Once more, I rise from my slumber to discover way too much time has passed. Christ, by the time I finish this story, I'll be five years older.
What struck Ren was how empty his apartment was.
He'd been dreading this visit for a while now, Kuriyuri's apartment. He'd thrown himself so single-mindedly into the investigation partly to just avoid this, sticking to the outside world, taking every crumb of new information as an excuse to distract himself, and when it came down to it he settled with taking refuge on an SDC couch and enduring the odd stares of the staff rather than return to his home.
He couldn't avoid it forever, he knew that. It was his apartment, it was bound to be sitting on a treasure trove of information about the man he was supposed to be before, and if there was any chance of more unofficial documentation of SDC activity that wouldn't have been hidden by his bosses, it'd be within Kuriyuri's possession. So, now that he was out of leads to chase up, he had no choice but to bring himself up several flights of stairs and drag himself through that door.
And it was so empty.
Ren always saw himself as a minimalist sort of guy, he didn't speak up much, he didn't move around a lot, he liked his space and he didn't tend to keep much out in the open. But even for him, the complete lack of character in this apartment was too much. It was a very basic set up, just a couch, a coffee table, a counter, a tiny narrow bed and four plane white walls. No posters, no photos, no mess; not even a single potted plant.
The closest thing to character within the room was an empty wooden board hanging from the furthest wall (presumably to mount some sort of display or artefact on), and the small stack of wrinkled paper piled up on the coffee table. Had this been the sole thread of Kuriyuri's life and ambitions? His work? Was this all Ren had to live up to or surpass? I hate to admit it, but I was actively hoping there was a beer can or copious mess strewn about. Something to prove someone lived here. That I had a life.
He made his way over to the coffee table through tepid steps, his eyes failing to find a single element to latch onto that wasn't his original target. No windows, he noted, which suddenly made him feel the urge to tug his collar and free himself from a phantom heat burning with his every idle nerve. I can't imagine I would leave important documents lying around where anyone could find them, Ren mulled over as he settled himself in the confines of the admittedly comfortable couch with the stack dropped on his lap, but I have nowhere else to look.
He threw himself straight into it, hoping he'd hit upon something relevant in a matter of pages and be out of here before the dreariness could really set in. No such luck blessed Ren, he didn't find so much as a grocery list. He found printed out articles explaining poker, he found advertisements for vacation spots that 'Mrs Schnee' would prefer, he found a men's shoe catalogue, he found a whole page dedicated to listing the first three hundred prime numbers; there was nothing there. Not even half-way through the stack and Ren was already quite convinced that no senseless test or drawn-out essay could ever compare to the pure mockery of reading meaningless drivel that might very well not even lead him to something relevant to his case.
You haven't the resolve to continue. Let. Go.
It would have been more bearable if Nora had been there. She made everything more bearable, more understandable. Even the most complex problems, ones that Nora had no understanding of, ones she admitted made her feel stupid sometimes; she made them seem so simple. She'd come in, shoulder the weight of confusion and give a more direct appraisal of the questions that narrowed everything down to the important parts. She'd bulldoze her way into his heart like a hurricane and then laugh it off like it was nothing special, like she was nothing special.
It would have been bearable if Jaune had been there. He made everything more awkward, but bearable all the same. He wouldn't always have the right answer, or he would have the right answer but lack the confidence to consider it. In other words, he'd bumble. Ren didn't consider that in an insulting light, no, Ren saw it as a charm, as a skill in of itself in some respects. Jaune would make such an earnest effort to help, obsessively splutter out tiny details that inform a sensible thought process, inadvertently push Ren towards the right answer and then apologize for imposing.
Why did you think you could do this alone?
It would have been more bearable if Pyrrha had been there. He couldn't explain why, it just would be. She wouldn't have the answer, she wouldn't have the strategy, she wouldn't have the speech. She'd just be there, and that's all he'd need for her magic to work.
Why did you think you could do this at all?
It would have been more bearable if his family was still whole. He lost his parents to the Grimm. He lost his leader to Cinder. He lost his team to the scars of Beacon's fall. He at least thought he'd have built up some numb defence against the pain of loss, but losing everything to this reality struck him as deep and as fresh as his first time.
