Chapter 12: Fuck You

Blake Belladonna

It is difficult to stop looking at the clock. Most everyone did that at work, but as Coco kept drilling into her head, she wasn't at work. That didn't stop her from finding herself something to do, much to Velvet's dismay. A quick drink pick up, helping with the register when the new guy screwed it over, collecting orders for Port back in the kitchen, the poor man covered in so much grease he could slide instead of walking. There was plenty to do, and Blake needed it.

"Fox, I need three pints of Guinness, please!" Blake called out, waiting for the drinks at the bar. The whole festival had lacked last year's splendor, despite being a fraction of the work. Blake had gone out to see the burnings with Velvet, but that never took her mind away from the Vytal Kick Boxing Championships, and what came after. She knew she shouldn't care, but it made her sick and fried her nerves knowing exactly what Yang was going to do when she won. Replace one target with another, Blake with Pyrrha, and she couldn't help but wonder if they would spend the weekend in the same way. That made Blake feel empty, but not knowing whether Pyrrha said yes or not was killing her.

"No, you are not working, Blake. I told ya this once, I did." Ice cold metal snapped against Blake's wrist, alerting her that Coco wasn't a liar. She really did it, she actually handcuffed the overworked girl right to the bar stool. It didn't prevent her from leaving so much as insured that wherever Blake went the barstool would follow, but damn if she did not have to give the girl credit.

"Coco, come on, let me go. I'm just helping," Blake argued, shaking the wrist trap, wondering if it was real or a sex toy and if she really wanted it to be one or the other.

"I don't need your help. I got the new Chinese, er, Tibetan guy? Anyways, you seen the bastard?! Didn't even know they made them in that size! God damn, with some training he'll be worth three of you lot." Yatsuhashi had been a really rare hire, hard to find workers that were young, fit, spoke English, and preferably didn't go to the college. He excelled in all these categories, especially the whole being fit thing. Quiet guy looked like he tossed cars around for a living.

"I'm fine," Blake grumbled, not really answering her question. She was more focused on how to serve drinks carrying a metal frame around. Perhaps resting the drink on it? No... maybe.

"So are we. It's late, people are thinning out now. Half of your mates have gone home, same with the sailors. We can do this. You got one of the cutest little dates for the night wanting you to talk her up and buy her a drink, eh? How about you do it!?" Coco pointed to Velvet, sitting at the college table with only Ren, Nora, and Jaune to keep her company. Ruby fell asleep drunk, and after Weiss and Penny argued over who should have the job of bringing her home, Coco settled it by calling all three a cab, putting it on Yang's tab. God, that redhead keep pulling in the crazies. Still, Blake didn't like the way Coco was talking. She always got so uppity with the subject of Velvet, making a pet project out of her happiness.

"Stop making it weird, Coco. Velvet's a good friend," Blake muttered with a sigh, knowing full well there was a blurred line between them. It was up to argument whether their night together was suppose to be a date. Blake didn't think so at the time, but her dorm mate seemed in between. It stupidly made her feel like a cheater, as if she owed Yang anything. "When do you think Yang's getting here? The Championship was over hours ago."

"Blake, did you look at the results?" Coco asked, intent shielded from Blake's gaze by a pair of dark sunglasses. Didn't really matter when it came to results, Yang would win, she always did, but how beat up would she be when she came back? That was what haunted Blake about fights.

"No," Blake admitted. Yang never liked people she knew coming to her matches or worrying about if she won or not. She said it didn't look cool. Really, Blake thought she just wanted not to feel pressure. If only that girl didn't hide everything behind a tough persona and perfectly practiced smiles. Some people kept others away with a scowl, she did it just as well with a grin

"You should check it," Coco mumbled, unlocking the cuffs on Blake's risk, "Now stop thinking about Yang."

"I'm not!" Blake shouted back, free but irritated. She wasn't going to follow this feeling anymore, she had decided a year ago Yang wasn't right for her. Coco needed to stop trying to force thoughts of her into Blake's mind. Still, she wasn't completely wrong. Velvet, under whatever pretense, was the one tonight was suppose to be spent with. It was time to shine and make up for being a bad...whatever she was tonight.

