Written for the 9 Days of Lancaster event. A solemn thanks for the folks at the Kingdom of Lancaster Discord whose enthusiasm fueled my love for the ship till I managed to finish.

Chapter 1 - A Promise...

=(✿)=

Ruby Rose, trying to sleep on her train ride to Argus.

The train rattles beneath me as it banks and weaves, rubbing over old boards and rickety steel. Up and down over each tiny bump, then up and down, then up and down again. The mundanity helps me sleep. It makes the already boring train ride even more boring. I hope, even if feebly, that my dreams are more exciting.

Despite myself, I cling to boredom. I welcome it out of the other myriad emotions running through my head.

My thumb presses over my wrist. I'm doing this so my hands don't move. My ring finger already feels cold without the promise ring on it and I hate that it both makes no sense at all and makes all the sense in the world.

I sigh, deep and loud, begging for anything and anyone to draw me from my thoughts. The sound of the train has already begun to blur in my mind. More noise that I can readily ignore.

Fishing out my scroll, I give the report on it another look. We've got intel on Behemoth migration patterns and some analysts think we can ambush them. Weiss – one of the few friends I've kept from my time in the academy – asked me to be her stand-in for the summit on Argus, representing Vale.

She can't make it cause she's busy planning her third wedding. Woman's got beauty and suitors, and here I am with my only boast being a record kill count and enough free time to take over for her.

But I envy her still. Love comes easily to Weiss. She doesn't pass one suitor for another, she pieces them together in her head. Gives each of them time to occupy her mind and fill her heart. Building dioramas of dreams and hopeful goals, weaves a tapestry of what can only be perfection and wonder and swooning. She forgives them for falling short of it for as long as they forgive her for doing the same.

Weiss carries love like a princess carries fairy tales. Immune to its blackened splotches, its stains more color for the tapestry. I wish I had her candor. Her wonder. Her ease.

I ushed to think I was like her, but the cold discolored gap on my ring finger is every reminder that I've left that eager part of my youth behind.

Outside, the snow is gentle and scattered – whipping in the wind. Mistral only gets snow this far north. The rest of the kingdom is pleasantly cold. Campfire weather.

Oscar comes to mind in a flash, freckled cheeks beneath a shade of pink. He smiles passed the fire between us, warming his hands that are worn and carved in scars and calluses. I remember that night as vividly as any novice in love should.

"Are you cold?" he asked me. And we spoke nothing else as we found other ways to warm ourselves through that cold autumn night.

I'm pinching the discolored gap in my ring finger again. I hate the warmth that it gives me.

=(✦)=

Jaune Arc, waiting patiently for a girl on a train station.

My scroll keeps pinging before I mute it. I don't need to look at them to know what they are. Job offers from other huntsmen. As a freelancer, you'd figure that I'd jump at every opportunity to make a few lien, but nowadays it feels like I hardly ever get the chance to come either of my homes in the city. People hear that I can heal their wounds and boost their semblance, and suddenly everyone wants me in on their contracts.

Lately it's gotten… distasteful. I was on a job with a team I'd worked with before and I swear they were hurting themselves on purpose. I woke up to the sound of their whispering from another tent, and they were talking about how strong they felt when I amped them. The more I listened, the more they sounded like addicts.

I've blocked them, of course. Just needed to ask the clerk at the mission board to do it. Should have asked to close down my availability entirely, too. It isn't like I've been feeling very up to hunting in the last few days.

It's the reason why I'm here at Seagate Station, the end of the rail line in Mistral at the cusp of Argus, waiting for a girl.

"Oh, you'll love her," Weiss said when we were on call earlier. I'd asked if she was secretly trying to set me up but she was being coy as usual before she busied herself again and forgot she was on the line with me. She was in a different room every few minutes and talking to a different face every few seconds – because weddings are never simple and most certainly never Schnee weddings. By the time she got back to me, I'd already arrived at the station and we ended the call.

I'd typed the name down on my scroll in bold letters. Ruby Rose. A pleasant name. Cute, even. I try to picture what she might look like but a name like that calls a redhead to mind and I instinctively clutch the wedding band hanging off my necklace.

I hate that I jump to it so naturally. My fingers run along the inlaid Arc crest among the tiny carved patterns. As a child, it looked like an enchanted object. Such was my wonder, youthful mirth filling spaces, killing time, molding dreams.

I tell myself that I've still got most of that. I'm a huntsman with prospects and a modest reputation, but growing up has worn the gloss off of everything.

