Blake closes her laptop and leans back against the desk chair, looking through the window of Yang's bedroom. The sun is setting outside, and its dying light is painting the horizon in shades of fiery red and orange. Birds are chirping from the tree line, insects buzzing around the flowers on the windowsill.
It's a nice, peaceful evening, and Blake's eyes shouldn't fill with tears, but she can't fight the sadness creeping up her throat like the slow, inexorable rise of the tide. She just finished skyping with her parents, which always leaves her drowning in conflicted feelings, happiness and shame and heartache mixing in her stomach like a dangerous cocktail. She blinks furiously, refusing to cry. She misses them. She misses them so much, and they miss her too, and even though they'd never say anything, she knows they think she left because of them. But the truth is…
No. Blake places her hands flat on the desk, and inhales, steadily. That's enough self-pitying. Whatever happened, happened.
There's a light knock on the door, and Yang pops her head in. "Hey," she says. "Dinner is ready. You done skyping?"
Blake nods and gets up, but her expression must betray her, because Yang cocks her head, looking at her with concern. "Everything alright with your parents?"
"Yes, everything's fine."
Yang is still looking at her, in that very particular way Yang often looks at her - like she knows something's wrong, but she won't push. Every time it happens, Blake's torn between her impulse to hide, and the growing urge to explain everything. She clenches her jaw, and the urge passes.
"It's… hard, sometimes, talking to them. I can tell they wish I were home."
"What about you? Do you wish you were home?"
Blake shrugs. "I feel pretty at home here." And it's not a lie, staying in Patch with Yang's family has been surprisingly pleasant. But it's not quite an answer either.
Blake can't feel bad about it, though, because the way Yang smiles at her in response, bright and unabashedly happy, tugs at her heart almost painfully.
It's Yang's turn to do the dishes, so Blake grabs a kitchen towel to help her out. They work in companionable silence, and Blake finally feels the last of her anxiety from the Skype call disappear, scrubbed clean just like the dirty dishes under Yang's energetic hand.
When they're done, she hangs the wet towel and touches Yang's shoulder, lightly. "Hey, you wanna take a walk?"
"Sure," Yang agrees, easily. She turns towards the living room. "Dad, Blake and I are going out for a little bit!"
"Don't stay out too late!" Tai replies, without even looking up from his book.
Blake follows Yang out of the door, to the dirt path that leads back to the main road. Patch is nothing like Menagerie - here, the houses are completely isolated, so far away from each other that most of the island turns pitch dark at night. On Menagerie, everything is cramped, houses and cabins built almost on top of each other, cafes and restaurants lining up the streets, crowded till the early morning. Menagerie never sleeps.
And Patch is so quiet, too. Where she's from, there's always a radio playing in the background, a baby crying, old men arguing over their game of dice. But as the two of them walk on the narrow road, alone, the only thing Blake hears is the sound of their footsteps on the soft ground, and the thumping of her heart when her bare arm brushes against Yang's.
Once they've put some distance between them and the house, Blake pulls out a pack of cigarettes from her pocket, and a lighter. "Want one?" she asks, and Yang hesitates, at first, before nodding. Blake puts two cigarettes between her lips, lights them up, and offers one to Yang.
They find a small grassy patch on the side of the road, and sit down on the ground. The air is thick with the sweet smell of flowers, lilac and honeysuckle and pink wisteria. In the darkness, the burning tips of the cigarettes glow bright orange.
"This is nice," Yang whispers, blowing out smoke as she speaks.
"Yeah," Blake says, distractedly. She can't take her eyes off Yang's lips, how soft they look when they close around the cigarette.
"Hey, you ever think about the first time we met?"
Blake raises an eyebrow, and taps the tip of her cigarette with one finger, watching the ash fall down. "You mean when you jumped out of our closet, surprised the shit out of me, and made me drop an entire case of books on the ground?"
Yang snorts. "Scaredy cat."
"I didn't know you were already in the room! They told me my roommate would arrive later in the day!"
"Yeah, yeah, I know. Still funny. Why were you so nervous, anyway? Was it moving to Vale? Were you a little intimidated by the big city?" Yang teases. Something cold and viscous slithers down Blake's spine, making her shiver.
"Yeah," she whispers, a second too late. It comes out unconvincing, even to her ears. Yang gives her a look, before lying down on the grass. Blake waits a beat, and does the same.
"You know, one day you'll have to tell me all those secrets of yours," Yang murmurs.
Blake inhales, and keeps the smoke inside her lungs till it burns. "What secrets?"