"Two light beers, Fox, your choice, on my tab please." He poured them silently and wrote nothing down. Blake supposed that was her payment for tonight's work. Not needing a tray for two glasses, slithering her way through the thinner crowed to the raised college area. Velvet lit up seeing Blake on her way and she found it easy to smile back.

"Hey, sorry for not being attentive," Blake apologized, sliding one of her two matching mystery beers to Coco. They could use a slightly less heavy handed drink if they wanted to continue any longer, the rosey color on Velvet's face starting to show that they were getting more than their feet wet with the alcohol. "How's this for an apology?"

"Not bad," Velvet replied with a smile, picking up her glass, "Shall we toast?"

"What to?"

"New choices," she said with a smile. Blake nodded in agreement.

"To new choices!"

Roaring burst into the bar as the doors were bashed open, a new crowd pouring in, laughing and joking in Spanish. Some men and women in suits, but more were young girls in assorted loose fitting clothes, most with no make up in the slightest, and Blake noticed, plenty with bruises. These were the kickboxing tourney girls, and of course leading the parade was Yang with her arm over Pyrrha, each dressed in tank tops sporting personal iconography and gym shorts, not the most fashionable, sickeningly close to each other. Things went well of course. Suddenly Blake forgot all about Velvet, or anyone else. Eyes locked on the two, only made self aware when a creaking came from her cheap fake glass cup, the plastic warping as she crushed it. Calm down.

"Good evening, everyone! Everyone say hello to your Champion!" Yang shouted with a smile, voice a touch slurred. She was at least a little hammered, figured why they took so long, likely bar hopping. She could have at least texted Blake she won, that she was fine, not to wait, tell her she got her new fuck buddy and that everything was okay and last year could go on fucking repeat again with the new girl. Egotistical little bitch. "Pyrrha Nikos!"

What?!

"The new Vytal Festival champion! Saved our college's glory, so make sure every one of you bastards give her a beer, you hear me!?" Yang always won. Infact all last year, no matter how beat up she had ever gotten, not once had Blake seen Yang lose. It was the impossible. She had been the Vytal champion since the year she could enter. Blake had watched them spar. Pyrrha was good, but not that good.

"Blake, don't. Sit down with me, huh?" Velvet begged, but Blake just stared below dumbfounded.

"I'm sorry, I'll be right back." There was no way, Blake had to have been way too drunk, there had to be something to explain this. Almost in a dream state she marched over to her old best friend,the blonde's eye twinkling as soon as she saw her approach.

"There's my Blakey! Buddy, come give me a hug!" Yang charged at her, near tripping as the boxer's full body weight landed on Blake, embracing her and nearly crushing her all at once.

"Uhh, hi, Blake!" Pyrrha called out, sober as it got and very awkward being dragged around by the heavy partiers. Maybe there was more to it. Was the way Yang lunged at Blake making her awkward? What had happened between them? Unable to form a coherent reply, Pyrrha cut in for Blake. "I'm going to talk to Jaune now, sorry!"

She separated from the two of them, but Yang remained, head notoriously heavy on Blake's collar. The woman was intoxicating, a poison that seeped into her skin with every touch, and before long it would kill her resolve. In desperation, not desire, Blake pushed her off, "Yang, what happened? You're way too drunk!"

"I had to go celebrate!" Yang's eyes, they were ringed in horrible red, bloodshot and pain laced between her lilac irises. Still, she was smiling so wide, it was terrifying. "We got a new champion in the club, Blake!" They already had a champion.

"Pyrrha beat you?" There was no nicer way to ask it, not while Blake's head was still swimming and this night remained a paradox.

"Nope!" Yang was laughing, mocking sort of laughter, "I came in third! Get this, a tiny little American half pint named Neo fucking wrecked me! She didn't even throw a punch! Put me in a hold! I lost from a hold! Fox, get me a Strawberry Sunrise with double vodka, please!"

"Don't," Blake ordered, seeing Yang was well past her limit. "How did Pyrrha win then? She's not as good as you." Every practice, Yang would beat her down. Pyrrha couldn't outmatch her tenacity. It didn't make sense. Nothing made sense.