The train I'm waiting for pulls into the station. It rattles against the rails. Up and down, up and down, up and down. I used to have motion sickness. Even without it now, I still find myself noticing the way a vehicle feels under my feet.

I also consciously feel the way the crowds stomp out of the train itself. Even with all those doors, everyone just has to push through the crowd and make a lot of noise.

Hopefully this Ruby girl has the patience to wait out the crowd so she's easier to spot.

A blur of red and rose petals weaves through the congested, gasping civilians. It speeds passed me – the smell of earthy citrus comes with it as a petal brushes against my nose. The blur stops and I don't need the sign anymore. This must be her.

I run up to her. She stops, probably figuring out who I am. She smiles brightly and I'm thankful her red hair is a several shades darker than I expected it to be.

"Hi!" she says first, rolling back and forth on her heels. "You're Jaune, right?"

"And you must be Ruby," I say before spotting the meager pack strapped behind her waist. "Is that all your luggage?"

She waves a hand dismissively. "Don't worry about it. I camped with worse. I only need two pairs of clothes for a weeklong trip in a city of all places." Her gaze drifts to the sword at my hip and nods approvingly. I feel a swell of pride I desperately try not to show. "You're a huntsman, aren't you? I'm sure you've roughed it out there with only an extra tent and a sleeping bag, right?" Her eyes and that grin tell me she's trying to make this a challenge.

I like her already.

"Ha! If you know what you're doing–" I pull a few inches off my blade, letting the light catch along its honed edge, "–you can survive just fine with just a blade."

She blinks at me. Not quite looking like she believes me. "Seriously? That true?"

I shrug. "If you have to. Now, c'mon, we might as well settle you into your hotel before I take you to The Forum."

=(✿)=

Ruby Rose, getting to know the blonde in his car.

He isn't what I was expecting. Weiss told me he had blonde hair, blue eyes, and was very likely armed. Despite that, I expected a disinterested escort who'd taxi me to and from the summit and will recommend me places to eat in case I needed it. I was expecting someone to be, at most, polite.

I found someone friendly instead. He's also quick to embarrass with the way one nod to his weapon makes him tense up. I'd say that gives me a leg up with a fresh face, but I wholly expect to thoroughly embarrass myself before the day ends. I clutch my arm as we make it out to the sidewalk, hoping I'm conscious enough to surprise myself by not slipping up once today.

His car has a retractable roof. A convertible Minos. I only know the brand cause of the pointy-looking bull bars over the bumper (they're not actually pointy. A shame, really).

Before he opens my side of the car door, I try to hop in cause I've done that before with my sister's car. I instead yelp and fall face-first into the warmth of his driver's seat.

See what I mean about embarrassing myself? The leather is gentle on my skin though.

He holds back a snicker as leans over to help me orient into a human sitting position. I'm thankful I'm not in a skirt else I'd have exposed myself to stranger on the first day. But that'd be fitting, wouldn't it, Ruby Rose?

Since I'm already mostly on the driver's seat, I unlock his door for him as he comes around. Somehow the door swings out and catches his legs. He doubles over the door and smacks onto the road.

"Are you okay?!" I screech. He thrusts a thumb from the ground as he hoists himself up before I can apologize.

He's laughing and his cheeks are a touch pink, but that smile of his holds. "You must be quite the catch, Miss Rose. I'm falling for you already."

The flirting catches me off guard so much that I laugh against my palms under my too-wide smile. "Does that normally work?"

"Wouldn't know. Never tried a pickup line before," he says that, but I don't believe him. "Don't, uh, think too much on it. I was just running my mouth."

Runs his mouth into flirting? I know he means that he doesn't want to sound like he's hitting on me, but that doesn't stop my brain from going in that direction. My small face is already prone blushing all over so I tear my eyes away and fiddle with the hem of my blouse. And I force myself to stop doing that. Confidence, Ruby Rose.

"I don't know," I say airily, resting my cheek against a knuckle so my hands don't move around. "I certainly feel less embarrassed about falling into your car."

"Good," he laughs, as he slips into his seat and tugs the door closed in a loud thud, "cause that was totally on purpose and my face isn't going to forgive me if I do that again."

"What? That was on purpose?"

He smiles neutrally, telling me nothing. "We should go, Miss Rose."

I feel the car lurch beneath me, and the cool air is enough to take any heat off our faces.

"Just Ruby is fine, actually."

