Yang had first heard the news from the local television station. She didn't want to believe it was real, but it was hard not to face reality when it showed up to the doorstep of her apartment with a small bag of its things. There were traces of tears in her eyes, a sight so foreign that Yang would of sworn she was hallucinating. There was no mistaking Weiss, though. The hair, the scar – it couldn't have been anyone else.
"I was wondering if I could stay – with you – for a bit?" Her voice was thin, as if someone had rung the air from her lungs and was left struggling to catch her breath.
"Yeah, sure." Yang said, stepping aside. "Come on in."
In that moment, Weiss had never looked so small.
Schnee Corp had gone under hard. It was a complete and utter annihilation of the company's assets – and Weiss had been unlucky enough to deal with the brunt of the damages. Alone. Her father had fled, taken what there was to salvage and left his daughter to fend off the wolves. By the looks of things, she hadn't made it out with much besides a crumpled family photo and her clothes packed tight into a small bag.
Saying things were messy would have only made things worse and for once Yang kept her mouth shut. It had been quiet ever since Ruby and Blake had left, and in spite of circumstances, Yang would have been lying if she said she didn't welcome the company.
She gave Weiss Ruby's old room, although it wasn't much of surprise to find her curled up on the couch in the morning dressed in a stolen tee-shirt and shorts. They were much too big for her and she seemed lost in them, but Yang knew better than to call attention to it. Weiss needed the space and if that meant sacrificing a few shirts and her favorite spot on the couch, then so be it.
That's what friends were for, right?
At least, that's what Yang told herself as she placed a cup of coffee on the table with an audible clunk. "C'mon Weiss," she said. "I got the night off. Why don't you come out with me, enjoy a night on the town."
"I'll pass." Weiss' voice was a rasp, the usual bite to her tone eroded down by silent days alone in the apartment. "I'm not in the mood right now."
Yang sunk down beside her on the couch, Weiss' body shifting towards her as the cushions sunk under her weight. She could feel her patience wearing thin, but she'd give Weiss the benefit of the doubt and keep her temper in check. "Look, Weiss," she said. "You know I'm trying to help you, right?"
"I know," she muttered.
"Then what are you going to do... about this?"
"What can I do? I'm not anything anymore."
Yang shook her head, reaching out a hand to smooth out Weiss' bangs, but Weiss swatted it away. Yang frowned, her hand curling into a fist beside her. "That's a load of garbage."
Blue eyes zeroed in on her in an instant, alight in the yellowed light of the living room. They were red ringed and teary, and Yang couldn't find it in herself to look away.
"You know nothing."
"I know you," Yang stated, her voice rising despite her best intentions. "And don't you dare try to deny it. We were teammates for four years, Weiss, that's got to count for something."
"Then who am I?" Weiss breathed, stubbornness refusing to allow her the decency of looking away even as the tears welled in the corners of her eyes. "If I'm not a Schnee then what could I possibly be?"
Something between anger and disgust began to bubble in the pit of Yang's gut. Weiss had told them little things, snippets of her life in the Schnee manor. It was never enough to truly know, but there were hints and none of it ever left a good taste in Yang's mouth. Now, though – now she knew. Not in so many words, but in the look in Weiss' eyes. All hardened ice and frozen tears.
Firm and stable, that's what Weiss needed right now. "You are not your family. You are not that scar. You're Weiss. And the Weiss I know is a stubborn, hardheaded, little piece of shit who doesn't take no crap and I mean that in the most endearing way."
A hiccup stuttered from Weiss' mouth, more of a dry laugh than anything else. "Is that suppose to make me feel better?"
"Well, yeah, that's what I was hoping," Yang said, curling an arm around Weiss' shoulders and pulling the woman into her side. "But if that failed, there's a couple of drinks at the bar with our names on them. My treat."
Weiss rubbed a hand over her eyes. "You know I'm not much of a drinker."