"She's better than me. I hit harder, but it doesn't matter. Neo couldn't get her in a hold and she won. She's untouchable," Yang said the words, longing for something. Was it envy of her skill? Yang was never envious of anyone. Was it longing for the girl herself? Had Yang been refused? The thought of her being rejected made Blake happy, but quickly ashamed of herself.

"Did you ask out Pyrrha?" Blake needed to know, not just for herself, but for Yang. Whatever bitterness she felt, this was still her friend, one she couldn't escape.

"I said I'd ask her out after I won. I didn't." Yang stopped smiling, the mask was breaking, Blake had never seen it shatter before. It was frightening in a way. "Plus I don't think I'm her type." The blonde pointed toward the new champion. She was laughing politely next to the French boy, he was talking casually to her. The two of them seemed so close. "Better a wallflower than a loser," Blake jumped as the sound of Yang's fist smashing the wooden top of the bar, "Fox, the drink, please."

"No, Fox," Blake cut off. The older bartender paused in confusion. She didn't need more drinks, but what she did, whatever it was, it was in question whether anyone could get it. Pride dashed didn't come back at the end of the bottle. "Yang, you are not a loser." She could train, work on her hold breaks, focus less on strikes. She could win back the belt easy.

"I can't even get you to stop hating me! What else can I be, huh?" Yang shouted tongue twisting between English and Spanish, "Fox, please, my drink!" She was so angry, those violet eyes bursting red with her bloodshot fury.

"What?" Blake was lost. It was getting so hard to think. She regretted every drink tonight, maybe sober it would have made more sense, maybe she wouldn't stand there baffled. "I don't hate you."

"Then forgive me, be what we use to, tell me I'm not a fuck up! Tell me how amazing I am again, that I can do it again. Stop leaving me alone because I still love you!" Everyone was staring, and Blake began to put the pieces together. The answer made her much more angry than understanding. Blake clenched her teeth, nails biting into the palms of her skin. "Fine! Same shit as always, huh Blake? Fucking hide until I pretend nothing happened again. I'm done!" Yang announced to the whole bar before storming out, near knocking out a patron on her way. Blake launched after her, done with hiding. Velvet and Coco were yelling after them, but outside Blake went. Ash was still in the air, the night crowd diminished to near nothing. Yang's bike was out, likely dragged with her on their bar hopping adventure.

"Where the hell do you think you're going!?" Yang turned around at the sound of Blake's voice, shocked from the looks of it to hear the latter come for the former. She was never going to let that girl drive home drunk like she was, and sure as hell not like that. Blake might hide, but not this time. Not when Yang tried to put a buck shot through her heart again. "You were the one, you know! You fucking called it off, just like I knew you would!"

"What?" Whatever joy came in this chase was sapped as Yang realized what she meant to tell her. The truth.

"I loved you, I still do, but I didn't want to be another one of your play things you fuck and forget like the others. I ran away because I knew you were going to do it, and guess what? You did! Remember? 'Just forget about it, Blake, I was getting ahead of myself, Blake', all those excuses to cover up the fact that you just got what you wanted and ran off!" Blake knew what Yang's type did, no different than the boys before her. They used her all they wanted, never seeing her. Took what they wanted and left her astray. "Now Pyrrha was the next target, next girl for you to fuck during the Vytal festival then abandon!" A year full of hurt poured out and Blake didn't even notice the hot tears that were dripping down her face, or the crowd. Velvet was hearing, and just then Blake realized this would hurt her, too.

Yang was shocked, the night lights coloring her in neon, golden hair like the sun's light at dawn. She was beautiful, and approaching. For one mad drunken second, Blake thought maybe something got through to Yang and she stepped closer, that maybe she would understand, sweep her off her feet, kiss the young girl and finally give her a place to be. Yang was close, Yang was crying. Blake stepped towards her, thinking finally this could be fixed.

Then she fell. Yang's strong arms pushed her down hard, the thud on the floor painful, but more confusing than damaging. The golden girl stood alone, despite the push looking weaker than she had ever seemed before. "Fuck you!" she whispered, all manner of liquids dripping from her cheek. Blake had never seen Yang cry before.