"Is it? Aren't you Atlesian?" He steals a glance at me and I'm suddenly conscious on if I'm more formally dressed than I think I am. Which I'm not, but I double check anyway like an idiot as if jeans are suddenly couture. My nerves are going to ruin me.

"Like Weiss," he continues. "Sorry, I'm not used to getting familiar with most of her associates like this." He taps the side of his head. "Miss and Sir are coded under Schnee."

"Nah. I'm cut from different cloth. I'm an islander from Patch," I say proudly, because I am. "A certified Valean."

"Oh, cool. I used to be Valean myself till I moved here. Now I'm legally Mistrali."

"Vale didn't work out for you?" I ask.

"More like Mistral spoke to me better." His eyes cast over the city as we drive down a slope. It must be mid-afternoon, but you can't tell with the thick cloud cover. The sun peaks out through the gaps. Its rays move over the city like spotlights. The wonder in his eyes is evident and – judging by the way he's smirking at me – so it is with mine. "Went here on vacation so often with my family that I came back for academy training in Haven," he explains.

"I'm from Beacon myself," I say. "Even competed in Vytal a few times. You ever compete? Might have seen you on the arena."

He shrugs. "I watched a bunch. One of my friends competed every year and..." A pause. A frown. It's there so quickly that I would have missed it if I wasn't paying attention. There's something there but he pushes passed it. "I… went with her a lot. Saw her every fight. Made it into the finals twice. You ever make it that far?"

Finals? I feel like I should know who this girl is, but I got into the semi-finals once and haven't tried for higher since. Tourneys aren't really my thing. "I'm not that good," I say, and my own pride takes a hit before I mentally bite it down. "Besides, I prefer Grimm to people when fighting."

"Ha! Same," he says. "Never really saw much point in it myself. You only ever see evil huntsmen in movies anyway. You ever see a Spruce Willis flick?"

I snort. "Only all of them." Because who hasn't?

"Well, there's this villain in Dye Hard who was based off this serial killer in Atlas…"

I tune out for a moment. Just for a breath's length. I already know about Tywin. It's the fact that I'm having fun is what gets me. Hasn't been more than a few minutes since we left the station, since we met¸ and he's already got me talking without checking myself. I feel disarmed. Maybe it's the friendly face or tripping on his door, or maybe it's cause my trip to Argus is immediately better than I thought it might be.

I haven't even decided if he's cute or not. Sure, he's tall and he's got muscle, but that's most huntsmen anyhow. Or maybe it's cause his smile is gentle and I can imagine it with a freckled face dancing passed a campfire.

I'm pinching my ring finger again.

=(✦)=

Jaune Arc, trusting Ruby with the wheel.

The summit was boring. Her pout makes it clear that, with business concluded, that she isn't going to find anything interesting by herself till the party unless I take her somewhere. So, I get this crazy idea that parts of my brain tell me that I'll immediately regret but I do it anyway.

"Hey, you know how to drive?" I ask, jingling my keys in front of her. Her eyes widen and a smile crests till her cheeks vanish in it. Seemed like a good idea at the time. The feel of a roaring engine tamed by your whims is an invigorating experience. It's why I bought the Minos in the first place. My sister, Sable, recommended it on the ease of control and the fact that the manufacturer went bankrupt so I'll never find another as old or sturdy as this.

When she barrels down the street and my face pales, I suddenly feel just as old and pray to what god might be that I'm equally sturdy. She isn't some maniac. I know that in the way her eyes glint and her grin flashes that she knows what she's doing, and that freaking me out is exactly the point.

I suck in some air. She's challenging me and I want to match it.

Pulling myself up, I lean into the speed of the largely empty road. Then I stand up on the passenger seat, hand clutching the windshield. "Hey, Ruby!" I shout through the dense wind that tosses my hair back. Her eyes widen she looks up at me. "Don't hold back. Just try and throw me off!"

I know she's conscious of me now. The nervousness on her face is telling, but she grins again.

I expect to feel fear when she drifts into a turn. Instead, I feel my blood rush when I hold steady and barely move. "That all you got!?" I shout.

And she banks again and again. Not as hard as she could – she's still afraid of throwing me off and I'm grateful for that – but she tries enough to scare me and she does, and I find myself loving it.

I feel a thrill I hadn't felt since I was a teenager. Hadn't felt so alive since the breakup.

I even forget the wedding band on my neck and cheer down the road till my throat hurts and I lose my voice.

I squeak.

She thinks it's cute.

I feel the necklace burning against the skin of my neck.

=(✿)=

Ruby Rose, finding that she still hates parties.

