The sound of her alarm clock going off was more welcome than usual.

She groaned, emerging tentatively from her covers, daring to expose her arm to the cold, morning air to turn off the harsh beeping. She glanced over at Pyrrha's bed - her roommate was sitting cross-legged, an open book of study notes in her lap. "Morning."

"Hey."

Now, Blake was faced with a tough choice. Her lovely, warm bed. Or Yang. She only hesitated for a moment.

Bed.

She curled up, and glanced at her alarm clock again. 7:01. As soon as it rolled over to ten past, she'd get up. As soon as it rolled over to ten past...

7:50 - Shootshootshootshootshootshoot-

Blake sprung out of bed, wincing as the cold air made her far less comfortable than she'd have liked to be, shut herself in her wardrobe, got dressed, leapt out, shoved her laptop into her backpack, ran her fingers through her hair a few times, adjusted her bow, and charged out the door. Pyrrha blinked a few times, trying to comprehend this. "That's the fastest I've ever seen her move..."

She raced down the stairs, the thumping probably waking up half of the people in the building, reached the door, fumbled for her key, and slammed most of her weight against the glass as she tried to get out as quickly as possible. She started running, glancing at her watch. 7:58, I can make it, I can make it...

As the art school came into view, she spotted Yang - well, Yang's brilliant yellow hair - and heaved a sigh of relief. She stuck one hand in the air, waving, too breathless to call out. She heard Yang's yell a response, but she didn't catch what it was - she was too far away. She bent over, catching her breath, as Yang jogged over.

"Hey."

"Morning," Blake panted, straightening up.

Yang gave her a sympathetic look. "Eight too early for you?"

"Yeah, but don't worry," she said easily, brushing her fringe out of her eyes. "Where are we going?"

"I thought we'd start with breakfast."

With that, Yang grabbed Blake by the wrist, catching her off guard, and led her over to a motorcycle on the side of the path - black and yellow. She grabbed a plain black helmet off the front and threw it at Blake, who only just caught it, and put on her own, clicking the strap. Blake stared down at the one in her hands, then slowly lifted it up, putting it on. "Is this bike...yours?"

"Yep! This is Bumblebee."

Blake cocked an eyebrow. "You named your bike?"

"Why not?" She winked. "We've been through a lot together. Have you ever been on a motorcycle before?"

Blake shook her head no.

"It's pretty logical. There are pegs where you can put your feet. Don't touch the exhaust pipe. Lean with me on the corners. Hang on to my hips. Got it?"

"I think so."

Yang nodded, satisfied, and swung herself onto Bumblebee, patting the seat behind her, signalling for Blake to follow suit. Blake, relatively awkwardly, got on, and placed her hands tentatively on Yang's hips. It struck her that this was the second time she'd ended up with her hand on Yang's waist, but she was surprisingly okay with that - it had been Yang's idea both times, after all.

Yang finally started up the engine, and they sped through the campus. It was far too early for most students to be out, so Yang didn't hold back, twisting the handle (or something - the Faunus wouldn't really know) so that the engine let out a guttural roar.

Blake had never felt the wind in her face like this - the way it tugged at her hair and clothes. The sun warmed her skin, and made Yang's hair a dazzling gold. Blake wondered suddenly if she should have tied her hair back, like Yang had, but she quickly decided she didn't mind if it tangled. She was enjoying herself too much to care. Adrenaline surged through her veins, and her heart, thudding hard, felt light, as if it could burst out of her chest.

She didn't find riding a motorcycle nearly as terrifying as she expected. It was amazing to watch the ground rush past her, and it accelerated and decelerated much faster than other vehicles. But despite the speed, Yang wasn't a reckless driver - the longer it went on, the more Blake noticed how predictable Yang was being. She drove as if she assumed other cars wouldn't see her, even if the only people on the almost deserted roads were professors wanting to get some work done early, navigating their way through the carparks. She was experienced, and Blake definitely believed her when she said she and "bumblebee" had been through a lot.

They pulled up outside a coffee shop, on the far side of the large campus. Blake raised an eyebrow, and Yang simply said, "Breakfast."

Blake had never been to this particular café, but she'd heard of it. It had opened up quite recently, and she knew of a couple of older students at Beacon that had part-time or full-time jobs there. Yang pushed the door open, and stepped out to the counter, ordering a chocolate croissant. The person at the cashier, 'Coco', according to her badge, looked expectantly at Blake.