Struggle only prolongs the pain. Why persist in a futile gesture of shallow hope?
Ren's body curled over the table, a wave of nausea striking hard like a sucker punch straight to the neck. Thoughts, doubts, fears all bubbled to the surface in one unnatural surge, tinged with a voice he could not recognise as his own. They built up upon each other, mental protests solidifying in his throat, crushing his windpipe until he could feel his lips failing to call forth his breath. He was shutting down, his heart was screaming to be freed from his crumbling body and a sudden drop in temperature caused his skin to prickle.
He couldn't believe it. He knew he had his doubts and pain weighing him down, but this sudden panic gripping him in an iron vice and dragging him under was unreal. If he did not feel like he was on the verge of popping like a balloon, he would have questioned where this sweeping wave of pressure came from. But he was back on the boat, his teammates scattered to the fog, a thick tendril made of shadows and teeth digging into his stomach and dragging him into the ice-cold embrace of the abyss.
All he could do was fall.
Think about Nora's corpse and fall.
Think about Yang's screams and fall.
Think about the fake life that no longer mattered and fall.
Fall so deep his lungs were fit to burst from the pressure, until it ripped apart his heart and drowned him in a sea of blood.
But then he was back in the diner, friendly faces surrounding him, not as many as he would have wished, nor were they spared from the scars of tragedy, but they were friendly faces he loved all the same. They were there on the boat with him facing down the same demons both inside and out, they too were met with this cruel twist of fate and they too suffered.
All he could do was steady himself.
Think about Ruby smiling for everybody no matter how much it hurt her cheeks, and steady himself.
Think about Jaune sticking it out even when his heart wasn't in it, and steady himself.
Think about Blake opening her heart with little hesitation, and steady himself.
Think about that terrible, terrible uniform, and steady himself.
Think about all the time and opportunities he still had left, and steady himself.
He wasn't alone. This wasn't impossible. This wasn't a distraction. He still had a life left to lead, people to fight for and memories to make. Keep moving forward, Ruby had said. Keep moving forward, those who weren't here would say, you must keep moving on.
And suddenly it was like the brief episode had never happened, a blink was all it took for him to find himself laying flat against the carpet, staring up at the blank ceiling with a sore throbbing coming from the back of his head. He didn't know how long he'd been there, at least long enough that his tongue had dried and developed that tangy morning taste that made your gums curdle, long enough that a stray ray of sunshine now poured through his window and perfectly highlighted his coffee table.
What was that? Ren thought to himself as he reminded himself to breathe once more. He just couldn't wrap his head around it. His heart threatening to break through his ribs, his lungs contorting worse than a smoker after their hourly pack, his skin secreting enough sweat to solve a drought in Vacuo; he'd never felt such convulsions take hold of his body like that. At least, not without the presence of an active, life-threatening danger or in the aftermath of a great tragedy. Certainly not while safe and alone in the comfort of his apartment. Lie Ren had never been prone to panic attacks, but then again… Could it be that, perhaps, Kuriyuri was? The thought actually brought life to a small smile. Panic attacks certainly weren't a pleasant topic, but it was something of substance, a trait, a dab of colour to give character to the blank portrait that was Kuriyuri. "Something that proves Kuriyuri was a person."
With that 'bitter sweet' thought steeling his nerves for the moment, Ren pulled his torso forward to sit up, ready to return to his ordeal of a hundred monotonous pages. However, as he did so, the light caught his eye again, stinging his gaze with it's golden glow. In his efforts to turn away and shield himself, he found himself taking in the table once again, how the light highlighted it; or, to be more accurate, what was underneath the table.
Through the glass top the area under the table, that had initially just been darkness, was alight with a new perspective. It showed him two items, toys if you'd believe it, that had seemingly been collecting dust for the months he was away, two items that immediately struck a chord with him: a wooden dagger and a wooden mallet. They'd once been a present for his father, and then a gesture of trust for Nora, and then… Huh, he didn't know when he'd last seen them, where he left them after Kuroyuri Village was reduced to ruins.
