"What time is it?" Blake murmured, cheek pressed against the seatbelt. She squeezed her eyes shut against the warm sun and yawned quietly. It smelled like honey and tannins, sleepily noted with a few deep breaths.
The rocking of the highway was soothing, with the sounds of passing cars repeating like a never-ending record. An old country tune was playing softly in the background, and Blake could hear Yang singing along with it softly, hands tapping the weathered steering wheel absently. It all felt so ordinary, so perfect, so routine to finally wake up relaxed without a care in the world - to be happy.
"7:42 sweetheart, you can sleep a little longer," Yang says with a glance at the dashboard clock. "I don't remember you being an early riser."
"The sun woke me up," Blake responds with a yawn. She stretched out lazily and placed her feet on the dash. "I think I'll get up now before I get a sore neck."
They settled into a comfortable silence and Yang turned up the radio's volume slightly. Blake pushed herself up into her seat and took in the scene slowly unfolding as she woke up - Yang had tied up her unruly mane of blonde pair at some point, donning the same clothes as the night before; a well-loved flannel and jeans probably three sizes too big with just about half the fabric missing.
She smiled at the memory of that day - she had complained to Yang that she was buying more air than fabric at that point, but her questionable sense of fashion couldn't be influenced by anyone. Blake felt a warmth in her chest - Yang had only grinned in return to her complaints that day, running up to the cashier and throwing spare bills at the poor girl before Blake could protest any further - or catch up, at least.
"Hungry?"
Blake blinked, returning back to reality. She stared back at Yang's questioning face. "Huh?"
Yang laughed, expression softening with such plain affection that Blake couldn't help but flush. "I asked if you were hungry, we've been on the road for a while so we're probably far enough to make a quick stop."
"Yeah, that sounds good," Blake says, becoming increasingly aware of the dull ache of hunger in her stomach. It had likely been hours since she ate, too distracted all night to notice it at all. "Sorry, I was just thinking."
"Belladonna on the grind with that big brain of hers," Yang jests, pleased at the eye roll she invoked.
"I was actually just thinking about how stupid you are," Blake cuts back with a laugh.
"Oh yeah? Name one time that I haven't made a carefully considered and completely rational decision in my 18 years of life. I'd like to see you try, smartass."
Blake snorted, ignoring the laugh she got at her reaction. She started to count her fingers animatedly, before settling that she would need many more hands. "Let's start with that stupid pair of jeans that you bought, that you are literally wearing right now," she says, gesturing to them accusingly.
"Please, these bad boys are easily the best purchase I have made!" Yang kicked her free leg out to show the ripped fabric. "Do you see this easy access? Any other pair of jeans would not allow this." She let out a breath to herself in amusement, settling her eyes back on the road. "Anyways, at least this is better than my JNCO jean days."
Blake groaned loudly, falling back into her seat and bringing her hands to her face in second-hand five-year-late embarrassment. "Oh god, grade six was so disastrously disgusting."
"Uh-huh baby, you pretended to not know me for the first two months of school that year."
They both laughed, imagining the same scenes. Growing up together meant attending the same kindergarten, elementary, middle, and high school - you'd think that they'd be sick of each other at this point.
"I had to win you over for you to finally talk to me again, you better remember it." Yang says - she raises an eyebrow, a grin hinting at the side of her lips. Blake let out a sigh at the memory - disastrous in the moment, but it did make for a hell of a story to tell.
"You stood on the top of the playground and I've never heard someone play the guitar worse since that day."
"Don't forget the most important part!" Yang chirps in. "Remember? I sang you a beautiful song, I serenade you in front of the entire school population that day."
"Oh god, the song." Blake groans, starting to remember the words and verses that barely rhymed - Yang was bold to rhyme 'around a while' with 'crocodile'.
"Yes the song, I worked two months on that shit show," Yang says before bursting into laughter. "I even stole a guitar from the music room for that!"
"Yeah, leaving the guitar playing to me was a good unanimous decision."
Spending hours talking so carefree wasn't so bad - honestly, not very different from an ordinary summer day. Blake was long used to the rumbling of the truck's engine and the shake of its suspension over cracked asphalt - Yang hung an arm out of an open window and sighed comfortably whenever the sun moved to warm the skin of her forearms and cheeks.
City highways were traded long ago for country freeways, peaceful and quiet with its rolling hills and fields of wheat. They passed a few cars: trucks, tractors, families heading to the coast to vacation. They increased in number as the sun started to rise - more unfamiliar faces on unfamiliar roads.
It was almost an hour later of endless roads before their situation started to creep itself back into Blake's mind.