Alcohol shouldn't be so popular amongst huntsmen. My birth mom was adamant against it since my dad was such an avid drinker. And I've since had it ingrained in me not to even touch the stuff.

Imagine my surprise at how differently a classy party treats that sort of thing.

Wine is everywhere but they sip like it'll cut down their thirst as long it wets their lips.

I sip my water and I have to double check if there's fizzing in it at all. I'm getting jumpy at the atmosphere. Unlike every other party I've been to, there's no heavy bass, no screaming and cheering, just a bunch of well-dressed folks and slow music. And I still don't like it here.

"Not your cup o' tea?" Jaune asks, having quickly found me again.

I swish the drink in my hand like it'll magically change after if I stare at it enough. Rather helpfully, my magical silver eyes do absolutely nothing. "It's not even tea," I say. "Place doesn't even have soda."

He laughs. "Soda's not very classy, apparently."

"Which is why this party blows." I bump into him and he smiles down at me. Not that he has to do it by much. I'm tall, too, but I realize just how much taller he is next to everyone else and especially me. "You're built like a tree…" I mumble.

"The Great Golden Oak, actually," he says, gesturing for emphasis. "They called me that when I taught a few kids here. Imagine how big I looked to them. Little runts, at most, made it up to my hip."

"Did you wear a costume?"

"They put a crown of leaves on my head once."

"Cute."

"Not really. Glue was still wet and it dried cause I couldn't take it off and ruin it for them. Got plastic leaves stuck to my hair for so long that I had to cut a few strands just to come free. Lost my wolf tail then."

I look up at his shaggy blonde hair and try to imagine it tied up. It doesn't suit him but that's probably cause I've gotten used to the way he is now. "You mean a ponytail?"

"Sure, let's go with that," he says with a grin, not rising to the bait. Touché, Jaune Arc.

I sip my drink only to realize that it's all gone.

"C'mon, let me spice things up for you," he says, pouring something into my glass. I realize too late that he's pulled out a flask and is pouring something that most definitely isn't water into it.

But then the smell hits me. It's potent but not unwelcome. "Is… is this soda?" I sniff again. "Fizzy White!" I whisper loudly, shifting from side-to-side, hoping no one heard me. "Why do you have this?" I ask pointedly.

He shrugs. "I've been to more than a few parties like this. Once or twice, I was Weiss's plus one. I learned day one that you always need a little extra." He winks at me, shaking the flask that is branded with a bunny on it. "Plus, I feel kinda cool with a little contraband." Right, cool.

He's a complete dork.

My smile is too wide again and it doesn't help that I shove the delightfully sugary drink down my throat. It's like I've been lost in the desert and I've found some salvation at last. "You're pretty convenient," I tell him, and he takes the joke in stride. "A ready ride, soda on a fancy party, didn't even let me have to find you at the station."

"To be fair, you stood out," he says. "Not a lot of huntresses with a name as apt as Ruby Rose. You'd probably be red-red in one of those dead tongues."

A blue-haired man in a silky suit spots me from across the room and makes a beeline to us. I pay more attention to his date. Slim figure but with the build of a huntress. Obvious muscle she tries to hide a shawl and the sheen of her sequined blue dress that matches her hair.

"Miss Rose," the man greets me, and our hands meet so quickly that I forget to shake back. "Henry Marigold. I was told you knew Weiss."

I look to Jaune for help but he and Henry's date trade a knowing look between them.

"Evenin', Arc," Henry's date greets.

"Evenin', May," he says to her.

"Uh…" I say dumbly.

"Don't worry about it," Jaune cuts in for me. "She has just as much trouble reaching her as the rest of us." I realize he let me squirm on purpose. Payback for earlier, huh?

"You need to reach Weiss?" I ask him, immediately suspicious.

Henry puts up an air of confidence that withers away when May puts a hand on his shoulder and smiles sympathetically. He sighs, likely deflating any pomp and ego, and gives me an uncertain, vulnerable look that he clearly isn't used to having. "Still," he begins, "if you've an opportunity to reach her, especially in this busy time, please ask her to call me. I know this is unorthodox but a desperate man in desperate times must do desperate things."

"What's this about?" I ask, but Jaune puts a hand on my shoulder and shakes his head.

"Trouble at the factory?" Jaune asks.

"That's the problem, don't yet have the factory," Henry responds. His despondent look is starting to wear down on my apprehension of him.

"I'll talk to her," I say quickly. "She gives me time every week to catch up. I'll tell her to reach out to you instead. You look like you need it way more than I do."