It didn't take long for Ren's thought process to draw a link between Kuriyuri and those object's own significance. If everything in the simulation was influenced by the users, then it wasn't just the characters that hold some connection to the user, but even the important items as well. And before he even had time to mull it over, another thought struck him, a reminder of the only other noticeable detail the room had, a wooden mount that looked like it could hold two separate items.
Hey, it wasn't like he had a better lead.
Ren wasted no time snatching the two items off the floor and jumping to his feet, a burst of excitement flushing throughout his body. Like an impatient child waiting for midnight to strike the official start of their birthday, Ren bolted over to the source of his energy boost, hands trembling as they held the toys up and pushed them into place.
A seconds passed.
His breath trembled.
The wall next to the display swung free like an open door and Ren felt, for the first time since arriving in this reality, like his heart truly enjoyed a moment of peace.
I believe, at a time like this, I'm supposed to say 'Jackpot'. The hidden room wasn't particularly large, more the size of a broom closet, but compared to the wider living room this little closet was stuffed to the brim with content. Folders upon folders stacked so high they were leaving cracks in the ceiling, the only thing stopping gravity from tipping them over being the utter compact set up. Ren was just happy the folders seemed to be labelled with dates, because he was not looking forward to having to brave plucking any of the files from this makeshift Jenga tower. "Alright Kuriyuri, let's see what you and Miss Schnee have been up to."
The honeymoon phase of his discovery seemed to sour quicker than he expected as poured out the contents of the most recent file on the counter, faced with handwritten notes and descriptions that would be the first true look Ren could ever grasp into his forgotten identity. The dates seemed to be separated by six month periods, clumping together multiple short-term cases into one folder and, sparing no detail, painted a dreary picture of a busy life. Kuriyuri was certainly meticulous and hardworking, Ren could say that for sure.
The writings weren't a professional write-up to be submitted to a superior, they were a drawn out affair, written under the assumption that only one eye would ever see the contents, written like diary entries that delved into every errant thought Kuriyuri had at the moment whether it was considered pertinent information or not. When recalling an entire week spent stalking a target, a potential SDC traitor selling company secrets, Kuriyuri found it prudent to list the man's inconsistent coffee orders with speculation on whether or not this reflects an indecisive attitude. An addendum to his testimony of 'fire-related accident' erupting on a target's property, assuring himself that he would have used a more effective reactive agent if any of the local dust shops sold the measurements he needed. A reminder to himself of what injuries he can cause to a target without compromising potential intel gain or contracts.
Kuriyuri has such a cold and disconnected voice in Ren's head, a voice that was clean of ticks or accents, that didn't shake or stumble. He described his job, how he did his job and how he could do his job, even when writing only for himself he couldn't inject any life into his thoughts. There was only the objective, nothing else, not even an opinion or a question.
The final case, presumably, before the gang took their plunge into virtual space took up nearly half the folder. The dates indicated that Kuriyuri's part in the job was over a four-month span, with every day a multi-page slew of activity, all revolving around one man. A scientist, Norman Draumskrok. There was no information on why the man was important, what Willow wanted with him or how much Kuriyuri was even told about the situation, just that Willow needed him scared enough to agree to something.
The scare tactics started with the 'regular' strategies, threatening messages with enough solid information to make the man nervous, circulating nasty rumours through the man's co-workers, driving wedges in his social circle, cut him of from certain benefits, dig out family tragedies and time-sensitive conditions; lay on the pressure and set up possible motives for others to be framed for whatever fate you had instore, all before you even approach him with the offer. When the foundation was laid down, Kuriyuri wrote to confirm that he planned to visit the good doctor. The page after there was no elaboration on the meeting itself, only a remark that he thought someone was following him and that Willow had requested his presence immediately.
