Eight Drinks
In which Ren makes eight drinks, one for each of his friends and one for himself.
Disclaimer: RWBY belongs to Rooster Teeth. This is a work of fanfiction for entertainment, not profit.
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The first drink he makes is a hot chocolate with heavy cream, premium cacao, and a sprinkling of cinnamon. It's for an hyperactive teenager- fifteen, she emphasizes between gulps of steam- with what appeared to be chocolate dipped hair. It's weird, she confides, gushing with the enthusiasm of someone learning about caffeine for the first time. Pause. She means that it's only been their first official day but oh isn't it just so, so very exciting? Of course there is someone named Ice or Weiss (Ice-Weiss? Ren didn't quite catch the name) who's not exactly the friendliest. But that's totally OK, because no one's ever voted off their team on the first day, right?
Ren smiles comfortingly and refills the hot chocolate. "Tomorrow is a new one," he says, and, suddenly, he's crushed in a chocolate-splattered hug.
...
The second drink he makes is an expresso with cashew milk, coffee beans, and a dash of nutmeg. It's for an elegant teenager- a proper lady, she enunciates- dabbing gently with a white lace handkerchief between sips. A sideways ponytail dips back and forth as she talks, carefully clipping the words from an extensive collage. Her name is Weiss (Oh, Ren thinks, not Ice or Ice-Weiss) and she's concerned about her performance after their first week. All she really wanted was a fresh start, away from Atlas, but apparently everyone already knew her by sight. At home she fought to prove she deserved the name; at school she has to prove she's more than said name. Was that all there is, to strive again and again for targets that changed as soon as she aimed?
Ren nods understandingly and refills the coffee. "Next week will be better," he says, and, somehow, there is a shiny new coffee press by his locker the next day.
...
The third drink he makes is a tisane with soymilk, fresh mint, and a sprig of basil. It's for an observant loner- an introvert like himself- one hand balancing a thick tome of ancient philosophy and the other tipping a gold-rimmed teacup towards his. They say much during their afternoon of silence. She's worried, too, about the state of the universe and their place within it. A month has gone by and she's cracked every spine the library owned about justice, truth, and peace. She's afraid, he realizes, that she won't learn enough to fix all that needed to be fixed. How do we right wrongs? Change the status quo? Make the world all that it should be?
Ren wonders the same as he pours another round.
...
The fourth drink he makes is a strawberry sunrise with coconut milk, fizzy soda, and a spiral of orange zest. It's for a carefree charmer- one that knows how to get a party started, she proclaims with a saucy wink- someone who appreciates all the adventures life had to offer. It's been a semester and she's still trying to talk Ren into riding a motorcycle through the cafeteria for "fun." Ren shakes his head no for the hundredth time. She understood the rules, of course; she just questioned why. Starting with the stupid regulation against having personal vehicles on campus, for instance, or those obviously unfair laws against the Faunus population. It just wasn't right, she seethes, and, for a moment, her "Let's-save-the-world" face looks so much like her sister's that he's tempted to make another hot chocolate.
Ren grins at the image as he pours another round.
...
The fifth drink he makes is a protein smoothie with almond butter, algae extract, and a pinch of cayenne pepper across the top. It's for a slightly-less-scrawny-than-a-semester-ago blonde with exceptional tunnel vision- seriously, dude could give bricks lessons on missing the obvious. Besides that, though, Jaune's the brother Ren never had, someone who wanted to be a hero so much that he's failed to realize that he was well on his way to being one already. Except for now, because now he's asking for advice on how to ask Weiss to the dance. Surely it's that not hard to talk to a girl without word vomiting all over, right?
Ren just sighs and makes another.
(One day, he thinks. Jaune's bound to figure it out one of these days.)
...
The sixth drink he makes is the house special with maple, peach, and that strangely addictive pink syrup from the forest. It's for his favorite person in the entire world- his daily dose of laughter, exasperation, and the occasionally good-natured facepalm. Today she's talked him into dress modeling for some white and lavender concoction with fluffy crinoline and velvet bows. Don't worry, she confides, it's for you-know-who who just can't seem to take a hint. All Ren needs to do is stand still for an hour while she snips, cuts, pins, and sews. So what if it meant getting poked and shocked by the needles every few minutes? That's what best friends do, right?
Ren nods to himself and downs an entire liter of syrup.
(One day, he thinks. One day I'll tell her and she'll figure it out, too.)
...
The seventh drink he makes is a health tonic with probiotics, wheatgrass, and essential plant extracts. It's for his second-favorite person at Beacon- the one that encourages and comforts him, a strange and welcome experience for someone who spends much of his life doing the same for everyone else. She's more introspective than usual today, absent-mindedly rolling Nora's maple syrup across her palms. Nothing's wrong, she proclaims much too quickly when he asks, just worried about the festival, 's all. Of course she knows they've had almost a year to practice, of course they're going to do well. Just a little on edge, 's all, overwhelmed by the responsibility of representing Beacon in the tournament. Just the same, though, of course she knows that she can go to her teammates- especially slightly-less-clueless-than-bricks-after-the-dance now- about anything. What, did Ren seriously think she was going to make life-changing decisions without consulting them?
Pssssshhh.
When it's all over Ren wipes a tear from his eye and keeps the shattered bottle of maple syrup for remembrance.
...
The eighth drink he makes is a stiff one, the kind that burns as it goes down and burns all the way through to the core. The night air is stiff and unyielding. Hot chocolate girl coughs a little at the taste but finishes everything. Protein shake boy chugs with all-too familiar ease. Syrup girl gulps, too, choking only a bit at the bitterness. He's the only one that drinks without emotions spilling over the edges. The year is over, the festival is over, and everything they once knew was over. Memories are what they have now, and they all tip their mugs towards the orange-red embers of the fire as darkness falls.
The bottle is half-full when day begins again.
...
And there you have it, RWBY and JNPR, together again. Kinda. At least this one is less depressing than Four Boxes?
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