Blake reaches up, needing something, anything, to ground her. Even as she thinks this, she knows it's a lie; she doesn't need just anything, or just anyone, she need's Yang Xao Long. The girl who so stupidly rushed blindly into a fight to save her. The girl who now only has one hand because of her, and yet Blake holds it anyway, using what isn't hers to use, taking and taking and taking.
Slowly, Blake curls into herself. The guilt, fear, and pain pressing in on her, but she doesn't let go of the girl's hand. The girl who taught her to trust people again. The girl who burned so brightly that now she's burned herself out. The girl who she promised herself she wouldn't run from, because how can you run from someone who holds your heart?
But Blake knows she won't be able to take the way Yang will look at her when she wakes up. All Yang will be able to see is the girl she couldn't save. Every time she will look at Blake and see her own failures. And, slowly she will begin to resent Blake, she knows this without a doubt; she can feel it in her bones. Because it's her fault that Yang lost her arm, it is her fault that Yang can no longer burn so brightly, it's her fault that Yang's wings have been clipped just as she was learning to fly.
The only thing worse than running away is seeing Yang slowly begin to hate her. And it's not even Yang's fault that she will grow to resent her, Blake deserves it, she deserves all of this; for running too often, for trusting the wrong people, and loving people she shouldn't have. And maybe if Blake had just kept herself far enough away from Yang, smiled a little less at her horrible puns, kept herself at arm's length, Yang would be ok. Or maybe she just should have never come to Beacon, never even stepped into Yang's life. The thought twists her stomach – that she is completely and utterly responsible for this, for hurting the person she cares most about in this entire goddamn world. And with this thought, the tears start. And she feels whatever was left of her resolve crumble. She can't go back and stop Yang from getting close to her, she can't go back and stop Yang from getting hurt, but she can keep her from getting hurt more.
Slowly, Blake let's go of Yang's hand, attempting to remember its warmth and memorize the way her fingers fit with hers. Shakily, she stands, her legs barely holding her up and her eyes still blurry with tears. She can feel everyone's eyes on her, all of the questions that she doesn't quite have answers for. Sun steps forward and reaches for her; with her eyes still on the ground she takes a step back.
"You shouldn't be standing." He questions more than states. She looks up at him, tears still in her eyes, ignoring his warning as she gently grips her stomach – still feeling blood ooze out of the wound her aura hasn't quiet healed yet.
"Take care of her, please." She whispers. His eyes widen in realization but she's already gone, all that's left of her is a fading shadow and three words quietly whispered to the girl on the ground.
"Forgive me, Yang."