The part that stuck out to Ren was the picture of the man; a pudgy fellow with flushed skin, a mop of ginger strings darkened by sweat and oil frame two pale green eyes that only expressed worry. Ren didn't recognise the name at all, he wasn't a character in the simulation, but the man himself tugged on some semblance of recognition. The next page was blank, but held another picture, this one more directly familiar as Ren remembered the sharp features of Robyn Hill's defiant glare quite well. There were three photos: One was clearly taken from a news broadcast of her giving a speech with the headline 'Mantle's Sweetheart Speaks Out Against the SDC'. Another was framed by bushes, peering into an apartment window where Robyn was sprawled out on the floor in a mess of pink dust, an empty syringe jammed in her arm. The final one gave more context to her relevance, Kuriyuri taking up half the shot as he aimed the camera at himself from the front seat of his car, Robyn quite clearly parked behind him with a notepad and binoculars obscuring her lips, completely ignorant to being caught in the act.
"Robyn Hill was following him," he concluded, flicking back through the recent pages, all the little sentences of Kuriyuri being suspicious about having a tail now jumping out at him. "She must have been investigating the SDC, looking for leverage or dirt on them… Could the guy I was threatening have been a whistle-blower? Either way, Kuriyuri found her out and took care of her." Whether taking care of her meant throwing her in a deep dark cell where no one will hear her again or a 'disappearing' act, Ren didn't want to ask.
It was an odd feeling, repulsed by the information itself, but also relieved at obtaining it. It was a lead, a foothold in a battlefield of ambiguity, some solid information that could paint a cohesive picture. The 'Robyn Hill' incident was becoming a clear centre point of their past. Robyn Hill, who Jacques said Ironwood was mimicking, was against the SDC and looking for ways to weaken their monopoly on the dust industry. She was shadowing Kuriyuri's operation and possibly after the target as well. Kuriyuri caught on, presumably the rest of the group were involved in neutralizing her as a threat, but the aftermath had the group escaping into the simulation until things died down.
It wasn't pleasant to think about, but damn did Ren appreciate finally obtaining some sort of structure to all this.
All things considered, the street view was almost fantastical in the most mundane way. It was a nice collection of small, comfy looking houses. The type you'd expect out of your average suburb, all arranged neatly in two tight lines on either side of a dented street, laundry lines and picket fences stretching out into cramped backyards and sharp street corners. It was normal. Too normal. Where the upper district of the city was industry and progress towering above active crowds in technology-infested skyscrapers, this down town area was so simple and quaint. You'd never have realized it was just a section of an underwater city until you stepped out of it.
Ruby couldn't so much as recall at what point their path transitioned to this area, she could only remember navigating a crowded street corner one blink and then hobbling past tiny houses. How couldn't she have noticed the shift when the mere sight was enough to make her feel… Something. Uneasiness? Relief? Confusion? Suspicion? Was the street dead, or quiet? Out-of-place, or humble? Ominous, or comforting? All she could decide on was that dwelling on this sensation was certainly going to end in frustration.
"It's a nice neighbourhood." She concluded with an utter lack of conviction in her voice, tying up that loose thought and burying it.
Next to her, Jaune just stood out. He always had that talent of looking out of place and, in the nicest way possible, suspicious. It was like looking at a segment of an art piece that was a completely different art style to the rest of the piece. Even now, the way his awkward and tightly drawn together stance that projected 'I don't belong here', the way his eyes peered across the different houses like he was expecting trouble to jump out at any minute, the way he muttered inanely to himself. If she didn't know the man, or loved him so much, her first thought upon seeing him would be that he perfectly encapsulated the characters from all those 'Spotting Potential Criminals' PSA's she watched back in school.
"Lotta fences. Very secure." She couldn't tell if Jaune was responding to her comment, speaking in that same loose and quiet tone he used for the rest of his unintentionally voiced thoughts as he rasped his knuckles against said fences to 'prove' his point. "And the people here seem real friendly."
Ruby snorted, "Okay, you don't have to say it like that."
He jumped, lending credence to the idea of him being in his own little world. With all movement coming to an abrupt halt, Jaune ended up with half of his torso hovering inches over a fence post. He wasn't leaning on it, and judging by his insistence on looking away from Ruby, he probably assumed that this awkward detail was hidden from her perspective. That he smoothly covered up his surprise. "Like what?" A cough, an extra octave, an idle jittering sway to his elbow; completely natural.
