CHAPTER TWO: But Engrave it on your Chest.

"You didn't tell me that you broke up with Neptune," her dad pestered, blue eyes filled with something that resembled curiosity. But it wasn't curiosity. It was just him being a massive control freak.

"It wasn't really that important, it's not like we were dating that long anyways— if you could even call it that." Yang sighed, flipping to the next page of her magazine. Her eyes raked over the curves of the model adorning it, licking her lips. Yeah, who knew why Yang couldn't hold a steady relationship for shit? Maybe it had to do with her attraction to anything with legs that wasn't Cardin Winchester (if you could really call those sausages he stood on 'legs').

"Not important? Yang, you shouldn't just date people if you're not going to stay with them! It's irresponsible," he crossed the dining room, snatching the magazine from her hands and tossing it onto the couch. "Not to mention, a pretty bitchy move to the people involved."

Yang rolled her eyes, resting her chin on the table, pout grazing her soft lips. "Neptune's been whipped for Sun since middle school anyways, it's not like we had anything real anyways."

"Yang…"

"We're still on great terms, dad, it's fine. We fucked and went on some dates, it was nice while it lasted." But that's what it was, nice. It wasn't anything worthwhile, and they faked any romantic feelings that they were supposed to have. "I don't get why you're so wound up."

"Yang, I don't want you digging yourself into a hole, okay?" He looked like he was struggling with conveying his point without saying what he really meant.

"What do you mean a 'hole'? What, like the one you dug yourself into when you decided to date mom? The one where your dreams and relationship got crushed because of a mistake?"

"No, Yang. Not everything is about me and… and Raven. This is about you and—"

"Yes it is! Everything is about you and Raven! Because all you do is live vicariously through your kids, forcing them to be fucking saints so they don't make the same mistake mom made! And now that you know Ruby is as straight as a rainbow— you're pushing all that on me!"

"Yang–" he's cut off as his daughter continues her rant.

"You ever think that the reason I'm doing all this, fucking anyone with a pair of eyes— is because you've been on my ass about it since I was in diapers? Even after mom died, and you didn't give two shits about your kids' wellbeing, you still made sure to remind us not to date anyone! Not to let anyone use us like fucking objects—"

And Taiyang Xiao Long, at that point, had had enough. He snapped, not thinking of his words before he said them—like he'd done so many times before.

"You think that you're so mature? You've been sheltered in an idealistic mindset where everything revolves around you— that there are no bad things in this world that can't be fixed with your fists or with your body! This is exactly why you're not ready to connect with your mother!"

And he froze after that— realizing that he had said too much, too long after he had said it. Maybe if he didn't look like a deer in the headlights, if he didn't drop his hand to his side in shock— Yang wouldn't have thought twice of his tirade. At least not about that last part. But he did, and soon enough, Yang's expression mirrored her father's.

She felt like she couldn't breathe, and her vision seemed to cut out as her mind short-circuited with the sudden reveal of her own father's betrayal.

"You're why she hasn't replied to my letters?"

The car screeched to a halt, a really painful halt that jolted Yang out of her sleeping haze. It was the kind of stop that slammed heads into windshields, and gave people bruises across their torsos in the shape of their seatbelts— and Mercury remained relaxed in his seat, smiling at Yang's ragged breathing.

"First stop— anywhere!" He inflicted his voice like he was the conductor of the Polar Express or some shit. It seemed like he had forgotten their little spat earlier, and was back to his playful antics. Yang wasn't sure whether to be relieved or not.

"And where exactly is this?" She asked, cracking her neck. Her awkward sleeping position had her stiff all throughout the right side of her body— and it hurt to move in certain directions.

"You'll see!" He replied, almost chipper as he pulled the key from behind the wheel. She really had no choice but to follow, and pushed her door open, despite her arm burning from the movement.

When she stood up, she took a moment to ring her hair out and twist her torso a bit to relieve a little of her stiffness before observing wherever Mercury decided to stop the car. As she looked over the parking lot, and just the parking lot— seeing the pick-up trucks and big ass motorbikes; it was obvious where he had taken her.