"Um...the same."

Coco handed a number for their table for Yang, then ducked away to heat up the pastries. Yang glanced around the shop. "Where shall we go?"

Blake shrugged. "By the window will do."

Yang nodded and set down the number so that it could be seen clearly. It wasn't long before the croissants arrived.

"So..." Blake said slowly, before taking a bite of her croissant. "What are we doing?"

"Dunno."

Blake sighed, glaring, feeling like she should have expected this. She wasn't sure if she was more ticked off about the fact that Yang hadn't actually planned anything, that she had been forced to get up at eight o'clock, or that Yang had just spoken with her mouth stuffed full of food.

Yang swallowed down the pastry, then explained. "I wanted you to choose. We've been to a party before, which is more my scene, so I want to do something you enjoy."

Oh. That was sweet. Blake paused. What did she enjoy doing, that didn't involve her nose being in a book? "Um..."

"There's plenty of stuff nearby, if you can't think of anything in particular. Ice-skating, a movie...or we can stay on campus."

"So you've planned for there to be no plan?" Blake said, impressed.

"Exactly."

Blake paused, thinking. Ice-skating didn't sound bad, but..."Actually, I wouldn't mind just walking around. Talking. Or we could go to the library - I haven't explored their collection-"

Blake broke off as one of the staff came over, asking if they wanted a drink before they left. Yang glanced at Blake - you decide.

"Uh, sure. Iced tea, please."

"I'll have a hot chocolate."

The waitress nodded, and moved off. Yang looked over at Blake again. "I'm all for the library, actually. I always mean to read more."

"Wait, really?"

"Yeah, I like romance books. And crime."

Then it suddenly struck Blake, at the word 'romance', that this was turning out awfully like a date. She glanced at Yang, eyeing her warily. Could it be a date? Did Yang mean to do that?

They continued to talk about various things - books, music, politics - but Blake was only half concentrating on the conversation, completely distracted by this bizarre possibility. The more she thought about it, the more likely it seemed to be. Why would Yang say that she couldn't stop thinking about her, in those two years that had past? Two freaking years, and neither of them could forget someone they'd met for about half an hour. Blake was starting to doubtless and less that she liked Yang, a lot. In fact, she'd been ready to admit that to herself for a long time. But could Yang like her back? What were the chances? Slim, yes, but there was so much evidence that it could be possible. Yang had actually put a fair bit of effort into this outing - remembering a helmet for Blake, having multiple backup plans, and coming to this particular place seemed deliberate, on top of doing what Blake wanted to do - but why? Why would she bother?

Blake sighed. She refused to let her imagination get carried away. She'd have to wait, and maybe it would become clear, one way or another. But by assuming this was a date, it was highly likely that she'd end up being disappointed.

She jumped back suddenly as Yang waved a hand in front of her face. "Helloo? Blake?"

"Ah- sorry! Just...zoned out."

Yang nodded, placing her hands around her drink to warm them up. "Fair enough. What were you thinking about?"

Blake paused. She didn't want to say schoolwork - Yang might think she was bored with this. "Um...you know, just...Faunus rights and...stuff. I mean," she glanced hastily around, feeling like she had to roll with this now, her guilt growing as she lied. "There isn't a single Faunus working here. Or anywhere, really. You lot get all the jobs, just because of your race."

Yang's gaze softened "That's why you wear the bow, then."

Blake nearly heaved a sigh of relief. She hated lying like that, but it was definitely better than, 'Oh, I was just wondering if you had any romantic attachment to me.'

"Y'know," Yang said slowly, "I wouldn't necessarily blame Faunus for joining organizations like the White Fang. They're treated pretty badly."

Blake raised an eyebrow. "The White Fang is a terrorist group."

"I know, I know. But if it were me, I'd want to fight."

The Cat Faunus shrugged. "Violence isn't the answer."

Yang nodded, and took another sip of her hot chocolate. "But at least you'd be doing something about what you believe in."

Blake blinked. "If you were a Faunus, you think you'd join the White Fang?"

Yang winced. "I never said that. They're still criminals. But people have got to admit they have a decent motive."

"Murder is still murder."

Yang waved her hand dismissively. "Let's not talk about the White Fang. It's depressing."

Blake nodded, and sipped her tea.