"Y'know, that judgey tone." Ruby took a great delight in slowly reaching over and pushing Jaune's shoulder down so that he was actually in the natural pose, beaming up at him with a smug, self-satisfied smirk.
Knowing that any fight against Ruby's eyes was suicide, Jaune opted to grunt, quickly glance at her to assert that he was not amused through narrowed gazes and then completely turn away from her. Weiss would have been so proud of such a 'graceful' dismissal. "My tone was not 'judgey'. I was giving a compliment."
"Yeah," Ruby dragged out the last 'ah' into a soft hum, acting as the backing track as she tip-toed up to his side, rested her cheek against his arm and finished her sentence in a harsh whisper. "through gritted teeth."
"What do I have to be judgemental about?" Jaune enjoyed the squeaky 'eep' she let out when his forefinger prodded her forehead, pushing her off his arm. "That no one here looks like they've done time for peeping on their neighbour?"
Now indignant, Ruby puffed her cheeks and bound her arms across her chest. "I don't know, you're the one with the tone!"
Where Ruby closed off her body language and pulled away, Jaune opened up, throwing his arms out and pushing his chest forward to leer over her. Matching her underacted childish display with an overacted childish display. "There is no tone. This is a tone free zone. My voice-" He stopped himself in the middle of his high pitched rant to beat his fingers against his chest, clear his throat and continue under a softer tone. "My voice is like an abyss of emotion." He drew his fingers together over his lips, breathed in, pulled them down to his chest, and breathed out. He had no idea what he was mimicking, but he always saw people do this when they wanted to communicate inner peace or something. "You're just making up reasons to stall."
"I am not!" She shrieked before she could realize there was nothing to be defensive about, shoving an accusatory finger into his chest. "Besides, you're the one who's supposed to be knocking."
His entire body language seemed to shrink to Ruby's level, his shoulders hunching together and voice taking on that whiny edge of a child asking his mother for 'five more minutes'. "Why do I have to be the one to knock?"
Ruby enthusiastically gestured between him and the house that the two had been refusing the look at this entire time. "It's your house, your wife and your kid!" It didn't look any different than the other homes on the block, the sign nailed to the front door was too faded to tell onlookers who owned the property and neither of them had so much as glanced at the address since they arrived in the area. And yet, they could tell the moment they laid eyes on it. Something stirred in them, a bitter-sweet mixture of awkward dread and warm nostalgia. They'd been here before.
"Not my house or my wife anymore." He didn't speak with any aggression or confidence, his voice droning on and caught in the middle of a sigh. He was objecting for the sake of objecting, in the same manner as he looked for the sake of looking and complained for the sake of complaining. The argument drew his attention, kept him focused on anywhere but where they were going, who they had to confront. Jaune didn't know if he'd ever feel ready for this.
Ruby didn't seem to share his desire for delays, grabbing hold of his shirt and tugging him up the path. Of course, when you're a 5 foot nothing girl with leg problems pulling a man who would look like a mountain to you in a few more inches, tugging doesn't actually get you very far. Luckily, after a few seconds of watching Ruby bounce back against her own grip with each failed yank, Jaune was kind enough to inch forward and give the illusion of success. In no time, the two were faced with the final barrier to entry, the front door. "Just knock and get it over with."
"Or," Jaune pressed his hands together, tapping his chin against his finger tips and shooting Ruby his best impression of an 'intellectual's' wagging eyebrows. "you could do it."
"I don't want to!" Five steps forward, ten steps back into the frey, the argument burning anew as Ruby wagged her finger at him. A clear gesture of ideological war.
This time, Jaune took the direct approach, treating Ruby to an onslaught of divisive finger pokes right into her chest. Nothing conveyed the logical and serious nature of your rebuttal like the sharp edge of your bony finger. "Well I can't do it, it'd be too awkward!"
Alas, the contact seemed to have no effect on her, Ruby easily pushing aside the offending finger and crushing it against her palm. "Awkward for you? I'm the third wheel here." She leaned back, tightening her arms under her chest, her eyes lighting up with intrusive thoughts left o fester for hours on end as she emphasised the word 'third wheel'. I'm the ex-girlfriend walking him to meet the better ex-girlfriend he downgraded from to date me; no one here gets to be more uncomfortable than me right now.