"Wow, that's creative, a roadside biker-bar?" She scoffed, resting her hands on her hips.

"Not just any roadside bar," he lectured, licking his lips playfully and dusting himself off as he walked towards the bar. "This one has the best fucking cranberry juice, and the best fucking curly fries you will ever taste. Guaranteed or your money back."

She raised an eyebrow, this was also new. Mercury was acting like a literal child— but not in his impatience or his mischief, rather in this almost innocence that radiated off of him. He seemed almost excited to drink fucking cranberry juice with his arch nemesis. "Yeah, except you're paying."

He shook his head. "For me it's on the house."

And that's when he sped off towards the fucking biker bar at 1 AM, eyes expectant as he nodded his head in the direction of the building, egging her on. As if it were a challenge.

She accepted that challenge.

As they approached the building, she slowed her gait to give the place a once-over. It could've either been described as "homey," with its strings of lights and wooden cabin feel— or as incredibly shady; from the ashy dirt that was comprised of decomposing cigarettes and broken glass, or from the wood that looked ready to collapse with its moldy wetness. Yang shivered, remaining on her guard as Mercury pushed open the saloon-esque doors with a dramatic flair that didn't suit him in an un-ironic setting.

The inside of the bar was different from the outside, still homey and still shady, but not in the same way. The ceiling was decorated with license plates of all sorts, literally no space was left uncovered by license plates. Lights still adorned the place, strung up like ivy, wrapped around the edges of the room and the edges of the bar. There were a few tables, where less than savory people sat, cigarettes perched between index and middle fingers as they stared into tumblers of amber liquid.

The bartender looked comically out of place, with his bow tie and freshly ironed suit. His eyes flickered up to Yang and Mercury as they entered, and he let out a chuckle.

"It's been awhile kid," he called, motioning Mercury over to the bar, already pouring him a glass of something. Yang just followed, ignorant of whatever was happening, but at this point she didn't care.

Mercury nodded, exaggerating the gesture. He did that a lot too— either out of habit, or to be funny. Who knew?

"Yeah, sorry about that," he smirked, drumming his hands on the table in anticipation of whatever the guy was preparing.

The bartender patted Mercury's head fondly, and Yang had to hold her mouth closed to hide her surprise. "Don't be, if you're not here, things aren't as bad there."

Mercury bit his lip, eyes looking down in… shame? He shifted uncomfortably when his gaze darted up to Yang's confused face. She decided not to ask any questions yet, decided to get a feel for the absurd situation first.

"Nah, Junior," so that was his name. Mercury sucked in, jaw twitching, "he just sold my bike."

The bartender, Junior's beady eyes looked like they'd just pop out of his egg-shaped skull. He whistled, either impressed or overwhelmed, and ran his hand across his carefully groomed beard. "Shit, Merc, didn't think he'd have it in him."

"Well he did," Mercury stated in an almost clipped tone, before straightening his slouch to dramatically accept the basket of… curly fries (of course) that Junior pushed towards him. After handing the teen his sustenance, he slid a tumbler (filled with some amber liquid) over with all the class that a bartender can possibly hold.

Yang looked at the drink and raised an eyebrow, "what, no cranberry juice?"

Mercury didn't look her way as he replied, "this is cranberry juice. It's just not that prefab pink shit you're used to." He wiped away the juice sheen that had coated his upper lip.

"Do you not serve kids alcohol or something?" she asked Junior, who leaned into the bar with the force of his gravelly laugh.

"No, Mercury just doesn't drink." Interesting. "I can get you something more… sharp if you'd like, um—"

Mercury answered the unspoken question. "Yang. Or blondie. Or bit—" he was promptly cut off by an elbow to the ribs, causing him to sputter out some of the cranberry juice he was still in the process of swishing around his mouth.

Junior ignored their exchange, before smiling at Yang and continuing. "Yang. I could get you whatever. On the house."