"Hold on, how long was I asleep for?" She asks, concern starting to grow - low and rolling in her chest.
"Maybe three, four hours? What's up?" Yang asks, gazing at her concerned before pulling her focus back to the road. More cars were on the road at this time of the day, causing her to be more or less silent the entire time.
"Have you been driving this whole time?
"I guess, I haven't really been paying much attention."
Blake pulled herself upright. "What the hell?" she says, Yang nearly jumping in her seat at the outburst. "You've been awake this entire time, that's nearly, what-, twenty hours?"
"Relax, Blake. I'm fine." Yang says. She grimaced at how spectacularly her attempt at calming Blake down failed immediately.
"You need to rest, at least stop driving for a while," Blake says, looking around hurriedly for a truck stop - she pointed at an old gas station and diner a ways away in front of them. "Pull over there, Yang."
Yang jerked the car into a left turn before she missed the entrance, admittedly a bit clumsily as her hands got caught on each other briefly, clearly jumped by Blake's abrupt orders. Pulling to a stop in the relatively busy parking lot, the absence of the engine's usual rumbling was almost unsettling as she pulled out the key from the ignition.
The diner was populated by long-haul truckers, a few tobacco chewing locals, the spare tourist passing through - it was busier than Blake would have liked, glancing at every person to pass by their truck's windows.
"You stay here, I'll get us some food," Blake finally says once there was no one in sight around them. "It'll be better if we're in and out before someone can see our face long enough to recognize it later." She glanced back at Yang - even awake for well longer than what was healthy, her eyes still carried her usual wild glint that just begged for trouble. "Anyways, stealth isn't exactly your strong suit."
Yang shrugged in response, reclining her chair and shoving her hands behind her head. "Godspeed, Belladonna," She says before closing her eyes and letting out a relaxed sigh. "May you survive to return with our rations."
The door to the diner was as old and heavy as it looked, putting up a bit of a struggle to open as Blake finally slipped through; a small bell chimed as she walked into the small space. The smell of coffee and bacon grease was intoxicating and a prompt reminder of just how empty her stomach was. A few truckers glanced in her direction over each of their respective steaming mugs of coffee but paid her no mind.
Responding to the tinkle of the bell, an ageing waitress, with her greying brown hair pulled into a bun, smiled warmly at her. "Table for one?" she says as she approaches. "Or would you like something to go?"
The door's bell tinkled again as the heavy door was pulled open behind her. "Just to go-" Blake starts, before a voice chimes over hers
"Make that a table for two."
Yang's hands found themselves to Blake's waist from behind, feeling at the soft material of her sweater absently - lighthearted, and utterly annoying. The waitress smiled at her again before leading them to a parlour near the side of the busy diner. Blake turned around, a scowl already on her face as they followed her around the tables.
"I thought that I told you to wait in the truck," she hissed quietly, pulling her closer with one hand by her flannel lapel. "Someone could see us, and you don't really have an affinity for keeping a low profile. I swear you'll get into a bar brawl the second I look away."
Yang shoved her hands into her pockets. "Chill out pussy cat, I'm just here for my bacon and eggs. I don't fancy my breakfast in cardboard take-out containers." She says, giving a small wave to a little girl watching her curiously as they passed her family's table. "And for your information, it would be a diner brawl, not a bar brawl."
They sat down across from one another once they arrived at the window seat, taking the menus the waitress handed them.
"Would you like some coffee or tea to start?" she asks politely once the pair had a moment to settle.
"Coffee please, ma'am." Yang says, opening the menu to the breakfast column.
"Actually, can she just have some water?" Blake pipes up, shooting Yang a look. The waitress wrote it down on her small notepad, looking back up to Blake once she finished. "And a tea for me please."
Her shoes clicked on the linoleum floors as she walked away, leaving the pair to let out an exhausted sigh in their booth. Music was streaming quietly from the music box in the corner, barely audible over the tinkling of silverware, conversation and the sound of the grills in the kitchen.
"You aren't getting any coffee, you need to sleep." Blake insists once the waitress leaves.
"Oh come on, Blake," Yang says with a grin. She leaned further towards her over the table, forearms precariously close to knocking over their utensils and salt shaker. "A little coffee never hurt no one."
Blake groaned, choosing not to look at Yang's persuasive smile and rather at the menu. The selection was small, limited to breakfast foods and various pastries - Yang's favourite. She had finally settled on waffles after a heated debate between it and pancakes, while Blake settled on an omelette and home-style fries. Their drinks came soon after, Yang eyeing her water sadly as the waitress set it down in front of her.
Caution was a tendency that kept Blake out of most trouble throughout her life, and thankfully, Yang along with her - the nervous hum still hadn't subsided as she glanced around the diner again warily.