Despite Ruby's insistence, Jaune continued to push forward with his pouting and physical pleading, leaning over her this time in hopes that the physicality would triumph where his finger poking failed. "You're supposed to be my emotional support."
"And I'll emotionally support you." Without missing a breath, Ruby leaned away from Jaune, confidently shooting twin-finger guns back towards the street. "From over by that gate." However, it soon became clear, between the disapproving staring matches and two constantly dancing around each other to strategically place the other closer to the door, fighting stubbornness with stubbornness wasn't going to get them anyway. So, as any good leader would do, Ruby switched tactics. She adopted a loser stance, not so much leaning into Jaune as much as sliding down him, draping herself over his biceps and gazing up at him with those fluttering, irresistibly adorable eyes she always flashed when she needed her (ex) boyfriend to agree with her. "Just knock on the door, she already invited us over." Her voice was dainty and slow, mimicking the princesses of old from the cartoons she used to watch religiously. Not that she lost interest for those films, but Weiss labelled them as 'illicit contraband' after everyone kept making jokes about her being like one of them.
Jaune knew this tactic well, his instincts firing up the red alert and pushing him to tear his eyes from the hazard radius. But Ruby was ready, already moving to rest her cheek flat against his chest, putting her in just the right position where it was difficult to crane his neck in any other direction without being uncomfortable. "But what if she forgot and sends me away?" Weak protests were the only defence the boy had left.
"Only one way to find out." Somehow, she managed to sound like she was whispering directly into his ear despite being turned away from it. Her hand lazily rose up, pushing her finger to vaguely gesture towards the bright red button marking the doorbell.
He groaned. "I don't want to find out."
She shrugged. "Neither do I."
Both pouted. "Well, one of us is gonna have to nut up and-"
Pyrrha squinted hard.
"Are you two going to come in?" They didn't know how long Pyrrha had been standing there, the mere realization of her presence sending shockwaves of ice over them and rooting them in place. It was a moment where every memory of being caught by a parent somewhere they weren't supposed to be hit them at full force. And then they glanced over to their side, noting a long set of windows that wrapped around the side of the house and gave a perfect view of the front lawn, and realised she might have been watching them since they reached the fences.
In that moment, the two dorks could only awkwardly stretch their fake smiles over their faces and force enough laughter to suggest there was some genius hidden joke that made all this more sensible. Pyrrha's expression remained neutral, but the occasional twitch from her cheeks to her lips betrayed far more disparaging features held together by tightly wound knots. "Because it's been ten minutes and you're starting to scare the neighbours." When her lips pulled outwards to reveal teeth, the wave of frustration swept over them like bad breath, the two sets of gnashers visibly sawing layers of bone off with how harsh they grounded into one another.
"P-Pyrrha." Jaune had prepared and rehearsed the perfect greeting in advance, but none of those well-intentioned and warm words so much as reached the tip of his tongue in this instance. Say the first thing that comes to mind, he told himself, anything's better than staring at her in silence. "It's you." His eyes widened at how unintentionally dismissive he managed to make his tone. I was wrong, dead silence is best. How did so much go wrong in only two words?
"Yes. I live here. And I invited you here." The only silver lining he could find amidst this abysmal greeting was that his words hit Pyrrha as suddenly as they did him. Her face broke away into a stretched out look of shock, her eyes falling back into processing mode as she tried to grab at the shards of her previous emotional mask. Like a computer trying to interpret conflicting data she seemed to just malfunction for a moment before just ignoring the error completely and going straight to the next usable line in the programming. Still, she could not shake that hesitant and unsure tone from her voice. "You always were the perceptive one."