She looked over at Mercury, as if she needed approval for ordering a drink. He just motioned towards the older man expectantly. She held her breath as she decided what to drink, before giving Junior an almost coy whisper. "Do you happen to serve Strawberry Sunrises here?"

Mercury chuckled and Junior went to prepare the drink without a second thought. "I got you in the mood for juice huh?"

"Shut up."

"You wanted to seem more like an adult with your fancy drink names but you literally just asked for vodka drenched juice." He spun around on the barstool as he joked, leaning back as far as he could without falling on his ass.

Yang just narrowed her eyes, unable to combat his quips, or deny that she'd had an unconscious desire for cranberry juice since he'd brought it up on their walk from the car, and didn't want to be obvious (hence, Strawberry Sunrise instead of Cranberry Sunrise. If that was even a thing). Junior slid her drink over just a moment later, complete with a fancy glass, lemon wedge and paper umbrella. After one sip, she was hooked— unable to contain the satisfied hum that bubbled up from her gut.

"Told you so."

"And I told you to shut up."

Mercury shrugged, effectively ending their spat by turning to Junior and flicking a fry at him to get his attention. Once it was grabbed, the teen's childish demeanor was replaced by a more professional one, something that felt both formal and rebellious. Casually adult. "She needs clothes, and a shower. She was caught in the rain—"

"No need to explain yourself, kid. She can borrow some of Melanie or Militia's stuff, they have enough clothes as it is." Junior put a hand up to stop Mercury's explanation, before rotating it to point to the Employees Only door with his thumb. The door was decorated with the same lights, but they were warped to emulate the shape of a bear. Cute.

"Okay. Thanks." Once again, Mercury acts genuine and it throws Yang off. It throws her off a cliff. Before she can regroup, he's leading her by the wrist through the Employees Only door, twisting the door handle (which, at a closer glance seemed to be an old lightbulb— which looked really cool) and yanking it open.

The door opened up to… what looked like the inside of a house. There was homey floral wallpaper, chipped with age around white banisters and mahogany floors. There was an oriental rug surrounded by cushy Victorian chairs that were probably bought from separate yard sales over the course of 20 years. It was the opposite of the skanky, yet welcoming biker bar she'd just been in.

"It's a family run place," Mercury explained, guiding her further into the house. "It's cheaper just to live in the bar than buy a whole separate thing. Plus it's harder to keep a place open 24/7 when your commute is farther than a few feet, I guess."

Yang hummed in agreement, eyes scanning the pictures adorning the walls. Most, if not all of them contained two girls who looked to be twins. Were they…?

"Melanie and Militia." He drawled, answering her unspoken question. "Their dad may be an easygoing guy, but those two are the most uptight brats you'd ever meet. I say this with all the fondness in my heart."

He motioned down the hallway, before instructing "There's a bathroom two doors down, on the left. It connects to a closet with some spare clothes you can wear."

Yang bit her tongue and nodded slowly. "Thanks."

Mercury looked like he was going to say something else. His torso and gait aimed in the opposite direction of his neck which still seemed hesitant to follow as he looked as her. Obviously, it wasn't too important, since he swallowed any words he had and left to another room, leaving her to her own devices.

She reached the bathroom quickly, and struggled to peel off the damp clothing that she had worn for so long. The skin underneath tingled with the exposure to fresh air, cooling down exponentially and sending waves of satisfaction down her spine. It took awhile for the shower's streams to reach a tolerable temperature, but she was so desperate to be rid of the past five or so hours that she just jumped right in— heartbeat sputtering a bit at the freezing water before it acclimated.

Her frazzled hair melted against her skull, the water ironing out each tangle and curl. She leaned her head against the wall in front of her and let out a breath. The longest breath she could recall giving life to. This entire thing was so absurd, really. Who could've thought that she'd be in a duplex biker bar, taking a shower in the room next to her biggest rival? Not Yang, that's for sure.