They blink at me. All three of them. "I… thank you," Henry says, and I blush a little at the excited smile he gets.

Music kicks in and a few people on stage start talking calling out to the crowd for some obscure dance. Henry's gaze turns to me and offers his hand. "Would you care to join me?" he asks. "I mean nothing by it. It's hardly thanks but–"

"I can't dance," I say quickly, and my blush deepens. "I… I'm sorry. I really don't know how to dance. B-besides, don't you want to take your date?" I offer, almost frantically.

May shrugs. "I don't dance either."

Jaune laughs and May shoots him a look. He grins back at her. May rolls her eyes and huffs.

"Sorry, Marigold," Jaune says, "looks I'm your only eligible partner and I didn't bring a dress this time."

Henry and May can't help but hold back a snicker. I wish I knew what was going on. What does he mean by bringing a dress this time?

"I'll let it go," Henry says, taking his date by the arm. "I've not much love for it at these functions anyhow. Thank you again, Miss Rose."

"Just Ruby is fine," I tell him but then he trades a look with Jaune and exhales sharply.

"I'll stick to Miss Rose," he says with a playful cheeky grin at Jaune. "I wouldn't want to suggest edging into someone's territory, after all."

"What?" Jaune guffaws. "Wait! Hey!"

And they leave.

I cross my arms at Jaune when he turns back to me sheepishly.

"What was that all about?" I ask him.

"Don't… don't mind him. Henry's got a mind in the gutter when he's in a good mood."

"You sure about that?" I ask. "Or was he on the money?" I know what I'm asking, and the way I look up at him probably looks like flirting… and it totally is. I don't know where any of this is going but he's made this day better than it should have been. Plus, pink is a good color on that face.

He stares at me, tugs a necklace tucked inside of his collar, and breathes. Suddenly there's confidence in those eyes again and I realize I might have made a mistake.

"That depends. Does all that cheek survive the dance floor?" There's that challenging look again.

"I don't know," I say coyly. "Think your toes can survive me?" And it's so not flirting but he reels when I stomp loudly next to his feet.

Another well-dressed man spots me from behind Jaune. I realize that my association with Weiss has made me rather popular. I don't like it.

He's looking around at the other eyes on us too. "We should go," he says.

=(✿)=

Ruby Rose, thinking she might want to dance with him after all.

He takes me to the garden where there's pop music rustling through the hedge maze. We keep quiet cause there's staff in these woods and Jaune doesn't want to scare them off. But then a chorus kicks in and he can't help but move ahead of me and sway his hips with every pop.

I haven't seen anyone move like that since my sister on her wedding reception. He makes me jealous of the way his waist twists like water sloshing in a bottle, but suddenly him being in a dress makes way more sense. If you can rock it like that, you'd probably look good in a potato sack.

He isn't even the least bit embarrassed when he spins and finds my waiting gaze. Instead, he reaches out and invites me to dance with him.

"I don't dance. I was serious about your toes."

He shakes his head and laughs. "C'mon, I've got you," he says, and I find myself trusting him.

He moves with his shoulders first, letting the rest of his body wiggle after till it dips at his hips in a sharp bump. He makes me do the same and, as soon as I get the motion down, he takes my hands tugs me around.

I just follow his footsteps as he leads us. I'm a quick study so I can keep up but I'm sure I still look as stiff as a board but he nods and encourages me. "Yeah, like that. You've got it."

But then I stumble again. And he catches me. We laugh and I realize the tense coils in my nerves are coming loose. I smile so much it hurts my cheeks. He keeps leading me like I'm driftwood caught in the waves but I feel like a real dancer as I narrowly avoid stepping on his toes.

Then he takes me by the waist and spins me around. We're so close now but I don't want to push away. If anything, my body begs me to pull in closer.

I don't know him, not really, but I'm losing myself in all the joy I've been missing for a while. Maybe he sees it, too. When he puts me down, we're still holding hands. The pop music goes away but that just tells me we're alone out here.

His thumb rubs over my digits and… he flinches. Pulling away, he says, "Oh. Oh! I'm so sorry!"

"About what?" I ask, but then feel a warmth on my ring finger. Somehow, I've put on my ring. When did that happen?

"Sorry," he says, scratching the back of his head. "I… I hadn't realized."