Jaune nervous ticks flared up, grabbing the sides of his face in a vice-like grip and throwing his head forward like he was about to drop down and grovel. With each expression, those expressions that felt so alien, so wrong on Pyrrha's face, she made his skin catch on fire. "Sorry, sorry, I know…" You can't keep doing this, he repeated again and again and again, this is important, you can't let everything slip through your fingers. Not now. Not her. Breathe. And so he did. He breathed, he stopped, he went silent. He pulled himself together. It wasn't stable, he knew that, he was a bundle of nerves and guilt with as much structural integrity as a house of cards. But he refused to crumble, not now, not when Ruby is backing him up and Pyrrha's in front of him. "You wouldn't believe how nerve racking this is right now-"
He immediately crumbled when a tiny blur with the power of a freight train slammed into his house of cards and turned him into the world's cheapest-looking deck of Jokers. A pair of chubby fists collided with the top of his head, bringing with it a flurry of excited giggles and a hot, squishy hug.
A small child wrapped in an adult sized sweater clutched onto his arm, and like a brick wall, Jaune couldn't move. Or rather, he wanted to, but the child held the entire weight of his body across his arm and shoulder like a shield. The only saving grace was that the boy was oblivious to Jaune's desire to escape, instead just digging his toes in deeper and holding on tighter, as if daring anyone else to try and steal his father away from him.
"Daddeee!" A smile lit up the boy's face, and Jaune found there was no choice but to smile back. He had to be the cutest thing ever.
"Daddy?" From those growing sprouts of blond hair mirroring Jaune's old spikes, those fingers that fit perfectly between his own, those wide green eyes he recognised as Pyrrha's. It hit him, there was no doubt that this boy was his son. And so happy to see Jaune, so enthusiastic to see him, so damn delighted. And that lone thought made his heart swell, drawing that sensation of warmth you get when sipping a warm mug of something hot on a cold winter day. "T-That's right, Sport. It's me. Daddy."
"I missed you." Jaune slowly relaxed, letting the boy cling to him and smiling back as best as he could. He knew exactly what this was. This was love. Love and joy, and more love. This feeling, it was of something he had no memory of, something that should be alien to him as far as he knew, but he felt it. His heart remembered. Just having his little boy (his little boy, he had a boy!) back in his life again filled him with an ecstatic sensation that he hadn't felt in a long, long time.
"I missed you too, buddy." Jaune leaned forward, pulling, well, 'Jaune's' face close enough to kiss his cheek, leaving a wet smudge on his shirt.
"You're back! You're back!" It had been a good few years since Jaune could ever consider himself a child, so maybe he was merely remembering wrong, but did children always have this much energy? Little Junior, despite his size and being restrained by Jaune's hug, was vibrating like a rocket about to blast off into the air. "Are-are-are-are you moving back in?" The kid didn't take so much as a breath before jumping to the next topic, throwing his head back and mindlessly wiggling with enough ferocity that Jaune's body had no choice but to roll with it. "Because Mom turned your room into a box room and I don't think your stuff can fit any more." Jaune was a big guy and that was no exaggeration. He still retain his broad shoulders, his above average height and had enough muscle to hold down a beowolf. And this kid managed to burst free of Jaune's hold and leave the man winded like it was nothing, clearing several inched of air time within one jump. By the time Jaune managed to turn his body over to support himself with his knees, he caught sight of Junior bounding towards Pyrrha and making a clean leap into her arms. "Oooo, maybe you can crash in my room. Like we used to. It'll be so cool!"
"He's just visiting, Jaune." Pyrrha spoke up, her voice sounding calm and collected for once. And Jaune could feel her warmth towards Junior, a sense of comfort that she'd probably not extended towards him (or 'Larry') for, well, years. All the same, her insistence making the silent distain clear, making it sting even more. The worst part was that, as far as Jaune could gather from his little knowledge of his past, Pyrrha was probably very justified in inflicting that pain upon him.
"Yeah…" He winced, as if struck. He only knew his son for a minute, and the kid was already the greatest thing in the world, and he'd never get to keep that sensation no matter what he did. Because his old self screwed everything up. "Just visiting." Jaune forced a laugh. "Just visiting, but it'll be great seeing you guys again."
"Oh." The boy held tight onto Pyrrha's arms, as if he feared she would disappear. Why wouldn't he? They made it clear to him that this moment was fleeting, temporary. Jaune could hear Pyrrha softly coo comforting phrases into the boy's ear as he held onto her tighter, burring his face into her chest.