Yang puts out her cigarette, and rolls onto her side. Blake keeps her eyes on the night sky above them, on the familiar shape of the moon, round and pale and much, much safer to look at than Yang and the unrelenting gentleness of her attention.
"We've been friends for a year now. You can trust me," Yang says, earnestly. "Nothing you can say is gonna scare me off, Blake."
"You don't know that," Blake lets out, before she can stop herself.
Yang reaches out, and the tip of her fingers brush Blake's cheekbone, very lightly. Blake's heart goes wild, like a panicked bird trapped inside her chest, throwing itself violently against her ribs.
"Of course, I do," Yang says, softly. "I care about you, dumbass."
The intensity of the moment crumbles abruptly, shattered by the blunt word, and a weight lifts from Blake's chest. "Thanks, I think?" she says, like a question, but she takes Yang's fingers in her own, and squeezes them briefly.
"Would it help if I told you I have a secret too?"
Blake can't help an incredulous chuckle. She rolls on her side as well, facing her. "Yang, you told me your entire life story literally two days after we met," she says, deadpan.
Yang flips her off. "Not all of us can be edgy and mysterious."
Blake shakes her head, amused despite herself, her seriousness from earlier all but forgotten. "Alright, talk. What's your big secret?"
Yang leans her head closer. "I'm…" She pauses dramatically, and lowers her voice. "…gay."
"Oh, fuck off!" Blake groans, swatting at Yang's arm.
Yang falls back on the ground, laughing hard. Blake tries her best not to, because Yang shouldn't be encouraged, but her joy is contagious, and she ends up joining in the laughter. Once they've calmed down, Yang clears her throat. "For real though, there is something I kinda want to talk to you about. But you have to promise me not to tell anyone else."
"Sure," Blake agrees, half expecting another joke.
"I think I have an actual shot at finding Raven."
Now, that's a surprise. Blake sits up, frowning. "What? How?"
Yang sits up as well, crosslegged on the grass. "You know when I went to meet my uncle Qrow, in April? He got really drunk, like really drunk, and he let something slip. Apparently, Raven is planning on hanging out in Vale this summer."
"Fuck," Blake breathes out. She pulls another cigarette from her pack, and lights it.
"I know. Anyway, I have a … friend who's been on the look out for her, and he spotted her in a club two days ago. Qrow was right, she's in Vale. She's in Vale right now." Yang looks down, and she absently twists a blade of grass between her fingers. Blake resists the sudden, uncontrollable impulse to hug her. She knows how important finding her birth mother is to Yang, and this is the first concrete clue she's ever had about Raven's whereabouts. This must be so overwhelming for her.
"What about your parents?" Blake asks, gently. "Are you going to tell them?"
"No."
Yang's voice rings like steel against stone. She meets Blake's eyes. "I know they don't want me to see her, but this is my choice to make, not theirs."
Blake looks at Yang and the fire in her eyes, the hope and fear and determination, the underlying hint of fragility hidden behind her usual confident front, and it hits her, unexpectedly. She's the only person Yang trusts with this. Her heart brims with affection and pride.
"Okay. How can I help?"
Yang smiles. "I was hoping you'd say that."
The next morning, Tai and Summer leave early with Ruby for a day of shopping in a town nearby, which means Blake and Yang are left to their own devices. "You wanna go on a bike ride?" Yang asks, eyes glinting with excitement.
Blake's never ridden a motorcycle before, and the concept is slightly nerve-wracking, but she's not about to admit that to Yang. She'd never live it down. "Sure," she says, trying her best to sound relaxed. "Where to?"
"I'll take you to the best overlook of the island. It's not far, and it's totally worth it."
Twenty minutes later, Blake stands in the driveway, awkwardly holding a big purple helmet, and staring at Yang while she does a final check on the bike. Yang changed into a leather jacket with brown coat-tails, large combat boots, and aviator sunglasses, and it's honestly a little upsetting how well the whole biker aesthetic fits her. Blake puts the weird fluttering feeling in her stomach down to jealousy.
When she's done with her checks, Yang walks up to her with a smile. "You need help with that?" she asks, pointing to Blake's helmet.
"Yes, please."
Yang takes the helmet from her hands and carefully slips it down over Blake's head until it fits snuggly. She fastens the straps with expert fingers, while Blake stands very still, letting her work, and focuses hard on ignoring how close Yang's hands are to her throat. The strange fluttering grows stronger in her belly.
Yang pushes down the visor, and lightly raps her knuckles against the top of Blake's helmet-covered head. "Here you go. All set." She mounts the bike, puts on her own helmet, starts the engine - and then turns towards Blake expectantly.