"I have never told anyone, anyone besides my family, that I loved them. No one but you! I've never lied, I've never cheated, I've never played with anyone like that! I'm sorry I shoved you, but I'm not sorry for how I live, I'm not sorry that I loved you. You ran, you ran away for two weeks, Blake! Without a word, you pretended it was fine and hid from me, so afraid I would ditch you while you fucking ditched me! I tried so hard to make you believe it never happened so you wouldn't hate me! I'm so sorry I pushed you, I'm so sorry I tried to feel like someone could love me again, but no! You abandoned me!"

This didn't make sense. Blake stared in bafflement as Yang kept rambling on, at this point unintelligibly between slurs, the gears of her mind locking up, too much to take in. Velvet was lifting her up, and quickly she found her footing again. Not sure what to say or what to think, Blake only tried to reach out. Yang stepped out of the way when her hand nearly reached.

"I shouldn't have shoved you," Yang repeated, just when Blake had forgotten it even happened. "I'll go away!" Without clarifying what that meant, the drunk girl turned around and bolted away to her bike, the bumblebee roaring to life in a snap. Coco tried to stop her, and Blake called out something, but no one could prevent it. Firing away into the empty street, the rear lights blurring as it gained distance, leaving Blake with the profound stupidity and regret.

Whatever happened, Blake made a commitment to herself. No matter what, they would talk again, once sober, once they were both whole again. She wasn't going to let it go, whatever truth they were getting close to.

She couldn't run from this, she had tried for a year, but the tears proved there was no hiding from this miasma.

Yang Xiao Long

Last year's Vytal festival was the best night of Yang's life. She felt like it should have been the day her parents got back together, or when she first met little baby Ruby, but it wasn't. The best night of her life was covered in neon and fireworks, a woman in black with eyes made of gold, the title of champion, and enough alcohol to free both of them from their indecisive prisons.

A year ago on this day, the two of them spend all that evening partying, after all, together they had worked so hard to win the kickboxing tournament, prove that Yang Xiao Long was not a flash in the pan, but a real winner and damn, she felt like one after that win. Sore and bruised she remembered picking up Blake bridal style, her club manager and the best thing in her life at the time. Yang had fallen hard for her, that black silken Italian hair, the way she walked like a villainess, the way she cared for Yang after the strikes landed. How could she not? Yet Yang always thought she was straight, hearing mention of an ex-boyfriend. It took victory and alcohol to change that. Yang could remember perfectly. Three thirty-four in the morning, she asked if Blake wanted to stay in the city, together, one cheap motel. She said yes, and Yang kissed her for it.

Giggling they found a nice place that Friday night. Yang spent half her winnings on two nights, but she didn't care. Neither of them said it but they both knew they weren't leaving that room for a moment. It was four twenty when they first laid in bed together, naked and whole. It was intense, not in the kinky way, after all there had been girls and boys far more kinked out than Blake in her life, but this was that love making bullshit they talked about in books. The whole event took on another life, and Yang couldn't keep herself away. Sun rose before they stopped, the two of them passed out together in a nude beautiful mess.

They never left. Next day was just a beautiful. More winnings were spent getting food and wine delivered, a whimsical day full of more kissing, touching, eating pizza, laughing as they watched prepaid movies, and a porno at one point before finding it more comical than sexy. They shared more of themselves that night, talking about childhood, how Blake missed Venice, how Yang missed her sister. They had no shame together, never clothes, it was as pristine as some sort of hotel Garden of Eden before anyone was dumb enough to eat a stupid apple. By late they started sharing their dark sides. Yang's pleasure in pain, from biting hard, scratches, or sometimes being smacked. Blake showed her how she liked to be "tied up" the knots specifically designed to be easy to break out of if she needed to, but it was like a game. Despite the stigma these things had in society, that night it felt clean. There was no shame together.

It was that night Yang made her mistake, when all the fun was had and they just lay together, wrapped up, and mumbling about their dreams. "I love you," Yang whispered. She knew that she was heard, but Blake said nothing. At the time it felt like Blake just needed to absorb it more. She could reply in the morning. That was a mistake.