Yang smiled, her hand unconsciously trailing over Weiss' arm. "No, but even you wouldn't be so stupid as to turn down a few drinks with a friend." She paused to fix Weiss' bangs, pushing them back over her forehead. The scar was more visible than ever against the redness of Weiss' face, but the pale raised flesh was nothing more than that: a scar – and didn't they all have those.
"C'mon, let's get sloshed."
Weiss sighed. "So eloquent."
"You're looking at the picture of elegance, Weiss. You better get use to it."
Yang had never understood the idea of restraint – in general, really, but definitely when it came to drinking. Perhaps it was because she knew she could handle it. After four strawberry sunrises, two screwdrivers, and a handful of shots, the only evidence besides her rosy cheeks was the comfortable buzz humming just behind her eyes. Weiss, though – Weiss was a little worse for ware, draped limply over Yang's back as she climbed the stairs to the apartment. Every jostle had Weiss groaning, her cool cheek pressed against the warm skin of Yang's exposed shoulder.
"Hold on, we're almost there," Yang said, fumbling with her keys as she hurriedly went about unlocking her door. Yang kicked the door closed just as Weiss let out a groan, pressing her mouth to Yang's shoulder, and the gesture had Yang scurrying through the dim apartment to the bathroom. She made it just in time, gently lowering the small body to the floor just as the contents of Weiss' stomach heaved itself up and out her throat and into the toilet.
Yang didn't bother turning on the light. Instead, she plopped herself next to Weiss, her fingers combing through winter strands, pulling them away from Weiss' face as she retched. It seemed almost second nature as Yang worked the strands into a loose braid, before her hand settled gently on Weiss' back, rubbing small circles over and over and over.
Weiss' skin was clammy, a thin layer of sweat coating her back and neck, making the shirt she wore crumple and stick to her pale skin. Drinking had not been her brightest idea and she felt an apology crawl its way up her throat, but it died somewhere between teeth and she slouched.
"I'm such a failure," Weiss said, voice a mess as a dry heave worked its way her system. "Such a f-fucking wreck."
Yang sighed as she scooted closer to Weiss, ignoring the string of tears and snot that had silently slipped down Weiss' face. She knew Weiss wouldn't have wanted her to see. "You're not a failure." Her words were quiet as she rested her chin on the crown of Weiss' head. "How many times is it going to take for you to believe me?"
A small stuttering cough was her only answer. She could feel the tenseness in Weiss' muscles lessen in the silence that followed and her hand continued its motion even after Weiss had finally succumbed to fatigue and the both of them sat hunched together on the bathroom floor. It was anything but comfortable, but Yang endured the numbing pain in her lower back until it became to much to bare, gathering Weiss into her arms and pulling herself to her feet. She was small and light in Yang's arms.
Firm and steady. Yang could do that.
"Dinner is served," Yang sing-songed, handing Weiss a steaming plate fresh from the microwave. There was a slight scowl to Weiss' face as she took the plate from Yang's hands, her lips tilting downward in thinly veiled disgust. Yang ignored it. There was a rosy color to her cheeks and a little bit of life in her eyes, and that was all that mattered right now.
"Do you ever, you know, cook?" Weiss asked, looking at Yang with a quirked brow.
"I do," Yang said, taking a seat beside Weiss on the couch, careful with the plate in her hands. "On occasion. Didn't want to blow your mind so soon after your nasty hangover."
Weiss rolled her eyes. "How thoughtful," she said, pushing at her food with her fork.
The television was a quiet murmur in the background. A drone that was just above the light pattering of the rain on the windows, but it had been off for so long that it almost seemed overbearing. The news stations and talk shows had nearly dropped the downfall of Schnee Dust, though stories of old employees' tales and they wayward, "Weiss Schnee: Where is she now" propped up on occasion. Weiss was always quick to change the channel, but tonight the remote remained untouched on the coffee table even as the reporters did their daily roundabout.