Blake is frozen in place, unable to look away from her. She's thankful that her face is hidden, because her mouth is wide open and she's pretty sure she's blushing. "What?" Yang asks when she doesn't move.
"Uh, nothing… It's just… hm…" Blake stammers. She's just intimidated is all, she tells herself, firmly. Yang has always been pretty, but Yang all decked out in her biker gear, straddling her motorcycle, is something else entirely. She's stunning.
"Are you scared?" Yang says, teasingly, obviously mistaking Blake's behavior for nervousness.
Blake exhales, and goes along with the easiest explanation. "Yeah. A little."
"Just hold on to me and keep your feet on the footrests. You'll be fine."
Yang pats the space behind her. Blake settles on the bike and wraps her arms around Yang's waist, and suddenly they're moving, turning from the driveway onto the main road, picking up speed. It's a beautiful summer day, sunny and cloudless, but not too hot. Blake presses her cheek against the back of Yang's jacket, and looks on as the trees and fields of sunflowers go by before her eyes in a blur of green and gold. Yang's stomach is firm underneath her hands, and she smells like leather and motor oil and coffee, and if Blake's heart is making summersaults inside her chest, she blames it on the speed.
Yang takes them all the way to the southernmost side of the island, up a rocky hill. She parks the bike on the side of the road. "You can let go now," she says, when Blake doesn't loosen her grip at first. Blake reluctantly takes her arms off Yang's waist.
They both remove their helmets and climb to the very top of the hill. From up there, the view is magnificent, the ocean glimmering under the sunshine, calm until it hits the continental coastline, waves crashing against the white limestone cliffs in the distance. Blake stares, in awe. Yang points her finger to the South. "Vale is over there. You can kinda see it if you squint."
"It's amazing," Blake breathes out, still taking it in.
"Told ya."
Yang guides her to an old wooden bench, covered in moss and graffitis - it's obviously a popular spot - and they sit and admire the scenery for a bit.
"We should talk about Raven," Blake says eventually, breaking the silence.
Yang takes a deep breath, and nods for her to go on. She seems unusually reserved, so Blake turns halfway to get a look at her, eyebrows raised in concern. "What's your plan?"
"Well, I guess the next step is to go meet the guy who gave me the info, see what he has to say. He works in a club downtown."
"So we need to go to Vale." Blake states, still looking at her carefully. "Let's ask your parents if we can spend the day in Vale tomorrow."
"Sounds good."
Yang's voice wobbles a little. Blake squeezes her knee. "Hey," she says. "You know you don't have to do this if you don't want to, right?"
"I know. I just…" Yang pauses, and places her hand on top of Blake's, interlacing their fingers. "I don't want to set myself up for disappointment. After all, I'm looking for someone who doesn't want to be found."
Blake's stomach constricts, tightening on itself, stretched like a rubber band about to snap. She swallows hard. "We'll try our best," she says, and if her voice is a little shaky, Yang doesn't mention it.
They stay here for a while, watching the ocean together, but Blake finds herself unable to appreciate the view, Yang's words echoing in her head. Someone who doesn't want to be found.
That evening, after dinner, while Yang and Ruby are playing video games in the living room, Blake sneaks outside. She lies on the hammock in the backyard, one leg dangling from the side, and calls Ilia.
"Blake?" Ilia answers sluggishly, her voice husky through the phone. "Is something wrong?"
"No, no, I'm fine. Am I waking you up?"
"Obviously. It's the middle of the night here!"
"Sorry," Blake says. Silence stretches awkwardly between them for a minute or so.
Ilia sighs, and Blake hears some movement, the ruffling of sheets, the creaking of wood, before she speaks again, more clearly this time. "What's up?"
"Are there any news?"
"Of…?" Ilia asks, but the slight edge in her voice tells Blake she already knows.
"Adam."
Ilia swallows audibly. Blake pushes her foot against the ground - the hammock starts swinging back and forth, and she lets the gentle movement soothe her trepidation. "No, nothing since I called you last week. Nobody's seen him."
"Fuck." Blake stares at the dark tree branches above her. "Fuck," she repeats, lower. She absently rubs her finger along the scar on her leg.
"Look, we don't know what it means yet," Ilia reasons, obviously trying to be reassuring. It doesn't work. "Maybe he's just laying low for a while. He just got out of prison, and he may be an asshole, but he's not stupid. I'm sure he doesn't want to attract unnecessary attention right now."
"The only thing he wants is me," Blake whispers, between clenched teeth.