When morning came Blake was quick to get ready, she had work, which was true, though Yang begged her to call it off. She refused, distant in hindsight, but Yang was high off two nights of bliss. She never noticed it was weird that Blake stopped touching her, that she didn't kiss her as she departed, that she said "goodbye", not "see you later, babe." There was no shame when they were together, but plenty now, and fear after that morning.

Blake avoided Yang, blatantly running away, hiding in the back at work. She refused hugs, kisses, words. They barely spoke for two weeks, and all the students seemed to know why and no one would tell Yang a thing. She was terrified. Convinced Blake wanted a night not a girlfriend, convinced if she didn't do something her best friend, the first person she ever loved would be lost to her, Yang did something else stupid.

Blake for the first time asked to talk to her, and Yang panicked. Believing this was the end, she ended it first. Said how she was sorry Blake felt pressured, and that she was sorry she made it weird. Said how she was over it and Blake didn't have to run away from her anymore, it was cool she moved on and it was all right. It seemed to work, and they were friends again. Such a stupid, stupid mistake.

Tonight, Yang was alone. The cold air dragging at her as she cut her way through the streets, vibrant bumblebee obeying her sweetly as she navigated out of town. Away from Blake who had ripped out her fucking heart, away from this festival that stole her pride, away from the school that was going nowhere. Off to go home, face her parents without anything left to claim as her own. No talent, no dreams, nothing but the moment, and the moment sucked.

Bumblebee was moving too fast, well over the limit, or maybe it was the drinking, adding a swerve to her turns, and a dangerous touch to the drive. It was stupid of her, and despite swearing frequently never to drive drunk, Yang felt confident she could make it, but more than that, apathetic if she didn't.

Slipping into the mountain, the thought of sliding off the cliff was almost funny. It would be a pretty night to disappear, the ocean in sight, the town bright like a carnival, a giant citywide goodbye party for her. Yang giggled at the whim, feeling more alive at the thought than she had all day. It made her cry and that was funny, somehow funny to her drunken mind. A car light was in the distance, its high beams like torches in the depth of darkness.

An amusing idea came to mind, one that made Yang's heart beat harder. She could make it, drunk, but still Yang. All the reflex practice. She could do it. She could nail it. The light came closer and the game started. How far could they come. Yang waited, staying right on her lane line. The left just a half meter away. The car was coming, it was time for the gambit.

She turned into the left lane.

The car didn't have time to react, but Yang did. Swerved to the left, they had to have been within ten meters of each other, a half second from a crash, before Yang swerved left again, smashing as safely as one could smash into the embankment.

Yang let herself fall off, the drunken state keeping her relaxed as she landed on her shoulder, sliding on the back of her leather rider's jacket, ripping up against the dirt so the girl's tan skin wouldn't have to. The helmet protected her head and the coursing booze dulled the pain, but damn her heart was pounding. Her clothes torn, body on the floor, unable to feel the cuts on her exposed leg and arms, thankful she had slowed down, thankful she had won her stupid gambit, she just died laughing. The car never stopped, rushing away in the panic, but Yang didn't intend to call the cops. She let herself enjoy the moment. That was fun, that was a thrill. What the fuck was wrong with her?

Bumblebee was scratched to hell, though mostly undamaged. Still, she wasn't in any state to drive her, for all she knew the crash against the embankment could have caused a fuel leak and starting it could cause some sort of horrible explosion. Either way, when Yang found the strength to stand, her left leg screaming at her for attempting, she began a walk.

Calling an ambulance was off limits, drunk driving a serious crime and as far as Yang could tell her own injuries weren't that bad. Her jacket was ruined, helmet and exposed legs scratched to shit, trickling lightly of blood, but nothing that couldn't heal in a day. The cold dulled her that night, as she passed the old church, thinking of when Blake and her spent sweet moments together there, the plaza she grew up playing in, the town that at five in the morning was still dead asleep. Sun had not risen yet, and in the cover of darkness Yang could limp her way with Bumblebee for what had to have been an hour before she reached the yard, a familiar stone fence, and silent tower like house. The stairs to her bedroom was going to be a bitch.