"No, no, no!" I say, pulling it off my finger. "This is…" I'd slipped it on to ward off the onlookers, I realize. I wasn't looking for suitors, so I put it on as a force of habit, but then the ring rolls onto my palm and I feel it's heavier than I remember. "This was…" I try to find the words but they're lost in the wind. Beyond a crackling bonfire and freckled cheeks. "This was before," I say, but it hardly sums up what it's done to me.

I sit on a marble bench, the surface smooth and almost slippery beneath me.

I'm dumbfounded. At a loss.

"Before what?" he asks, sitting next to me. He's warm, like the ring is.

The coiled tension in my nerves tightens again. I consider telling him the truth, but then I also consider lying. But, hey, aren't I leaving in a week anyway? Won't none of this matter in the end?

But, hell, shouldn't it matter? Shouldn't it matter every time?

"I'm sorry," I tell him. "Just forget it."

I hear the jingle of his necklace as he takes it off. When he does, I realize that the length of it was hiding in his chest and there's an engraved ring on the end of it. Is he like me?

He rolls the ring in his hands. "I'm guessing yours isn't just to ward people off either."

I nod. I wish that weren't true. That having this old ring wasn't just a deterrent, but it's held onto me. As enduring as the memory of him. "It's a promise ring from my last year in Beacon."

He looks at it, then at me. "But that's… normally promise rings are silver."

"Yeah, I know," I laugh, but it isn't bitter. It's genuine. I realize that as it rumbles happily in my chest. Somehow that makes it hurt more. "I met someone in my senior year. He was the headmaster's apprentice and I was a top student. So we were always on a job together." I bite my lip. It's funny how I can still taste him. "Spent so much time together that I, uh, fell in love. He gave me this on our anniversary without knowing what it meant to give a girl a gold ring. What we had… well, I thought it would last forever." And I mean it because it was everything I dreamed loved might have been. That love was perfect the first time around and would be every day onward. Just like in all the fairy tale romances.

"Didn't work out?" he sums up for me. I'm grateful cause I'm not sure I could have said it myself. I nod instead.

He sighs and locks his gaze onto the ring in his hands, shimmering in the moonlight so the engravings – which are filled with something glossy – glints like something enchanted. He's so focused on it that I forget myself and its like I'm not even there when he shuts eyes and speaks. His tiny smile catches me off guard, though. "I met her on my first year at Haven. Hadn't realized that she had a crush on me till Sophomore year." He speaks fondly and I struggle to see where it hurts. Maybe it doesn't. "I was the biggest idiot on campus cause everyone – everyone – even the headmaster, knew she had thing for me before I did."

I snicker. His smile widens.

"Sisters even picked up on it," he continues. "They had to sit me down to tell me straight when I brought her over for the winter break. She was dolled up, too. And like the fool I was, asked if she was going on a date with someone."

"Wow," I say automatically. "How'd she take that?"

He laughs. "She screamed then kissed me."

"Please tell me you figured it out after that."

He looks like I've slapped him. "I'm not that dense."

"You sure? Two years and enough hints for the campus to see it from space, and you don't think you were that dense?"

He doesn't answer, not when all he has is a lukewarm defense and nothing to show for it. When he props his elbows on his knees, he looks smaller than me in a relaxed sort of way.

"Do you miss her?" I ask. I don't know if I'm asking myself the same thing.

"No. Not really. We still talk. Frequently, even. Less since the breakup but we talk like it didn't happen." That feels hauntingly familiar. He stares at me till my eyes meet his, like he's trying to figure something out about me. "Do you miss him?" he asks.

"Yes," I say. His freckles and that fire still dance in my vision. "No…" I remember the warmth of his arms but Jaune's sitting close enough for our hands to touch and he's just as warm. "I… I don't understand what I'm feeling right now. What I've been feeling."

"Hm…" he intones. "How long ago did you break up?"

"A few months back. You?"

"Two years."

I reel. I shouldn't cause it almost feels rude to do so, but I can't imagine feeling this way for that long. Is it not something that heals? Do I have to live with this gap in my chest, recalling him every time my mind wanders?

I turn to him for answers, hoping he can read my mind, but his eyes are at the stars. I look up at them, too. They're pretty.

"Hey," he says, but it's like the stars are talking to me instead.

"Yeah?" I ask the cosmos.

"I don't think it's him you miss," the stars clarify by twinkling.

"What makes you say that?"

"Cause if you're anything like me – and it seems like you are – you had this idea of what love was and you were disappointed that reality doesn't end like the stories do."

I snicker at a shooting star. He reads me like I'm talking to myself. "That sounds… too right." Because I realize I miss what me and Oscar had, but I don't want him back. "He's with someone else now."