"We should be more careful than this, Yang," Blake says after looking around for a security camera. Fortunately, their faces looked like they'd be blocked by the booth's walls from any cameras hiding in any corners. "It's better to be safe than sorry."
"It's fine, we're already forty miles to the next city," Yang responds. She looked around their table before reaching for the bowl of condiment packets. "We can change our clothes or whatever else we need to do there." She says while opening a sugar packet and dumping it into her water, to Blake's disgust.
"Yang, that is disgusting."
"You were the one that got me water."
They bickered long enough for Yang to pour three more packets in before Blake finally relented and asked the waitress for some coffee, threatened by Yang holding her revolting drink to her lips and daring to drink it. The waitress returned soon after with a steaming mug along with their meals.
"I'd say we try to get to the next state by tomorrow, I doubt we'll make it today," Blake says after they settle again, stirring a small carton of milk into her drink. "It'd be nice if we could get to the coast."
Yang grabbed the syrup and started pouring, looking a little too in love with her waffles. "We can lay low in my truck for a day or so, but we'll have to go to town for gas and food eventually. Change your mind about camping?"
Blake laughs as Yang takes a big bite, working at her own meal. "Well, let's just stick to the plan for now. Or however long that lasts."
And it hits her again as soon as the words leave her mouth, this overwhelming feeling of deja vu - they've lived this moment before, Blake trying to stop smiling long enough to drink her tea and Yang utterly destroying her meal like an animal. Like a scene from a movie, replayed over and over enough times that they've memorized the script, the actions, the lines - being with Yang, just existing with Yang felt so scripted, so fated, like this was meant to happen, this very moment in a rundown diner in the middle of nowhere.
A heartbeat later, and the moment passes - reality starts to play again and Blake didn't even know it was paused. A glance over to Yang, who had cracked a joke and was laughing at her own jests, and the feeling subsides - she was never one to be nostalgic.
They both finish eating their meals soon after, disappearing without a trace - spare for a pile of bills on the table and some coins as a tip. Yang had brought her coffee to go and sipped at it idly between yawns as they pushed out the diner's door into the sunlight.
The truck stop was just outside of an old mining town; a small jumble of buildings around the old spire of a church. Fields of crops almost ready to harvest surrounded them, split by a single lane freeway passing straight through the sleepy town. The fields were so perfectly flat that the sky stretched impossibly far into the horizon as far as the eye could see.
The pair pulled open the doors of the truck and climbed in, the engine roaring to life with its familiar growl as they pulled onto the now barren road. Taking her turn at the wheel, Blake settled in comfortably into the worn leather seat. Yang reclined back in the passenger's seat with a hat covering her eyes from the mid-morning sun, catching some rest under its warmth.
Several hours passed like this, silently and comfortably as the sun rose and fell. With Yang long asleep, Blake found comfort in the way the road stretched endlessly from the sunset on the horizon and the old radio Yang cherished so much. She had to admit, now that she's had her turn at the wheel - the soft country music, scratchy and tinny through the old speakers, was starting to grow on her.
They passed another town with its outline on their horizon - far enough not to pass too many vehicles, but close enough to stop for gas and food at its outskirts as the hours went by. Yang had finally stirred once the sun started to set, dreamily staring at Blake at the driver's seat long enough that she swore she could feel it on her skin - with a lopsided smile and eyes too heavy to keep open for long, a look that Blake swears she's seen a million times, one that will never grow old.
Blake didn't think that Yang was serious when she mentioned camping, only truly believing her when they were halfway down a dirt trail in the forest. It took a lot of convincing on Yang's part to make her sleep on the truck's bed that night, even with the blankets piled up. They left their bags to use as makeshift pillows after pulling out anything hard and leaving it on the back seat.
"Yang, I will literally freeze to death out here." Blake says, pulling a blanket over her shoulders. They sat on the edge of the truck's bed, watching as the sun started to sink down through the trees. Yang had brought them up the side of a mountain as small towns and cities dotted the ground in the far distance below.
"Oh come on, you'll be fine," Yang says with a huff. "I basically have a resting body temperature of forty degrees celsius."
Blake laughed at her farfetched comment, but moved closer to Yang nevertheless, thoughtlessly doting on the warmth that did radiate off her. Yang leaned closer to her as well, pointing at a city far in the distance.
"That's Lower Cairn," she says as Blake follows her gaze. "They have auto trains there that can take us a few days out from Nomad Bay. Then it's nothing but road to Vacuo."
Blake hummed in response and relaxed into Yang's form, who turned back towards the truck. "Hey, didn't you bring your guitar?" she says, searching around in the fading light.
