AN: This story was inspired by the song Cornerstone, by the Arctic Monkeys. Enjoy!
Weiss looked out the window of the rental car as it cruised down the highway. The Miami skyline rose in the distance and the Florida sun seemed to drench the entire world in it's fiery but kind yellow heat.
She watched as the driver took her towards her destination, a shiny and decadent five-star hotel overlooking the beaches. It was all so familiar and yet so terrifying to be back here after several years away.
There would be little time for pleasure this time, though. She was here on business. The Schnee corporate empire didn't run itself and now that her father was dead it was up to her to be the guiding hand behind the vast profits. It was what she was born to do, after all, to take over. Her father had made sure of it.
As they came to a stop at an intersection, she glanced out the tinted windows over at the next car and her heart almost stopped when she saw a girl her age with long blonde hair behind the wheel. But she wore it differently from you-know-who and looked different, too.
When they pulled away from the intersection and Weiss was parted from the doppelgänger, she felt overcome by a feeling of loss, even though that girl wasn't her and never would be anything more than a brief glimpse out the car window.
After a long day of business meetings, Weiss decided to go down to South Beach and find a nice and sunny spot to lay in, so that she could go back to New York with more than contracts and paperwork to show for her trip down to Miami.
She found a spot, put out a towel, and started reading. But the words all seemed to make no sense and even after reading the same sentence ten times it still meant nothing to her.
Weiss looked around. Beachgoers, locals, tourists, and drunk girls from the university sororities all mingled together on the beach and in the ocean. Down the beach, she could see one of her old haunts, which looked exactly the same as it did years ago. But it wasn't quite right. She wasn't there. The longer she looked, searching in vain for her, the more empty she felt.
Desperately searching for something else to look at, she looked out at the water where a gaggle of freshmen girls were having a water war. One of them had long blonde hair that was done up in a bun, and when Weiss saw her she almost fainted. But it wasn't her, and Weiss left as quickly as she could with tears welling up in her eyes, unable to take anymore.
The streetlights illuminated the inside of the car every few seconds as it passed under them. If Weiss craned her head upwards, she could see the glittering skyscrapers, each with a patchwork of lights on in the individual offices or apartments, and Weiss wondered if she was in one of those distant illuminated cubicles.
"Take the long way there," Weiss had told the driver when she got in. She needed time to think.
Or maybe she wanted to stop thinking. She wasn't sure at this point.
Or maybe she was. She slid open the partition. "Take me to a nice bar and go home for the night." The driver started to say something but she had already shut the partition.
The bar was loud so she found the quietest corner and sank into it. When she drank, which was rarely, she would get a Piña Colada or a margarita, both Floridian specialties, but today she wanted to stop thinking and maybe stop breathing, too, so she had tequila.
In no time at all, the room was swimming, but even through the alcohol-induced daze she could see one of the bartenders, a young and smiling girl with luscious blonde hair, serving martinis to other tourists.
Even when she was trying to forget about it all, everything reminded Weiss of her, and she downed another shot, hoping that it might go away.
But everywhere she went, she would hear girly laughter and see blonde hair and she would go home and cry. Every time it happened she came just a little bit closer to ending it all just to stop thinking about her.
After her fourth shot, she got angry and all but stormed out of the bar, attracting odd looks from some that she brushed off in her drunken haze.
She walked out onto the streets, wandered around for a while, and passed groups of party-goers, tourists expecting something wacky and spontaneous from the city famous for it's odd news, and wasted frat boys. She tried as hard as she could to avoid crying to avoid people asking her what was wrong.
Somehow she found herself back at her hotel, and through her daze she reflected that it would look terrible for the company of she was stumbling into a five-star hotel completely drunk. "Fug it," she mumbled as she made her way across the lobby in a way that would have caused her late father to completely disown her but at this point she couldn't have cared less.
Later, she wouldn't remember taking the elevator back up, or even going into her room, but she did, and when she woke up the next morning with the Florida sun coming in through the curtains, she felt an overwhelming sense of failure and loneliness.
Even after splashing water in her face and staring into the mirror for so long that she noticed absolutely microscopic blackheads, she felt no better.
Eventually after crying and only breaking a few things, she calmed down and resolved to get out of the hotel and do something, anything, before she took a razor blade and started a painting career in blood. It wouldn't be good for the business, something her father had successfully drilled into her.