"Do you know them?"

"She was a friend of mine, too. I'm happy for them. Really. Maybe you're right. It kinda blows that love isn't like it is in the stories. Everything's always wrapped up in a neat little bow with a lesson at the end, but in real life, it's like you walk away with nothing or – worse – less than you had. Coming face to face with what love can be has only given me more questions."

"Hm," the moon hums agreeably. "Do you ever wish you were back on campus? Where you were allowed to let love be reckless?"

"Hardly had the time to," I say. "We only had three months left in senior year, but we did tear through that like the lovestruck teenagers we were."

"Wanna be reckless again?"

I'm in my late twenties and I feel like I'm clinging to a childish youth I should have shed by now. That my friends have all been married at least once and I've barely gotten a proposal. And that I'm still too young to have to worry about all this but my brain won't leave me alone and compare me to everyone else.

"Yes," I say, in defiance to it all.

Then he casts a shadow over me as he leans in from above, the night sky vanishing in his golden locks and the glow of his eyes. I reach up as I feel his arms close over my waist.

He tastes like soda and I love it.

=(✦)=

Jaune Arc, waking up in the company of another redhead.

It's too early to be up. It's precisely two AM. Henry texts me, telling me I owe him a favor for standing in for Ruby's speech since we left the venue. He doesn't mean it, but I opt to make good on that. Besides, I'm at least glad we don't have to reckon with that on top of what happened just now.

Chamomile warms in my mug, and I welcome the smell. The hot tea jolts me awake and slowly clears the fog in my mind.

"What's the brew?" She's at the doorway, leaning sleepily against the frame. "You weren't in bed. A little early to be up by yourself."

"Needed to think. Want a cup?"

"Please." She slides onto a stool by my island counter. "I hope you don't have any regrets," she says sheepishly. In a groggy haze, that vulnerable look is only amplified. How her ex survived that is beyond me.

My brain catches up and I think on what she says. I find that it isn't regret I'm feeling. "You were great. My only regret was not staying in bed."

"Great how?" she asks, eyes challenging again.

"You make the cutest sounds," I say with cheek that pushes against my tired eyes.

She blushes but forces it out of her cheeks with an annoyed grin. "Not gonna ask how you were?" she asks. I don't take the bait.

"Don't need a rousing evaluation with a workout like that." I pull at my shirt's neckline, revealing the bite mark she'd left behind. "And it's not like I won't be feeling this reminder for a while anyway."

I know I can heal it away but I can't bring myself to let the mark of some honest passion leave me just yet. Sliding the hot mug into her hands, I pour the heated water and tea leaves into it. We both inhale the scent. I don't want this moment to end.

"Figured you for a coffee guy," she says.

"I was, but coffee shops were always full at Haven and I liked my solitary corner in a mostly empty café. I found one just off campus called Catfrani, and they only had tea. Went there every day." I watch her sip her mug. "Would you have preferred coffee?" I ask.

"I'm more of a milk and sugar kind of gal," she says with a confidence that tries very hard not to sound like she isn't already an adult.

I exhale sharply. "Is that how you start your mornings?"

She waves a hand dismissively. "Yeah, yeah, sugar bad, but I used to wake up the smell of the stuff brewed for four people then five when my sister got old enough. I got pretty sick of it."

"Five?" I ask. "How many siblings do you have?"

"One," she says. "My sister's, uh, actually my cousin, but we grew up together and we didn't know the difference at the time. Our parents all live in the same house. They were a team back in Beacon when that used to be a thing."

Haven used to be the same until the academies pushed for more flexible teams and stopped forcing people into groups of four. "I kinda wish we still did that," I tell her. "I might have liked having roommates."

"You didn't have a roommate? I mean, I shared a room with Weiss till junior year but then they give you new rooms with a single bed once you're a sophomore. Is it different in Haven?"

"You start and end with the same room and the same bed," I tell her. "It was cozy but… lonely. There was a couple in the next room who'd have one sided gossip I'd wake up to sometimes. Almost never heard the guy speak but his girlfriend would go on and on and when I wasn't trying to tune it out, it was like she was talking to us both."

"You didn't have any friends?" she asks and I realize what that sounded like.

"Oh! No, I did. Plenty, actually. I even got to know that couple. The girlfriend – her name was Nora – actually started gossiping to us both through the wall. I didn't realize that she was doing it on purpose cause she owned that room and she wasn't always there with her boyfriend. She just knew the walls were thin."