And he still was her biggest rival, right? He still brandished that lopsided smirk, and used his words as throwing knives whenever somebody attempted conversation with him. There was something else there though, that night, as if he wasn't just poison. He was poisoned as well.

She remembered meeting him. She remembered every time she met him, and every time she wanted to break his nose, to hear the satisfying crunch of cartilage under her impact… but was that all she wanted to do?

She wanted to punch him. Actually, she wanted to grab his dick, rip it off, strangle him with it, and then punch him.

"Yang, I think you're overreacting about this." Blake had a stigma for rolling her eyes as of late. It was something she found herself doing throughout her tireless exchanges with her best friend. "I doubt he's that bad. I mean he's a dick, yeah, but so are half the guys at this school!"

Yang narrowed her eyes, darting them back in forth in caution before spitting, "Mercury Black is not just a dick, he's a fucking sociopath!"

Blake just shook her head, letting out an exasperated sigh. She didn't pursue the topic any further though, since she knew all too well that Yang would do that on her own. Instead, she braced herself for the barrage of a rant that began to spill from the blonde's red lips.

"Seriously, Blake, when was the last time he actually said anything nice to anyone? When was the last time he went to class without making the teacher burst into tears?"

"uh, just now?"

"Shut up." Yang let out a huff of air. "What I'm saying is that he's evil and I must get my revenge!"

"Revenge for what?"

Yang stayed silent for awhile after that, burying her head into the crevices of her elbows which rested on her desk. "I'm angry because he doesn't try. Because everything is such a chore for him unless it's for his own enjoyment. He doesn't feel anything, he doesn't care!"

Blake ran her hand through Yang's hair and along her back, tracing each spinal crevice with utmost care. "Some people don't care about the little things, Yang."

She didn't notice her fist against the blue tiled wall until it started bleeding.

x

x

x

Yang left the shower reluctantly.

Though the hot water had been belated, it felt orgasmic running over her cold skin. She turned the water off and immediately bolted to the towel folded and ready beside the toilet, hoping to dry off before the water soaking her had lost its warmth. She practically scrapes the water off of her flesh, quickly shuffling the towel throughout her heavy locks— leaving them damp, but airy.

Eventually, after drying herself off (save for a few droplets behind her ears and under her joints) she moved on to the closet. Apparently where some changes of clothes were housed.

There are four of those color-coordinated organizing bins stacked vertically, spanning the right half of the closet— while cleaning supplies and a large laundry basket resided on the left. Each bin was labelled with a name, probably written by its owner. The topmost bin was Junior's, characterized by the slanted handwriting and the cartoon bear drawn in sharpie, decorating the blue exterior. The middle two were the twins', obviously. The 'i's were dotted with little hearts and the letters connected into a makeshift cursive that seemed forced.

From Miltia's, she pulls out a neatly folded… something. A something decorated in frills and sequins that prompted bile to build up in Yang's throat. Melanie's was no different, though the clothes were a different color. She continued to dig through the two's clothes, but came up emptyhanded and surrounded by atrocious dresses.

"Does he really expect me to wear these?" Scoffing, she looks to the lowest drawer, surprised to see, in small and compact capital letters: MERC.

He had a bin too, spare clothes and everything, at this biker bar. Was he related to Junior or something? At this point, Yang could care less, preferring Pink Floyd T-shirts and ripped jeans to whatever Melanie and Miltia called clothes.

She shrugged them on quickly at first, but at some point began to relish in it, sighing as the fabric ran along her arms. It didn't occur to her, until she stared at herself in the mirror— that she was wearing Mercury Black's clothes. That she was comfortable in Mercury Black's clothes.

Her heartbeat accelerated with something, maybe embarrassment, sending blood up throughout her cheeks like it was one of those "test your strength" games at a carnival— hammer and all. Instead of dwelling on it, she composed herself and pushed it all aside. This was all temporary. They'd be back at school and shooting quips or fists against each other in no time. He'd be a standoffish dick and she'd make assumptions, and she wouldn't be wearing his shirt.

