Hello everybody, I'm back again with another chapter! The first thing I want to talk about in my A/N is reviews.
A lot of you continuously review every chapter, which is absolutely great. It's great to know what you guys constantly think as the story progresses. Your reviews are real motivation for me.
For the people that don't review, but follow/fav my story, it's kind of disappointing. If I can take the extra minute or two at the end of every chapter I read, how come you guys can't do it?
Oh, and to the guest reviewer who talked about how there was no way Jaune could be a SEAL at his age, I'll try to explain it as best I can without spoiling Jaune's plot.
1.) You don't know what Qrow's position is, or what he does, or if he commands anything.
2.) In real life, it's not possible to be a SEAL at his age, but I can only give you one answer to that.
One, this is Fanfiction,
Two,
Sierra-117
Anyways, let's just get on with the chapter.
P.S This starts with Weiss' POV.
This time, I didn't want to sleep though. A part of me just wanted to sit there, and accept what the voice was saying in my head. The other part wanted me to let go and forget. That's exactly what I did. With tears stinging my eyes, I made my way towards the kitchen. I stood in front of the cherry-oak cupboards, and opened the one closest to me. I reached behind, to the furthest part of it, and felt the familiar texture of a paper bag.
I secured my hand around it, and walked back towards the couch, not bothering to shut the cupboard door. I dragged my feet to the couch, and sat on it. I reached inside the bag, and pulled out a tall and wide blue glass bottle. I ripped the cork off of it, and started to drink its contents. It burned my throat to no end. I could already feel the alcohol affecting me. I didn't care though. I just wanted to forget everything. I heaved the bottle up again, chugging another fiery chunk of the liquid.
Everyone had their own issues.
And everyone had their own poison.
My just happened to be alcohol.
I knew I had a low tolerance. I didn't care. I was about halfway through the bottle now, not even two minutes into my poison. I let myself go now, following the drunken thoughts of my mind. Knowing myself, I'd go get the other bottle.
Maybe I'd get poisoning. Maybe I'd kill myself. All to forget my problems. It wasn't right. I knew it wasn't right. Then again,
Who cares?
In all reality, I was never a morning person. Proof enough when I fell out of bed. All I wanted to do was turn over on my other side, and snuggle with this huge blanket on me, but no, fate had other plans. I lay there on the floor for God knows how long. I faintly opened my eyes, just enough to see the digital clock on the end table. The blue LED light read 9:57 am. Seriously!? I just couldn't get the extra three minutes of sleep!?
I slowly pushed myself off the floor. My fingers were a little weak from that waking up muscle sickness, or whatever it was called. I knew it was a constant pain when I got to school in the morning and started writing something down. My fingers just didn't have enough strength to grip the damn thing.
School.
Well, I guess it didn't matter anymore. Today was Tuesday, and our flight for Disneyland left tonight. Including today, that gave us six days, plus our long-weekend school break, which meant no school until Monday. I had to admit it. Professor Ozpin really played his cards well, given the circumstances. Given my circumstances, I still needed to make it up to Blake somehow for letting me stay in her house. I still remember crying over the whole thing, even after we had said our goodnights. I was an absolute emotional wreck, but that's nothing new.
I dragged my feet along to open the door to the hallway. I didn't have anything on, except for a pair of short shorts, and a super baggy T-shirt. Father probably would've grounded me if he saw such unkemptness, but then again, he wasn't an issue anymore. All I ever was to him was a business interest, nothing more, nothing less. I unconsciously traced the scar over my left eye. I remember what happened vividly. I had done something, which now I can't even remember what, and he got angry with me.
He had made me fence with him, and I had lost, terribly. The doctor said I was lucky to escape with my eye. Ever since then, I realized what I really was to my father. It had made me depressed, and then that's where my cuts started. I went and saw the family doctor, without my father knowing, of course, and he had diagnosed me with depression. He had given me light doses of medicine, a simple, small pill a day to help brighten my mood, but after months of suffering through that, the medicine just wasn't enough. It only went downhill from there. Father had been sitting on my bed, waiting for me to get out of the shower. It was a huge surprise when I walked out of the bathroom attached to my room, clad in nothing but a towel, and saw him there.
That's when he found out. He grabbed my wrists, and he saw the cuts. He found my medicine, and he was furious. I never forgot that day. He had abused me. He slapped me across the face so hard I fell to the ground. He pulled me around by my ear, hair, anything he could get his hands on, and he threw me into everything. I got shoved into my dresser, thrown onto the floor, and even pinned to the wall in a chokehold. My mother walked in after hearing all the commotion, and went off on my father. I'd never seen him so terrified in his life.