But it was a simple little comment, an offhand remark about how much the industry had improved since the downfall of Schnee Dust, that caused Weiss to freeze. Not a moment later, she placed her fork down upon her plate to reach for the remote. The channel changed in an instant, a soft buzz settling in place.
Yang cleared her throat. "Say, Weiss?"
"What?" she said, gifting Yang with a exasperated stare.
"Do you ever think about giving it another go?"
Weiss looked away, placing her half eaten plate on the coffee table. "I don't think that's possible to be completely honest."
Yang snorted. "Stop being such a piece of work," she said, nudging Weiss with her elbow. "I'll help you – you know I will. Heck, I bet if I called up Ruby and Blake they'd be on the first plane back. Just because we're no longer in Beacon doesn't make us any less of a team. We're here for you, Weiss, and we're going to butt into your personal affairs for the rest of your life whether you like it or not. Better get use to us."
She reached out to run a hand through Weiss' bangs, a habit Yang picked up through the course of their time together. It was a tender gesture, if not an intimate one, considering Weiss frowned upon such blatant physical contact, but Yang was anything if not persistent. Weiss only scowled slightly, her urge to resist long since worn down by Yang's steadfast and affectionate resolve.
"Where would I even start?" Weiss said, her words a breath from her lungs as Yang's fingers ghosted over her forehead, pushing away strands of hair from her eyes.
Yang grinned. "The beginning," she said, her hand lowering to cup Weiss' cheek, her thumb lazily brushing over skin. "Where else?"
The weeks and months that passed by felt like running in slow motion. Everything seemed so familiar to Weiss – the paperwork, the business calls – but Yang could tell she was itching to be done with it all. The monotony of 'been there, done that' had Weiss struggling to hold on to the last strand of her nerves. Yet, even in spite of the permanent thin line to her lips, her new found purpose had brought much needed vigor back into her life. Weiss would deny it – deny the fact that she was happier – motivated – and Yang would tease her relentlessly because of it. They had known each other far too long for Yang not to. She lived for those moments, breathed for the short instances in time when Weiss' lips would curl upward into the tiniest little smile Yang ever had the fortune of seeing. She'd do anything to keep it there. Anything.
The living room had become a mess of papers, the top of the coffee table long since buried under stacks of papers and fliers. Every stray breeze through the apartment had them scrambling to pick up the pieces – bumping into each other in their haste to bring order back into their lives. The day usually ended up with them in a pile on the couch, too tired move as the lessening distance between them was cut and quartered until it was just the two of them side by side – in more ways than one.
It was as if someone had tilted the world askew. Weiss had always been distant. Aloof to the point where one might make the assumption that she'd rather be driven off a cliff than be within someone else's proximity for more than a few minutes. Yang felt like she had toyed with that line on several occasions, but when Weiss did nothing to deter her affectionate displays, this small (and probably horribly misguided) feeling began to grow in the pit of her stomach.
Yang tried to ignore it, she honestly, truly did. She told herself it was nothing, even when her hands lingered on Weiss' skin longer than what was appropriate. It was just something she did, and Weiss had grown so accustomed to contact in the passing months that she merely accepted the warmth Yang offered without protest. Arguing used energy, after all – energy that she didn't have the freedom to spare.
Neither of them said anything about it. That's what it came to and Yang didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed. Maybe it was a little bit of both. But by the time the end finally came into sight, Yang knew it wasn't going to be the same without her.
After all these months, the small bag by the door seemed more mocking now than before, but the most she did was give it a exaggerated glare, sticking her tongue out childishly when Weiss had her head turned, before refilling two glasses with wine and trucking over to the couch to sidle up next to Weiss. The liquid in the glass threatened to spill and Weiss shot her glare as she snatched a glass from Yang's hand. Yang smiled and she curled her arm around the former heiress, her fingers teasing the skin just above Weiss' borrowed shorts in her hazy alcohol stupor. Her usual reasoning was slipping with each sip, but the rosy coloring to Weiss' cheeks told Yang she wasn't far from the edge of drunk either.