Yang slid Bumblebee, the poor girl beat to hell, right into its little resting place. She didn't lock it up, despite the near death experience sobering her up quite a bit, she was just too tired.

The short pathway to the door felt like a colossal endeavour, each step revealing a new ache she hadn't noticed yet. Like how thirst worsened with the sight of water, exhaustion deepened with the sight of home.

As if blessing her, the door opened unlocked, darkness meeting her, not the warm reception home normally was. Or maybe it was. In the dark, on the foyer steps by the door, bundled in a red little cloak, a sweet sleeping child. Ruby. Was she waiting for her sister? Why didn't dad send her to sleep? Did she fight to stay up, make sure Yang came through the door safe? What an idiot, she was so stupid.

"How could I be so stupid," Yang mumbled. Throwing her life at risk like that. Ruby just lost her mom. What the hell was she thinking? Her baby sister needed her still, right? Someone needed her.

Yang lowered down, caf near going into full spasm as she squatted to pick up her sister, strong arms sliding under the redhead's much smaller form. The girl fussed a little, but the body wouldn't give, no matter how much Yang struggled. Her legs wouldn't carry them both,

"You can't lift anyone in that condition," Mama spoke in her perfect whispered Spanish. Yang didn't even think about where she came from, in all these years her mother had the talent of appearing and disappearing into the aether whenever Yang was in, or getting into, trouble.

"Is that a challenge?" Pulling harder, Ruby wasn't going to budge, "least I get to keep the streak going!"

"Yang," her mother rumbled.

"Yeah, my match was pretty brutal," Yang relinquished with a pained laugh, quick to lie. She was never the most honest kid, but what could she say. Oh mom, yeah I nearly caused a car crash 'cause I felt shitty and needed an adrenaline rush to make me feel like I'm in control of anything in my life!

"You don't get cuts like that fighting." Mama didn't call her a liar, though she stepped down with a look that said she knew. They shared so much of each other, same face, same gold hair, same violet eyes. They were mirrors. "You're crying."

"Pfft, no, that's dumb." Yang started as soon as she saw Ruby at the door. "Look Mama, I just crashed into the embankment on the way. I'm fine."

"You're drunk?" she asked. She didn't sound mad, probably wasn't, just disappointed as always. Who wouldn't be? Yang wasn't even the top fighter anymore, she was just a vagabond.

"Not anymore," Yang punctuated with a chuckle.

"I'll drive you to the hospital. Let me get my keys," she turned away back in the darkness of the house, without saying Yang was grounded, or a shitty kid. Yang was sure she felt it, but not saying that made the rather beat up girl happy to have her as a mom.

"Please, no. It looks worse than it is. I promise I'm okay. No concussion, nothing, please I just want to sleep. It's been a day," Yang had never been close to her mom, or really anyone, but she trusted her, had to this time, "Please."

"Mija," mine, Yang was her daughter after all. "Let me bandage you up." Yang nodded, and before she could manage a word, her mother held her, tight. Hugged her like they hadn't in such a long time. Yang missed it.

"Okay," Yang agreed, for both of them. Mama would be gentle, she would look after the golden girl. When tomorrow came they would talk, no way she could lie to her any more. "But only because I'm the best daughter in the world and you know it." They both laughed. That felt good.

Vytal was finally over.

*** wowsers, so if this chapter was a little intense for you, this is about as bad as it's ever going to get in Choice, not to say there isn't any drama later, but I think this is probably going to be the most consistently emotionally negative chapter. Of course I do not condone drunk driving under any circumstance, nor anything as physically aggressive as a shove, or slut shaming. These are meant to be explicitly unhealthy behaviors!

This one was hard to write I think for obvious reasons, but I'm happy to finally get over it. I hope you guys enjoy it even if its not nearly as light hearted as the other chapters. I promise things will get back to light hearted, or at least a mix. Definitely less cursing!

I want to thank LazyKatze on her return to my team, you have no idea how much I missed you you beautiful person! 333