiss' little family logo on mines working people to death, hoping their kids would have some shot at a future. They never do, they're just used. I saw that it's all the same selfish work, and you know what? I'm the same. I joined to feel like I was doing something good! Why? Because I wanted to be clean again. Everyone wants something. Even you."

"Yeah," Yang never denied it, her eyes locked onto Blake, all the shouting was over. "I did, I do. I want to be happy, I wanted to be with you, and I did want you to be happy. I wanted that most of all. It's why I pretended for a year." Yang's eyes watered, but didn't drop. The fighter kept hard, desperate to not be taken as a joke, though no one was laughing. "I'm not any of those people, what I wanted was real, it wasn't bad. I'm not them Blake, I'm Yang Xiao Long." The lilac gaze finished for her, reminding Blake of who that was, what that meant. A girl that fought like hell, loved quick, but never dishonestly. It reminded her who Yang Xiao Long was.

"And I'm Blake Belladonna, and I'm so scared of being used by you," Blake lacked the compulsion to avoid tears, and they began to flow quietly with dignity, "because I know I can't stop you, not when you look at me like that." It was Yang's turn to move, reaching over slow, hand cupping Blake's tear stained cheek, thumb quick to brush away the forming drops before they ran loose.

"You don't need to be scared of me, I don't want to use you, I never did. I don't even know how. Did you forget I'm a stupid twenty year old freshman?" Yang's joke was coated with sweetness, her voice softening for comfort, hand staying right where it was so Blake could grasp it.

"You met Adam, I have a thing for idiots," Blake muttered, somehow able to smile together. It had been years since she said that name in a way that made her smile.

"You certainly know how to pick winners," Yang added, letting go and pulling away slowly. Blake snatched her hand on the way down.

"I do now," Blake squeezed Yang's hand, but felt it go slack and saw the golden girl lose her grin.

"We can't just restart like nothing happened," Yang reminded.

"And we can't just pretend we feel nothing anymore," Blake countered.

"We're two idiots lost in a forest."

"Then we should pick a direction and start walking," Blake breathed a sigh, letting go, of the pain, of the fear, just trying, "and I would like it best if we could walk together."

There was silence for a second, but Yang's grip returned with her sly smile. "Is Blake Belladonna asking me out on a date?" The golden girl loved to revel in victories.

"Well at least we know you can understand metaphors," Blake joked, letting it slide. She deserved this, "Saturday, I'll get it off somehow, we can get a few drinks. Do things properly this time." They deserved this.

"No banging in a hotel? I'm out of my natural element," they both breathed at the pause and for the first time, the miasma of Yang felt warm in Blake's lungs, "but I'll do my best." Letting go was hard, but hardly the hardest part of today. Their drinks were cold, the day ending. Night was starting soon, heavy clouds moving in, yet Blake found herself desperate for time. A few more moments.

"Now, tell me all about your trip."

Hours followed, rain began to pour, only pushing them to hide under the cabana for even longer. Yang had an army of stories about the places she had seen and touched, and Blake had a hunger to hear her talk, just for a while longer. They tore away only when Yang got a call to give Ruby a ride. Blake didn't fight that, Yang needed to be a big sister and the other girl needed to go home, a paper on whether or not Don Quixote was the first novel ever written needed to be taken out back and shot. After all that, they never even finished their drinks. Such a waste.

At arrival, the dorm was unusually still. The place was devoid of life, Velvet should have been back, but Blake predicted she was still getting plastered at the bar with Coco, probably a little heart broken. Jaune and Pyrrha must have been there as well, missing meant they were together. Penny also gone, or in her room. Only animate bodies Ren and Nora doing homework, or rather Ren doing homework and Nora collapsing on top of his lap like a needy dog. They were a cute pair.

What wasn't cute, was Blake's open dorm door. "Ren?" Blake asked, knowing the question spoke for itself. He looked up, a deep set worry on his face, one not matched by Nora.

"Weiss," Ren started, not shocking Blake in the least, "there was some crashing from her room, she walked out, saw Glynda, both of them grabbed something from your room. Glynda left, but Weiss is still in her room," Ren listed it all like a line of facts, uncomfortable selling out the German. Blake knew that besides Ruby, Ren was the closest to her, sharing some sort of kinship between walls. Whatever it was, Blake lacked the patience.

"Weiss Schnee!" Blake shouted as she knocked on the ice princess' dorm. Off and on they were arch enemies, as it seemed destined. The Schnee family was exactly the kind of people Blake devoted her life trying to stop. Yet, a daughter isn't the father. Ruby saw something after all.

"The door is unlocked. Open it yourself!" Blake didn't flinch from the strange responses, slamming the dorm room door wide open, ready to unleash a hailstorm. It appeared at first glance it would be the second one today. The room was wrecked, a shattered guitar was burst into pieces that had scattered across the floor, a dent in the corner from where the instrument was smashed against. Many of the precious notes and equipment the girl kept on her desk were thrown off, some of it had to be broken. The one monitor that didn't even make it to the floor was pushed against the back, screen shattered. Weiss' hand, wrapped up and sprinkled with red stains, suggested exactly who had done all of this. The girl herself was staring into an open first aid kit, tears running down her face as she made no attempt to hide them or give into a single sob or sniffle.

"Glynda said the first aid kit was stored in your room. I didn't take anything else if you've lost something." Weiss' voice was steady, but haggard, like she had exhausted her vocals of all but the most ragged of ranges. Blake was baffled.

"It's okay." And she decided it probably was. The door left open hardly seemed like a big deal right now. Seeing a Schnee crying, surrounded by broken things, didn't feel as rewarding as Blake thought it would be the day her father got fired from the glass blower factory. Now it felt sad, tragic considering Ruby absolutely had to have been involved. "What happened?"

"Dinner with my family, Ruby was invited. Went well, obviously." Weiss closed her eyes, a quake running through her as she resisted a sob. Alone in her chair. Blake didn't go to her, but she wouldn't leave, not right now.

"I'm sorry." That explained Yang's text, Blake noted, "Are things over between you two?" she offered, unsure of what else to give. Weiss's jaw clenched, her eyes opened up to show red rings and a fire inside.

"I don't know," Weiss admitted, hands clenching down, "But I'm not."

*** Before anyone asks, yes the title is a reference to the famous coffee with strangers. Thought it might be nice to pay a little nod to what is probably considered one of the rwby fanfic canon. Other than that there isn't too much to say about this one, hope you all enjoyed and let me know what you think, and of course thank you to Lazykatze for editing. She has an incredibly demanding course load, day job, sports, and all that can not and will not let her edit, yet she weasels her way into doing that in spite of literally everything.

In the original version of the Yang side story (also known as the 'Chosen' arch of choice) Yang was going end up with Pyrrha and Blake with Velvet, the two of them unable to reconcile the choices made before the series. This was changed during the first Blake chapter for three reasons. One Pyrrha and Velvet simply lacked the time in scene to be real fully featured characters. Two, the chosen arc was all about being forced to accept what choices led up to now and where to go from there, having them get back together in this way made felt more right. They do not deny the past, but aren't decided by it, a more healthy end. Lastly, I felt it would be more interesting to have Yang shut down by Pyrrha because of straightness, having something out of her control fit better for her breakdown.