"You did it," she said for umpteenth time that evening. The wonder had yet to fade, her voice full of glee as she pressed her lips to crown of Weiss' head.
Weiss huffed, but she didn't pull away. "We've been through this, Yang. We did it."
"Just shut up and take the credit, princess." she said, giving Weiss a brief tight squeeze and causing a surprised squeak to escape from Weiss' mouth. "You did most of the work anyway. I was just there for moral support. I'm no good at that – you know –" She waved her hand about as if trying to grab the words out of thin air, but they escaped into the fog of alcohol. "–Political stuff."
Weiss snorted – a petite, high class snort if Yang ever did hear one. "I'm just giving credit where credit is due."
Yang brought her lips to Weiss' temple, smiling wide against her skin. "Aww, Weiss... You're so cuuu–" Yang began, but a swift and ruthless pinch to her side had her recoiling with a pout, her drink precariously close to spilling.
Weiss shook her head, a sigh slipping from her lips as she leaned back, tucking herself into the warmth of Yang's side. "Don't ruin the moment," she chided, nursing her drink.
"Yeah, yeah, sure." Yang downed the last of her wine, setting aside her empty glass on the couch. She stretched out, the muscles in her body tensing nicely before she melted into the cushions, the arm around Weiss' waist pulling her closer.
"Yang?" came Weiss' voice not too long later.
"Hmm?"
"I just wanted to say thank you. Truthfully." She heard the pause in Weiss' words and Yang breathed, waiting, the weight against her something she was more than willing to bear. "I don't know where I'd be if you hadn't been there."
"You would have been fine," Yang said, her hand tracing comforting circles along Weiss' waist. "Just fine. You're stronger than you think." And it was true.
"Thank you," Weiss repeated softly, turning her face into Yang's shoulder.
"You're welcome."
They fell asleep like that, curled into each other on the couch.
The day of Weiss departure was quiet and overcast, with gray skies shadowing an otherwise warm afternoon. There were dirty glasses and a half empty bottle of wine littered over the counter top, a gift of 'Congratulations, You did it!' flowers – courtesy of Ruby and Blake – wilting beside them. Yang ignored the mess. She'd have plenty of time to clean tomorrow.
"Do you have everything?" The words were just filler, biding time as Weiss stood just before her in the doorway. Her hair was tied back into its trademark off center ponytail, dressed in slacks and a white blouse. Simple and honestly beautiful.
"Yes,Yang. I have everything." Weiss sighed, her hand toying with the strap of the duffel bag slung over shoulder as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "Are you going to drag this out? You know I hate it when you do that."
Yang smiled, but otherwise said nothing. She didn't trust herself, not in the the heat of the moment. Weiss looked every bit the woman she was and always had been. Those months spent silent and torn, huddled into the couch merely a fading fog that would remain tucked away in the back of Yang's mind. Recollections of a time she hoped were just as important to Weiss as they were to her.
"What are you staring at?" Weiss said, looking up at her with suspicious eyes.
The smile on Yang's face only widened, a hand rising to thread through Weiss' bangs, pushing them back from her face. She brought her lips to Weiss' forehead without thinking. She didn't need to. It lasted only moments, tender and fleeting, before her lips traveled lower, placing a simple peck to Weiss' small upturned nose. Yang hesitated then, a pause that stretched taught until she shoved the nervousness from her mind, leaning down to capture Weiss' lips in a gentle kiss. It was stiff and awkward and one-sided, but Yang wouldn't have traded it for the world.
When they parted, she pulled Weiss into an embrace – if only to hide her face. Yang never knew things like this could hurt so much (how she had let it hurt so much). Yet, the quiet, muttered apology into her shirt just moments later was the worst of all.
"I'm sorry." It was so sincere – so simple – that Yang couldn't help but hold Weiss tighter.
"Don't be sorry," she said. "It's my fault for falling."