Jaune glanced towards Ruby, who had sequestered herself back to the steps of the front porch, looking back at Jaune with a conflicted gaze. It was the mother of all awkward situations for her, she probably just wanted to get everything over with, get out of here before anyone else got hurt. Sorry Ruby, he thought to himself, but I can't let this go. He couldn't cut this short, he couldn't just ask Pyrrha to send the little tyke away and get down to business. He couldn't leave with his son still bearing the disappointed look. He needed time, he needed an excuse. And little Jaune Jr needed a day with his dad. Jaune squatted down in front of Pyrrha, gazing up at his son with a wide and encouraging grin. "Which means you're gonna have to hurry and show me all the cool new things you've been up to."
"B-But there's so many!" Junior gushed out excitedly, immediately jumping down from his mother's embrace. The boy's enthusiasm only made Jaune's heart ache harder. How dare this kid be so damn happy? This was his son, shouldn't he be painfully awkward and depressing like his old man? How did Jaune ever manage to do anything but adore the boy?
Jaune took a hold of Junior's hand, gripping it in a soft fist and pulling it close to his chest, right over his heart. "Good thing you're an Arc then, ey Pal? We can take on anything!"
Junior nodded, his wide grin stretching even wider than it already was. He tugged Jaune's arm hard enough to almost make him fall over. Jaune grunted in surprise but stood tall, pulling his arm away in time to stop Junior from dragging him off. Instead, the boy grabbed onto his belt and started pulling him towards the front door. Jaune chuckled at the display. The kid had that Arc spirit alright. "Can I Mom? Can I?"
There was another stunned silence. It wasn't simple shock like before, there was an underlying pain to it. One left unsaid behind Pyrrha's stony expression. Eventually, she sighed. "…I suppose, just make sure he doesn't put anything in his pocket, okay?" Pyrrha was still on edge, still wary of Jaune. He knew that. She was still waiting for him to screw up, not that she wanted him to, just that she expected him to, had resigned herself to expect him to. And Jaune hated that almost as much as he loved the boy in his arms, it awoke a nauseating, unyielding pain every time he looked at her. But he knew that he'd never forgive himself if he left without spending some quality time with his son. He'd grin and bare it all for his son. His son. His precious, wonderful, adorable son.
However, glancing towards the designated third wheel, Jaune felt at a loss at what to say without feeling selfish. He knew leaving Ruby alone with Pyrrha while he went off the play, while they delayed what they came here to do, was not a recipe for good times. He needed her to know that he knew that, that he wouldn't ask if it wasn't important. "Ruby, I know we said-"
Instantly, the redhead waved away Jaune's concerns with a flick of her wrist. As if she knew what he was going to say before he even thought to say it. Her tone and demeanour were as casual as they came, but Jaune could tell that the girl was actually scared out of her mind. There was a lot going on in her head right now, a lot of emotions that Jaune didn't understand. Well, he understood them, but he had no idea how to help her with them. "I'll be fine." All the same, he knew he'd never be able to thank her enough. At the very least, he'd start with buying her mountains of her favourite ice cream on the way back. He practically pounced on her, pulling her into a tight and warm embrace, not caring if it looked too forward to his audience. "R-Really, you don't have to-" Any protest quickly died on her lips before she simply gave up and hugged him back, the intimate sensations that almost brought the ex-couple within kissing distance just an hour ago still lingered, fresh and lively between them.
They wouldn't do anything about it, but neither could deny to themselves what they were feeling.
Really, the true awkwardness came from Ruby getting a good eyeful of Pyrrha's deadpan stare at the display of affection. Immediately, Ruby had a sinking sensation. An image popped into her head of watching Pyrrha hug Jaune so tight and so suddenly in front of her, as if 'marking' her territory. How much it would make Ruby's heart ache, how much it might make Pyrrha's heart ache, and all too easily this simple gesture now made Ruby feel like a jerk.
Jaune pulled away, completely ignorant of the mental regret now plaguing Ruby. "You're amazing, Ruby."
Ruby could only force out laughter once more, smiling wider than she should as she clasped her hands together and tried to ignore that she was about to be alone with Pyrrha and their obvious tension for a good while now. "Don't I know it."