She threw on the outfit she wore when she was putting in the barest minimum of effort, and left as fast as she could. She took the car, started driving, and kept driving until she passed a location that was so familiar that it hurt. It was the convenience store where she had first met her by total accident, and now that she had seen it, she couldn't not go in.
She went inside, and was almost relieved when she saw somebody unfamiliar working the counter. She looked around and saw that nothing had really changed, and it made her smile. Feeling satisfied but also slightly thirsty, she made her way to the refrigerators where the drinks were kept, and her heart stopped.
There was a girl there. Not her, she didn't have blonde hair, but someone else entirely familiar. She had shoulder length black hair with a long red streak through it, and she wore a red jacket and worn jeans. In one hand she held a gallon of milk and in the other she held a college textbook.
"R-Ruby?" she managed to croak out. The girl turned and her face changed from one of confusion to one of shock.
"Weiss?"
Weiss just stood there, struck dumb, and stared at Ruby, fumbling for words.
"What are you doing here? I haven't seen you in, like, two or three years!"
"B-Business. I own the company now. I was, uh.. In the neighborhood.. I wanted to come here.. I kinda gotta go.." she replied awkwardly.
"No, no, hey! Don't go! Stick around, we can go back to the apartment and talk. I'm sure that a multi-billionaire can make some time for me, right?" Ruby asked abruptly, grabbing onto Weiss' shirt to stop her.
"S-Sure, I guess I have all day.."
When they got to Ruby's apartment, the one Weiss had been to a million times, it felt like a strange homecoming. They sat down on the familiar couch and Ruby got them cans of Coke and a plate of her cookies.
"Some things never change, I guess.."
"I'm so glad this happened, Weiss. It's great to see you again. But, uh, you don't honestly look that great. I mean, not that you don't look good, you always look amazing, but your face says you're feeling pretty shitty."
"I.. Everywhere I go, I see blonde hair and girls who look like, well.. You know. I can't stop thinking about her and it's driving me insane, I can't stop missing her, no matter how hard I try."
"You miss Yang?"
She had hoped that Ruby wouldn't use her name. It brought back too many terrible memories for Weiss to say it.
"More than anything. H-Have you seen her?"
"Not in almost three years."
"Have you heard from her? Even once?"
"She called me from the Denver Airport a year and a half ago. That was the last time I spoke to her. She could be anywhere now."
"Just.. Why?" asked Weiss, collapsing onto Ruby, sobbing into her shoulder. "Why did she leave me? I can't stop thinking about it, I keep thinking about her!"
"Wow, Weiss, you've got a lot on your chest. Don't you have anybody to talk to about this in New York? Friends? Family? Even a psychiatrist or something?"
"I think you might be my only friend," Weiss replied between sobs, "And I don't have any family left. Winter is on the other side of the world, plus she hates me, and Daddy's dead."
"Damn. I'm sorry. Just let it all out, Weiss, just let it all out," Ruby said soothingly as she stroked Weiss' hair.
"I-I paid a prostitute to sleep with me because she had blonde hair and looked a little like Yang, and I called her Yang when we.. You know.. And I've never felt so low and dirty in my entire life!" Weiss blurted out, forgetting her aversion to using her name.
"I've been thinking a lot lately about just ending it.." she added somberly.
"No! Don't even think about that shit! Come on, Weiss, the girl I knew and loved was tougher than railroad iron and smarter than a Harvard grad!"
Weiss whimpered.
Ruby cupped Weiss' face in her hands. "Forget about Yang! I'm all you need, Weiss, let me love you!"
"R-Ruby, what are you talking about?" Weiss replied, confused.
"I'm in love with you! Can't you see? I always was, even when you and Yang were together, and now that she's gone we can be together, right? Yang deserves this! She deserves this for leaving us, doesn't she? She's a terrible sister and a terrible girlfriend!" Ruby had an odd look in her eyes, one that Weiss couldn't read, but there was a huge smile plastered across her face.
"Ruby, I.." Weiss began, only to be cut off by a long kiss from Ruby.
"Please, Weiss, I love you," Ruby said as she unhooked Weiss' bra, their cookies long-forgotten.
"C-Can I ask you a favor, then?" Weiss asked, her hands shaking as they caressed Ruby's legs.
"Of course," Ruby said seductively as she pinned Weiss to the couch.
"C-Can I call you Yang?"
"Weiss," Ruby replied calmly as she unbuttoned Weiss' jeans, "You can call me anything you want."