"Just because he asked about you…"
"Ilia," Blake interrupts, and she means to sound irritated, but it comes out desperate. "Please."
Ilia's breath falters. Blake waits. The foliage trembles in the evening breeze, the dark leaves shining silver under the moonlight. An owl hoots in the distance, disturbing the quiet. Blake focuses on her surroundings, on everything she sees and hears and smells, keeping herself grounded. She can't afford to panic.
"You're right," Ilia says, caving in. "I'm sorry. I guess there's no point in being in denial."
"Adam wants me. He told me he'd get revenge for what happened, and you and I both know how obsessive he is. He's coming for me, Ilia."
"What are you going to do?"
Blake exhales, slow and steady. "Nothing. There's nothing to do but wait. Very few people know I'm in Patch, so there's a good chance he won't find me here. Even if he makes it to Vale, my trail ends at Beacon University. I should be safe until school starts again in September, and then… Well, then I'll figure it out."
"Have you told Yang yet?" Ilia asks.
"No. I just… It's easier that way. Nobody else needs to get involved. I felt bad enough telling you."
"Don't. You met Adam because of me. It's only fair that I help you out however I can."
Blake frowns. "Ilia, we're not having this conversation again. It wasn't your fault."
There's a stubborn silence, only broken when Ilia lets out a long, involuntary yawn. Blake shakes her head, fondly exasperated. "I'll let you go back to sleep."
"Are you sure?" Ilia protests, her tone betraying her concern. "I don't mind staying on the phone if you need to talk."
Raucous laughter resounds from the living room, and suddenly Blake is overcome with the desire to be with Yang and her family, surrounded by light and joy and easy affection, far, far away from her mistakes. "I'm sure. Thanks, Ilia. Love you."
"Love you too. I'll call you if I hear anything. And Blake…"
"Yeah?"
"Try to enjoy your summer, okay? You deserve it."
Blake hums noncommittally, and ends the call. Ilia is a good friend, and she loves her for thinking so, but that isn't the slightest bit true. She's not sure what she deserves - she just knows a fun summer vacation ain't it.
She'll still cherish every second of happiness before it inevitably falls apart.
Yang catches the car keys in the air. "Thanks dad!" she says, with a smile a little too wide to be sincere. "We'll be back for dinner!" Her voice is noticeably higher than usual.
Blake grimaces, but Tai doesn't seem to notice. "Drive safely. Call if you need anything," he replies, cheerful, as he pours himself a cup of coffee.
"We will," Blake promises, pushing Yang out of the door. "Bye everyone!" Ruby waves at them from her seat at the kitchen table, sleepily eating her cereal.
As soon as they're alone in the car, Yang sighs. "Ugh, I hate lying to them."
"Come on, it's for a good cause." In all fairness, Blake does feel a little bad. It was too easy to convince Tai and Summer that they were going to spend the day in Vale with some friends from school. Neither of them questioned any of it. And now, here they are, Yang driving carefully across the bridge that connects Patch to the mainland, on their way to Vale.
Yang is tense during the whole trip, fingers tight around the steering wheel, and they don't talk much until they reach Vale's nightlife neighborhood - one of the less savory areas of town. She parks the car in front of a run down industrial building with a plaque that just reads "Junior's".
"We're here."
"That's where your friend works?" Blake asks, peering through the window at the seedy establishment.
Yang looks sheepish. "He owns the place, actually. And I wouldn't exactly call him a friend."
Blake shakes her head as they get out of the car. "How come this guy's helping you, then? Doesn't look like the kind of place that promotes altruism."
"I found out through Qrow that he sells bootleg liquor. I promised not to say anything if he did me a favor."
"So you're blackmailing him," Blake says, deadpan.
"Yep."
Yang gives her an unapologetic shrug as she pushes the door open, and they walk inside the club. It's still early in the day, which means the only people here are employees milling around, wiping tables and setting up the place for the night. A man in his late thirties sits at the bar, a glass of bourbon on the counter, working on his laptop.
Yang takes a deep breath, and strides decisively towards him. Blake follows, silently cataloguing the number of people present, and the location of the nearest exit. Old habits die hard.
"Hey Junior! It's a little early for a drink, don't ya think?" Yang's voice rings loud and clear, and the man swivels his stool around to face her. He grins, showing his teeth. Blake immediately hates him.
"Hey, Blondie, I was wondering when you'd show up." He takes off his shaded glasses - ridiculous -, and swirls the alcohol in his glass. His gaze lingers on Yang's chest.
"Her eyes are up here," Blake snaps, tone icy. Junior frowns, clearly annoyed, and Yang shoots her a surprised glance, before turning her attention back to him.