They walked down to the library slowly. They'd decided the walk was nice, so Bumblebee was left behind - they would walk back, then ride back to that building full of Canadian students, whatever it was called. Where Yang was. Blake wasn't sure if suggesting this was the best idea - sure, if parties were Yang's domain, this was definitely hers. But she wanted Yang to have a good time too. At least I can get some actually work done. Lo and behold, romantic pro Blake Belladonna at work. Not.

"So, Blake, do you expect there will be anything in this library you haven't read?" Yang teased, nudging the Faunus.

Blake narrowed her eyes playfully. "50% chance. And what about you? Will there be anything in this library you have read?"

Yang winked. "50% chance. Ooh, hang on!"

Blake slowed her stride, looking back as Yang stopped under a blossom tree. The blonde leapt up, snapping a small, thin branch off it. Blake only just suppressed a laugh. "How Lizzie Bennet of you."

Yang frowned, confused, and Blake's eyes widened. "She has a habit of picking branches off trees. Please don't tell me you haven't watched the BBC version of Pride and Prejudice."

"What? I haven't even read the book."

Blake resisted the strong urge to face-palm, grinning. "Yang, that's worse!"

Yang shrugged, and handed her the tree branch, which was thick with pale pink blossoms. "It's for you."

Blake blushed a little. "Oh, thanks. Why?"

Yang shrugged. "Why not?"

Is this flirting?!

Yang bounded up the steps as the library came into view. Blake had been to a lot of libraries, but Beacon's was something special. The vice-chancellor, Professor Ozpin, had gone out of his way to invest in having the largest library of any university in the country. There was no way anyone could have read every book here, because the library had much more than books - it kept old newspapers, records and such for student's research. It had hundreds of paper books, and thousand more digital ones students could access. Free access to documentaries, music, for the music students, and as Yang would quickly discover, a series called Red vs Blue, presumably for media studies.

They scanned their ID cards at the front desk, before being allowed to roam through the shelves. The pair exchanged a glance, then made for the fiction section. Yang quickly found a Graphic Novel, (Blake wasn't about to criticise - any Graphic Novel was better than Twilight, unless it was the Twilight Graphic Novel, which made her want to throw up,) while the Faunus searched for some actual books to recommend for her. It wasn't long before a few relatively large piles formed. Yang gave Blake a quizzical look. "You know there's no way I'm going to get through that."

Blake shrugged, pulled up a beanbag for herself, and grabbed a random one off the top.

They sat in silence for about 20 minutes, before Yang finally asked, "Why do you like reading so much?"

Blake didn't respond. Yang blinked, then leaned over, tapping her on the shoulder. "Blake?"

"Huh? Oh, sorry. What did you say?"

"Why do you like books so much?"

Blake paused, looking up a the ceiling, resting her head on the bookshelf behind her. "I love the characters. And the settings. I love being taken somewhere else. You get to see so many walks of life from so many perspectives."

Yang frowned. "But it's all fictional."

Blake sighed, then closed her book. "You know Jesus, right?"

"Yeah, who doesn't? Wait, you're not going to make me read the Bible, are you?"

"God no. Nothing like that. But according to the bible, he tried to teach people things by telling them parables. Stories. Right?"

"Um..."

Blake paused. "Like the Good Samaritan one. A lawyer asked Jesus who his neighbour was, if he was meant to be kind to those people. Jesus replied with something like, 'A Jew was beaten up and robbed by a group of criminals, and thrown onto the side of the road, left to die. A priest passed him, but didn't help.' So did a Levite - both of these people were individuals that the Jews listening to his speech would have regarded as noble, because of their status, but they wanted nothing to do with the dying man. The priest didn't want to risk touching a dead person for religious reasons, and the Levite didn't want to in case he got into trouble with the group that beat up the man in the first place. So all the Jews listening would have been thinking, 'Oh, an ordinary Jew, like us, is going to come along and help him, and be his neighbour', but it wasn't a Jew. It was a Samaritan."

"The Samaritans and the Jews hated each other. They were enemies. But the 'Good Samaritan' helped the Jew, taking him to an inn, paying for the accommodation and medical stuff, giving the innkeeper some money, saying 'Use this to take care of him - I'll come back in a few days to pay you anything else you spend healing him.'"

Yang interrupted. "Wait, how do you know this?"

"I went to a Catholic middle school. Our teacher was awesome. He explained things in a really funny way - apparently Adam and Eve were really fond of vegetarian lasagna."