She shakes her head and walks out of the bathroom, the warm, condensed mist following her into the clearer air of the hallway. Her gait is slow and cautious, unsure of where she'd go next. Whether to find Mercury or just wait.

Her eyes rake the walls as she moves, staring at the pictures adorning them. It felt, at first, like a timeline of the twins. Two identical babies to two identical toddlers to two brace-faced middle schoolers to two sulking teenagers. Of course there's the occasional black and white photo of Junior with a woman who, Yang assumes is the twins' mother. But she pauses at the last photo.

It's small, a polaroid, contained within a thick black frame. It wasn't clear where the photo was taken, since the edges of the image were blury, but there was a whole lot of white. It's of… Mercury? It's obviously a younger Mercury. Pale skin, choppy silver hair framing knifelike cheekbones, and a galaxy of barely noticeable freckles splattered across his complexion. But at the same time, the child in the photo didn't resemble the Mercury she'd grown to hate.

His face, though that of a child, was gaunt and corpse-like. His eyes peered at something past the camera's lens, dilated and unfocused— and he wore a scowl that looked practiced. Well practiced. He didn't look happy, and why the picture was hung next to photos of Disney trips and Homecoming dances was beyond Yang.

"That's the only picture I have of him."

Yang spun sharply to the source of the voice, shifting her foot into a fight-ready position, only relaxing when she saw it was just Junior. He chuckled at her paranoia and scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.

"The first time I met the little shit, Melanie had gotten her hands on an old polaroid camera and took pictures of anything and everything. Mercury included," He elaborated, motioning with his other hand to the photo she was looking at.

"Oh." She couldn't really say anything else.

"Speaking of; the kid told me about how you hate him." Junior's eyebrows raised in an exaggerated manner as he shifted his weight onto his right foot. Yang was prepared for a defense of her self-proclaimed rival, for a scolding, instead Junior just laughs. "He is pretty obnoxious. I get why someone would lose patience with him."

"Would you say that to his face?" She asked, not sure where she wanted to take the conversation.

"I do, every day." He nods his head in an almost frustration as he answered. "He doesn't really connect with people very well. He doesn't really understand the nuances of the human experience, so he does whatever he wants. It's gonna get 'im killed one day."

Some people don't care about the little things, Yang.

"Yeah," Yang whispered, fingers tracing along the edges of the frame before she looked back at Junior. "Where was this taken?"

Junior sighed, like really sighed, as if he knew that question was coming. "The hospital."

"Why?"

"It's not my story to tell."

x

x

x

The voice sounded like it was underwater; flattened by a cushion of liquid and incomprehensible to his ears. He could acknowledge its presence, a droning and muffled scream reaching desperately for a listener. Much like those screams, his surroundings were equally ambiguous, if present at all. It's as if a roll of fractured film was whirling through his cone of vision, snapshots of a life— his life. The scenes had wound themselves into him, it was suffocating.

Claustrophobic. Unending.

An iron door; rusted and weathered, rotting wood frame splintering out around it.

Old shoes on broken porcelain.

A shock of silver hair.

Barbed wire.

Pale and habitually bitten lips, stained with carmine, part to reveal another suppressed scream. He wants to wipe away the soot clogging his throat.

His legs—his unbreakable stance. It buckles, and he feels numb. Grass, tickling feet that weren't there– nails biting into arcs of stance.

A red hot flare boiling his stomach acids.

It hurts. It hurts. It hurts.

It's like he's looking into a mirror. He is looking into a mirror.

There's a snake wrapped around his throat, suffocating him. It tightens every time he tries to rip it off or scream. The snake whispers things to him that nobody else hears.

It hurts. He's tired. He wants it to stop.

x

x

x

"I'm leaving."

"I'll kill you if you leave" the snake says.

"I know."

AN: Hey so this is crossposted from AO3 so 2 updates in 10 minutes haha. Comments are welcome!