I drew myself back into the present, as I continued to walk down the stairs. I reached the bottom, and turned the corner.
I screamed.
Blake was laying on the floor, two empty bottles of some liquor next to her. One knocked over on the coffee table, and one on the floor, just out of her hand's grasp. I was scared. I was scared because the bottles were both empty. I was scared because Blake wasn't moving. I was scared because I felt I was going to lose someone. I rushed over to her, turning her over on her back. I gently shook her, whispering her name.
I signed in relief when her eyes gently fluttered for moment. Instead of the usual amber color that was always there, there was just a hazy amber, glassed-over. Her eyes were bloodshot, too much for her own good. Her breath absolutely reeked of alcohol. I tried my best to keep her with me, but her eyes closed and she passed out, or so I could only hope.
I didn't know what to do. I can't call my family for help. 911 would probably end up throwing her in jail, and since Blake is a Faunus, I can't even begin to imagine what they would do to her in jail. I looked around until I saw Blake's phone on the coffee table.
I prayed to God that the phone didn't have a passcode on it. I attempted to unlock, but to no avail. There was a passcode, unfortunately. I felt the phone vibrate in my hand as a message notification appeared. I thanked the heavens, and quickly slid my finger down the small black notification box. The contact read Jaune, which was even better. I hastily type my message to him.
'Jaune its weiss blake is passed out and i dont know if shes okay please come here wit yang'
I nearly threw up at the sight of such horrible grammar, but I couldn't care less right now. I received an instant reply.
'Her passcode is 2008. FaceTime me, now.'
I hastily typed the passcode in, and to I was utterly astounded when the phone unlocked itself. I grunted when I saw all her apps were in neat folders at the very bottom of her screen. People always glorifying their damn home screens. It took me about twenty seconds, but I finally found her FaceTime app, and opened it. I mashed the contact button, and mashed Jaune's name even more.
It rang for less than two seconds before his face appeared on my screen. Before I could even get a greeting of any sort in, he interrupted me.
"Let me see her, now." He commanded.
I obliged, switching the camera to the one on the back of the phone. I heard Jaune go off on a happy strew of curses.
"Get her on the couch or something. Keep her elevated, a seventy degree angle at the least. Keep an eye on her if she throws up, and wait for me to get there, alright?" He said.
I muttered a "Yeah, alright." Back, and the video cut out. I grabbed Blake by her waist and under her arm, and dragged her up on the couch, as much as my dainty muscles would let me. I sat her up like Jaune had asked me to, and then I grabbed Blake's phone again.
I stood up and ran over to the front door, opening it, and unlocking the glass/screen door. Walked back to the sofa, while trying finding Yang's number, and calling her. I had a little more luck finding her contact, and pressed the call button. It rang around five times before I heard the line pick up.
"Kitty, it ain't even ten yet. Whaddya want?" She slurred out.
"Yang, its Weiss. Blake's... I don't even know. I came downstairs, and she's passed out on the floor with two empty..." I looked at one of the bottles. "Vodka bottles next to her. I called Jaune and he's on his way, but you should get here too." My voice was frantic and I jumbled on my words. I noticed the phone in my hand was shaking, as well.
There was a pregnant pause before Yang spoke. Her voice was definitely more awake and alert now. "I'll be there in less than ten minutes. You keep an eye on her, and if anything happens to her, call me."
"Yeah, you got it."
The line went dead, and I slumped back into the sofa, keeping a close and mindful eye on Blake. I fidgeted with the hem of my shirt, waiting for the arrival of Jaune and Yang. Around ten minutes passed, and I worried Yang wasn't going to get her. In the meantime, I had really thought on why Blake would do this. I started to think that maybe it was my fault. Maybe she already had a lot of problems, and I was just another burden to her. I was just brining more problems on her, and she nearly drank herself to death over it.
It was my fault, wasn't it?
My gripped tightened on my shirt. I had the urge to cut again, bad. I needed something to keep these thoughts and worries away. Something to focus on. It was just me getting what I deserve, anyways. I felt warms tears sporadically drip on my face, and I stood up and slowly walked into the kitchen. I tried to stop. I willed my body in every way possible not to move. It had a mind of its own though, and slowly but surely, I now stood in the kitchen with a ceramic knife in my hand.
I pressed it to my wrist, gazing at all the other faded scars on my arm. I cried harder now. I didn't want to do this. I didn't want to hurt myself. I didn't want to exist. I just wanted all this to stop. I pressed the blade against my skin, pressure it, but still trying to resist it.
I never heard the two sounds of engines outside the house.
I pressed it a little harder, close to drawing blood.
