Your meeting with Blake could have gone worse. Maybe.
Maybe if the ground crumbled under you both or you got eaten by a Grimm or something else ridiculous. Well, maybe the whole "you're gonna be a guilt-tripping paranoid jackass and vanish off into the clear blue at the worst possible moment 'cause that's how you roll" thing might have a few things to do with the lingering awkward, but come on. Sorries can't fix anything but you know pretending nothing's there isn't working, and Blake's already apologized, and you've already yelled yourself hoarse at her in public. The embarrassment threshold has not so much been crossed repeatedly as trampled into dust by now.
Except Blake? Is Blake, is made of sass and hangups and that stupid fucking guilt complex and 'blah-blah if I stay with you my psycho ex will kill you' GUESS WHAT BUDDY HE ALREADY SLICED MY FUCKING ARM OFF. MY ARM. I'm a brawler! I'm dead weight without functioning limbs, and if that bullshit fuckboy didn't kill me when I was a bedridden loaf of sad and useless he sure as fuck isn't pulling that off now. GUESS WHO'S NOT A QUITTER!
Okay, maybe some of the lingering awkward was from you yelling at Blake all the time, but she was the one who kept dragging The Fuckwad into it. It's not about her evil ex, it's about her chickening out and running away and dammit-
"This is pointless-"
You yell. Blake says. And it's all the same thing, almost, cadence and stridence not quite an exact match. Your and Blake's weak spots always matched up a little too well, not spot-on but so well, and when you told her the things you'd always wanted to hear (from your mother who was never there, from Ruby who was too young to take care of you, from Mom who was dead and gone and silent) she always opened towards you.
Blake is all shadows and nightmare-mysteries, but even moonflowers need sunlight sometimes. And she was always so lonely, is lonely, and you never really realized that half of that was her pushing people away and it doesn't matter that you understand that – that fear deep in your bones and your mixed-up bloodlines that you're wrong, that you're a plague and no one should want you anyway and NO. No, no, fuck no with a cherry on top no.
And there right there is the problem. Blake hasn't said no yet. Oh, she's still here, she hasn't gone and vaulted out a window and into the night sky again yet, but how long is that gonna last? No, you don't believe that Blake is here to stay. You will never believe it, because leave me once shame on you but leave me twice shame on me, and you. You are so sick and fucking tired of chasing after mystery women who will never love you back. You're done, okay, you're through. You and Blake are fucking through. No amount of sad-puppy-eyes from Ruby or disapproving-duchess-faces from Weiss can change the fact that Blake will always run away.
You don't care anymore that she's crying. Your heart is what got you into this. Your heart, your caring about people because of course the people you love are worth loving, it was never even a question, is just gonna get ripped out over and over and over until there's nothing left so that's it. You're done. You've got Ruby, sort of, as long as precious Weiss or what's left of JNPR don't come begging for her to follow them into hell again; you've got your dad, for all that's worth when he's so busy cleaning up the Grimm situation he couldn't even send a message until a month past your birthday; and there's Weiss, who says she's still your teammate and that she didn't want to go back to Atlas with her dad but it's not like she's got proof; and Qrow; and everyone else you have ever let even the tiniest bit into your heart and you are not letting Blake get under your skin again ever again. You don't have enough skin to spare now.
Blake is too proud to beg on her knees, and you're not nearly enough of a fuckup to make her. You almost wish you were.