"So you saw her."
"Yeah. She actually wanted to speak with me, about some business stuff. I told her I wasn't interested. She a relative of yours?"
Yang ignores the question. "I want proof. Show me the security footage."
"Fine. Sit down," he says, gesturing towards the metallic stool near him.
They walk up to the bar, but neither of them sits. Junior rolls his eyes and opens an application on his laptop. Then he selects a file, and a video starts playing. Yang's body tenses, her back muscles stiffening visibly under her light tank top, as Junior fast-forwards till he finds the relevant part.
A woman, dark-haired and tall, face obscured by the dim light, enters the club. She looks around and seems to spot something behind the bar. "Can you zoom in?" Yang requests, eyes stuck on the screen. The woman straightens up and moves forward, and out of shot.
"This isn't a damn Hollywood movie, Blondie. That's all I can do."
"Fuck." Yang runs a hand through her hair, frustrated. "You said she had business with you, right? Can you arrange a meeting with her? Tell her you changed your mind?"
Junior raises an eyebrow, hesitant. "I mean, maybe. But I'd rather not. I don't wanna get mixed up in whatever shit she's up to. And that's coming from me!"
Yang leans into his personal space, quietly menacing. "Do it," Yang orders, voice low. She looks dangerous, and a shiver runs down Blake's spine - but it has nothing to do with fear.
Junior nods, gulping. Yang softens. "Good. Call me when it's done. And I'll forget everything I know about how you run your club."
She grabs Blake's hand and leads her towards the exit. "Hey! What about that drink you promised me?" Junior calls out behind them. Yang doesn't even bother responding.
They retreat into a small cafe in downtown Vale, and order some lunch. Yang fiddles with the menu for a while, pretending to read even though her mind is obviously elsewhere, and Blake gives her some space, sipping her iced tea and absentmindedly texting Sun.
"Sorry I got kinda intense in there. I hope I didn't freak you out," Yang says after the waitress brings them their food, intently staring at her bagel.
"Don't apologize," Blake says. "I liked seeing this side of you."
She blushes as soon as the words leave her mouth, and now she's the one staring at her food, embarrassed at the admission, and not entirely sure why. When she musters the courage to look up again, Yang's mouth is quirked into a smile, and the tip of her ears have turned pink, and she looks so lovely like that, smug and bashful all at once - a startling wave of tenderness rises inside of Blake and floods her chest, leaving her speechless.
Blake leaves the bathroom and pads back to Yang's bedroom in her night dress, yawning as she opens the door. It's been a long day, and her neck aches from the drive back to Patch. She couldn't wait for dinner to be over - she's ready to sleep.
She finds Yang sitting on her bed with her arms around her legs, chin resting on her knees, gazing through the window. She looks small, all curled up on herself like that, and it makes something twinge in the back of Blake's throat.
"Are you okay?"
Yang shrugs, without looking at her. Blake leans against the closed door. "What's up?"
"It's just a lot. I kinda… gave up on finding my mom, after all this time. And now it seems like this thing I've wanted for all my life is actually going to happen, and I'm… scared." Yang shakes her head in disbelief. "I thought I'd be braver, you know."
Blake remembers the first time Yang told her about Raven. It was in November, on a rainy afternoon spent studying in their dorm room. They were both taking a break from work, and Yang had boiled water and brewed them some peppermint tea. Blake doesn't know how they went from complaining about their sociology papers to Yang talking about her birth mother, but she remembers sitting on her bed and listening to Yang's story. She remembers the warm cup of tea in her hand, the crisp aroma of mint, the deafening splattering of rain against the window, and the look on Yang's face, so vulnerable and resolute.
Blake joins Yang on her bed, and gathers her in her arms. Yang doesn't move at first, clearly not expecting the gesture, until her arms slide around Blake's waist, and she hugs her back.
"Yang, you're the bravest person I know," Blake says, in her ear. "And it's okay to be scared. Just remember that whatever happens, I'm on your side."
Yang's arms tighten around her. Blake lets her hold on for as long as she needs. When they separate, Yang is smiling, a little self-conscious, sure, but genuinely happy. "Thanks."
"Anytime."
"I'm so glad you're here. I don't know how I would deal with any of this without you."
That night, Blake falls asleep realizing that whatever reason lead her to Patch this summer, it gave her the chance to be there for Yang when she needed her, and the thought is both surprising and heartwarming. Sometimes, she understands in a spark of clarity, just before she dozes off, a good thing can come out of even the most unfortunate circumstances.