And just as I was about to cut, the blade was knocked from my hand. I turned around and saw Yang, wearing black jeans and that usual hoodie of hers. I still felt the tears rolling down my face. I didn't know what to do. I felt so ashamed, so... alienated... The next thing I knew, I was being held close to Yang's chest. She had hugged me tightly, in a comforting bear-hug. She held me close to her, one arm around my back, the other holding my head to her chest. She whispered words of comfort to me, trying her best to calm me down.
I was happy. I really was. I had someone like Yang looking out for me. I couldn't even remember the last time I was hugged like this, in a caring embrace. It must've been years ago. This feeling was just so... foreign to me. I didn't know what it was, but I really liked it. I hugged Yang back as much as I could, while she still tried to calm me down.
I eventually left Yang's embrace, and walked back with her to the living room. Blake was laying on the couch now, with a blanket over her. She had two pillows propping her up, and Jaune sat on the coffee table, talking to her. I walked over to her and Jaune, while Yang wrapped me in a side hug. Blake smiled gently at me, the lazily turned her focus to Yang. She made half-lidded eye-contact with her, before her eyes shut.
I heard Jaune sigh next to us. He rubbed his temples, then tested his hands under his chin. Yang broke the silence when she spoke. "She promised me should would stop. It only used to be a glass or two before, maybe once a month, not even. I've never seen it this bad. She really must've been an emotional wreck last night..."
"It's my fault, isn't it? I did this to her. I gave her more problems she didn't need." I spoke. My voice was sullen, I felt absolutely terrible right now.
Yang squeezed me a little tighter. "Oh hush you little drama queen." She scolded me. God, it sounded so motherly. I wondered why. I remember Sun mentioning something about her having a little sister yesterday, but other than that I had no clue.
"You think Blake and I don't talk, Weiss? She was actually quite happy to have someone to live with. She probably got tired 'of doing it by herself', she questionably suggested.
"You are so insufferable!" I yelled at her. I heard Jaune cackling with laughter. "And you too, you...you...scraggly-haired blond!"
"For the love of God Yang, please shut up..." Blake whispered. Jaune laughed a little louder, before shushing Blake to sleep again. I smiled at the sight. I was definitely feeling a lot better now. I guess I just had a small anxiety attack or something like that. God, I'd have to get rid of those soon.
I realized I wasn't crying anymore, and that I was actually smiling. The animosity towards myself was gone, and it was replaced by something foreign. Words could barely describe it.
My heart was beating just a little faster. My body felt a little warmer. I felt like I had been friends with these three for all my life. I felt welcome. I felt wanted. I felt...
Loved
I really didn't mind this feeling. I welcomed and cherished it. It felt good, my worries gone and out the window. I didn't feel the need to cry, or cut, or breakdown, or anything like that. It was purely indescribable.
When I refocused my attention, I was standing in the kitchen with Yang and Jaune. Yang had her hand lazily draped around my shoulder, still keeping me in a slight embrace. I didn't mind it, so I crossed my hands and let them rest on my thigh.
"She'll be better in a few hours. I gave her some dust-enhanced painkillers, so hopefully she'll sleep in peace." Jaune said, rubbing his temples. I heaved a heavy sigh, and moved over to the coffee pot, preparing pot of the much needed (for all of us) beverage.
"Rough night?" Yang asked with a small chuckle.
"Yeah. Just had some bad dreams, that's all." He took a short breath. "And you?"
"Decent. Ruby had a real bad dream last night. She practically came into my room screaming bloody murder." I guess my assumptions were correct when I thought Ruby was Yang's little sister.
"My poor baby was so terrified. Another nightmare about mom dying. Fuck, she's never been the same since then. I can't do anything for her, but just hold her, and listen to her cry for hours. What a great fucking sister I am." Her voice saddened, she was clearly upset and losing her temper, which was never a good thing. I gently tugged her close to me. She looked down at me, and it looked like she had completely forgotten that I was there.
"Thanks, midget..." She said, trapping me in another one of her bear-hugs. I let it slide this time, and gently hugged her back.
"Alright. I'm going to go back home and get packed up. I'll see you guys at the airport." Yang said. Jaune and I mumbled an affirmative response, and she walked out of the kitchen. She paused by Blake in the living room, and then walked away. There was an echo of the door shutting, and then the roar of a motorcycle engine.
"I should probably get going, too. I'll see you tonight." Jaune said, before walking out. The familiar sound of the door and a motorcycle engine resonated once more.
The familiar sound of silence.
Sorry for the wait guys. I just haven't gotten around to writing much, especially since I'm betaing for two of my friends right now. I know this chapter was annoyingly short, but I didn't want a massive chapter donated to our neighborhood heiress, Weiss. Review as always!