"Oh. Well, I wouldn't blame them. Do you believe any of it?"

"No, my really. Anyway, that was Jesus's answer to the lawyer's question. So, who was the Jew's neighbour? The other, upper-class Jews, who would have left him to die, or his enemy, who saved his life?"

"The Samaritan."

"Right, so through a fictional story, Jesus was saying, 'It's not about what group a person comes from - everyone is your neighbour, even your enemy, so go do the same to them.' That's why I like reading so much - the authors of all of these books," she gestured to the pile, "Have something to say that's worth listening to."

Yang blinked, looking a little stunned. "Huh. Wait, so was Jesus an author?"

Blake shrugged. "Kind of."

Yang frowned. "Wait, did Jesus write the bible? Because that would make him, like, a bestseller-"

"Jesus didn't write the bible."

"Oh, okay. Nevermind."

Blake rolled her eyes. "I take it you're not religious then?"

"Nope." Yang paused, then eyed the pile of books. "Which one should I read first?"

Blake paused, grinned deviously, then tossed her The Shining, a Stephen King horror book. Blake wasn't terribly affected by horror stories, but she knew other people found it terrifying. "Try this one. It demonstrates another thing I like about books - it makes you feel things."

Yang raised an eyebrow. "Is this a feelsy war romance? Because I know this great one by this Australian guy-"

"No, it's not a romance. This is something else entirely."

"Oh, okay."

"Hey, do you mind if I go and do some research for a Gender Studies thing?"

There was no reply. Blake tried again. "Yang?"

"Wha- oh, yeah, go ahead..."

Blake grinned, and got up. When she returned, she was surprised to find Yang was still reading the horror book. In fact, while Blake got a considerable amount of work done, Yang just sat there in silence, reading. Blake could hardly believe it. She actually watched for a couple of minutes to see if Yang was turning the pages. Finally, she spoke.

"...Blake?"

"Hm?"

"...this is actually terrifying." Yang's voice was shaking.

"Yang, it's not real. It's just words on a page."

"It's not just words on a page. God, this is actually..." then she fell silent, reading again.

Blake smiled. She nearly jumped when Yang spoke again.

"Stephen King really does have terrible grammar. This sentence doesn't even have a full stop."

Blake smiled. "Yeah, but it's intentional. It mixes up the pace, replicating the choppy way in which we think when we're panicking."

"Writers are really clever people."

"Yeah, they are..."

The Shining was actually a really long book - at least 400 pages long. But Yang read all of if quietly, sitting there. She wasn't completely still; she changed her position a few times, and her thumb tapped on her knee during the scary bits, but Blake was impressed. Really impressed. It has taken her a few days to read that book, but Yang was racing through it, and she wasn't half as well read. At least, not to Blake's knowledge. But Yang, although not a bookish person, appeared to be a fast, focused reader.

Finally, she heard the satisfying sound of a book closing. Yang glanced up at her. "You know that feeling you get when you walk out of a movie? Like, that 'what is the meaning of life' kind of feeling?"

"Yeah?"

"This feels like that."

"Stephen King is a good writer."

"Huh. Which one next?"

Blake blinked. "You're going to read another?"

"Yeah, why not? I may as well borrow a couple too - there's no way I'm going to sleep tonight. Like, at all."

Blake checked her watch - four hours had passed. 400 pages in four hours. She leant over, examining the pile. "Have you read The Book Theif?"

"No, I haven't."

"It's brilliant. Try that one."

About three hours and three hundred pages later, Blake decided they should probably all if a day here. Yang was pretty disappointed, but she borrowed three books, with the intention of finishing them before the week was out. Blake was slightly shocked, but also amused at herself. She could go on and on about how dynamic and complex a fictional character could be, but she often forgot that real people were the same. Yang was much more than the extraverted party-goer that Blake thought she knew. She was also bright enough to get in to Beacon - perhaps it shouldn't have been such a surprise that she read so quickly, as being able to do so would mean Yang could probably excell while doing a little less work than the rest of them. She appeared to be good at reading other people. And though it didn't look it, all of her actions must have been very deliberate and thought through, right down to remembering a second helmet for Blake to use on the way back to Yang's dormitory. And that also meant that the goofy, warm blonde cared.

Blake smiled to herself as they left the library. Maybe she had found someone she could trust.