Looking back, she spotted the case quickly, nestled safely in a corner. "Yeah, I almost forgot that I brought it." Blake says, reaching back and pulling it towards them. She ran a hand over the weathered material, taking in all its stickers and scribbles by markers of various colours. Yang smiled and Blake already knew what she was going to ask.
"Can you play me a song?" Yang asks, as if Blake hadn't already relented.
Blake gave an exasperated huff but smiled as she pulled open the case. Yang settled more comfortably and pulled her legs back up from the side of the truck bed, turning to face her fully. The wind blew gently of pine and rivers, rustling their hair soundlessly.
"Just one." Blake says, because she knows that one's enough - it's always been.
The instrument she pulled out of the battered case was a stark contrast to the scratched stickers and tags - the lacquered chestnut wood of the guitar was polished and the strings well kept. It was beautiful no matter the countless times she's seen it, and impossible for Yang to keep her eyes off of as Blake set it on her leg into playing position.
"Let me tune for a second, it probably got knocked around during the drive over." Blake says, tying up her hair and strumming a few chords, adjusting the tuning slightly as she went. The sound resonated out into the open air and it was as if the sun stopped its setting to listen, the sky painted and left out to dry. The trees were still despite the soft rustling of their pine needle leaves, the dappling of dying light flickering across the two sitting on the truck's bed.
Yang didn't get to listen to her sing much since the day that she bought Blake her first guitar; and all the times she did, the only thing Yang could bring herself to focus on was the lithe shapes of her fingers as they moved across the strings, on the way Blake closed her eyes as she sang through the melodies.
Time had the courtesy to stop, when Blake played the opening notes, and Yang held her breath the same as the very matter around them. She remembered her skill and all the long nights she spent listening to her practice, but it never sounded quite like this, notes ringing out clear and true - as if they weren't meant to play anything else but this. Grip on the sleeve of her flannel tightening, Yang didn't bother hiding her mesmerized gaze on the girl's calm face. Blake sang the first few words and the sound of the wind melted away, not daring to make a sound, the only thing living being the soft croon of her voice.
'In the morning when I wake, and the sun is coming through,'
Her fingers shifted through the chords and danced across the guitar's neck.
'Oh, you fill my lungs with sweetness, and you fill my head with you,'
Yang couldn't bring herself to close her eyes, to look away, as if the moment she does, the girl would fade away. Like the ending of a movie, when the story's approaching its end - but their story has barely begun, or maybe it has already, and this was the end of the last and the start of the next. The promise of a lifetime started with a single song, the opener to the movie as the title began to play.
'Can I take it to a morning, where the fields are painted gold,'
Could she really ask her now? The thought brought itself apparent, the warmth of the idea, of its promises, spreading throughout her body. Maybe she's done this before - no, she's definitely done this before; a hundred times, a thousand. She's had so much practice, a millennia ago, but nervousness seemed to be something Yang couldn't grow out of no matter how many times it'll happen. Finally doing it would be too good to be true, but she's never been very good with words.
'And the trees are filled with memories, of the feelings never told,'
Yang's always been one to speak with her actions, but it was as if her limbs were frozen in place. The beating of her heart in her chest was growing loudly and she fought to control her breath - she was falling, over and over, again and again. Was she willing to risk what they have?
'When the evening pulls the sun down, and the day is almost through,'
Keeping it to herself has been torture this whole time - a burden that she had been willing to shoulder for as long as she could, more trouble than it was worth is what she convinced herself. A few strands of Blake's hair fell across her face and Yang brushed it back gently, pulling the girl's gaze to her. Blake's soft skin was cool to the touch and felt too good to be true.
Yang was wrong, more wrong than anything else in her life - it was worth so much that it was everything, an irreplaceable and inseparable part of her life that gravitated towards its fate like the rolling of a camera, the long line of its film.
'Oh, the whole world, it is sleeping,'
Blake smiled, playing the last of the lines. She slowed it down, letting the notes hang in the still air.
'But my world is you.'
Yang swallowed numbly as the last notes dampened out. It was fated after all, if you believe in all that silliness - Yang couldn't stop herself as a hand reached out and found its way to Blake's jaw, and the girl leaned into the touch. Time waited for them as Yang pulled Blake close, slipping her hand down to the small of her back, holding on tight as if she'd slip away. Blake had her turn last night, under the moonlight and in the company of the stars. Yang was impatient, she always was - the dying light of the sunset would suffice, dancing across where their skin met, painting this moment like it had done a thousand times already - and it was just as beautiful every time. The guitar fell soundlessly from her lap.
Blake really was the one better with words.