"That sounds kind of cute. And public. How did you manage any privacy?"

"Loud music and a campus wide agreement to keep to ourselves in the dorms. It was fun, though, but I'm still not used to waking up alone in a room like that anymore."

She looks around the dimness of my kitchen, her silver eyes vanishing in the shadows that cloud a side of her face. I want to take a picture. Has the lighting at two AM always been this perfect?

"You've been alone here for two years?" she asks, frowning. "Haven't brought anyone home?"

"Nope. Just you," I say, and our cheeks turn pink.

"I didn't think I was so special," she murmurs, loudly sipping on her mug. She chuckles softly. "I guess you weren't kidding about falling for me earlier."

I roll my eyes. "I'm fairly certain I was more intimate with the roadside when I said that."

"And that changes what exactly?"

"Just that I'm too afraid to admit that you've crashed into my life and I want you to stay in it." I realized what I've said only after I've said it, but it's too late to take it back and, honestly, I don't want to. "I wanna ask you out."

"I…" She's apprehensive and I let her figure things out. She reaches for my wrist. She's shaking. "I know this feeling," she says, "I know it so well that it scares me out of my skin that this is happening again."

My hand closes over hers, fitting over the gaps in her boney knuckles. My hand twitches. "I'm… worried, too. It's like I've been here before and I can't help but feel like it'll end up the same way." My mouth escapes me again, but I wonder if she's spilling her heart out too, faster than our minds can keep up with.

"Should… should we call it quits?" she asks. "Just stop while we're ahead? I… don't want to ruin what we had yesterday." Her eyes find mine, locked and listless, but her lips quiver into a ghost of a smile. "I… I know it's weirdly sentimental but I wanna remember what we had without any of the bad that might come with it."

"Just like in the stories?" I ask, smirking. She smiles back, easing away into herself. I find my center too. I like this. I want it. An enduring memory with none of the imperfections. I had fun. Let that be what that night remains in my memories. In our memories.

"It's for the best," she says. "I'm leaving in a week anyway. I'm not just a huntress back in Vale. I've got a life back there with a shop and a dojo."

Then it clicks. I have an idea and it blooms like a fire I'm trying to keep in control. Excitement bubbles under my skin and rolls over my toes. In my head I'm trying to sort the rules in my crazy suggestion but then I say it anyway, words tumbling out of me. "Then let's make it last the week!"

Her hands retreat to her chest. "What do you…? Oh!" Her eyes widen, and a smile curls her cheeks. "Just a week? So, while I'm still here we can–" her eyes shoot to the doorway into the bedroom, then at me, and the hickey on my neck. She shyly brushes her bangs aside. "I'll admit I'm not used to the casual lifestyle but I'm open to it."

I shake my head. "No, I, uh, I don't mean it like that."

She gives me an askance stare but her enthusiasm lingers in her curious smirk. "What do you mean then?"

"Well, for one thing, I don't think I can forgive myself for not saying my interests aren't just… physical."

"Heh… I like you too, Jaune."

"R-right! So… I'm saying we do this week like we did yesterday. Get to know each other and see if we want more, but we don't bring anything else to the table that we don't want. No long term commitments. Just anything to spice up the week we have."

She presses a hand to her lips as she thinks to herself. "Is falling in love for a week something you want on the table?"

I don't know if love can blossom so quickly, but I desperately want it to. Even if it'll end. "I think figuring out if it can is something we both want," I say.

We've been closing the small distance since we began and our shoulders touch. The wall clock over the door ticks in a rhythm. Our fingers are tapping on the counter just inches apart, like they're dancing. We laugh and our digits lace together.

She abruptly takes my hand and stares at my palm. "Jaune Arc?"

I snicker. "Yes, Ruby Rose?"

She takes out her ring, places it in my hand, and closes my fist over it gently. "Would you show a girl a good time? Make this week just like in the stories?"

Where it's perfect and cleanly cuts away? Where happy ever after closes the book and every ever-after that follows never needs to be explained? "Is a yes enough or do I seal this with a kiss?"

She giggles. "You tell me." She offers her hand and I roll the ring she's given me in my hand. But I put it on the counter and unlatch mine from my necklace. Wordlessly, I slip it onto her finger over the discolored gap. It's just a gesture. A promise, not a proposal. But it's still everything we've been looking for.

Her lips are warm when we kiss. She tastes like easy mornings, like chamomile and the cozy warmth you cherish in the winter.

Next update for this story is scheduled for the 25th under the prompt: Rising.