There is no warning before heartbreak.
Yang is still lounging in bed, lazily checking her phone, smiling, when Blake comes back with two mugs and a clenched jaw.
She sets Yang's coffee on her bedside table, and goes to sit on her own bed, without saying a word. Yang blinks, surprised, and puts her phone down. She expected Blake to sit back down on the bed beside her, close enough to touch, close enough to hold hands, close enough to kiss. Kissing Blake again has been the only thing on Yang's mind since she opened her eyes this morning, and surely Blake feels the same way.
But Blake's face is unreadable. She seems radically different from the Blake who woke up in Yang's arms barely half an hour ago, and Yang sits up straighter, unease falling down on her shoulders like fog on the ocean - ominous and distressful.
"Thanks," Yang says, grabbing her cup of coffee. Blake nods, but she doesn't look up from her own drink. Yang stares at her, biting the inside of her cheek. Blake's shoulders are too stiff, the line of her mouth too thin, her posture tense and guarded - something is wrong, and Blake doesn't want to talk about it.
"You okay?" Yang asks anyway, tentatively.
Blake takes a sip of her tea, still avoiding Yang's eyes. Her hand shakes when she brings the cup to her lips, but her voice is steady. "Yeah. I just… I've been thinking. Yang, last night was a mistake."
Yang's heart grows heavy, like flesh slowly turning to stone in her chest. "What do you mean?"
Blake's fingers trace the rugged scar on her leg. "We'd been drinking. It's the summer break, and we spend all our time together - it was bound to happen. But you're one of my best friends, and I don't want to ruin our friendship over some stupid summer fling. I think it's best if we forget it ever happened, and maybe just take a little break from each other."
"You kissed me," Yang protests, lamely. "You dared me to go skinny dipping, and then you kissed me."
Blake still isn't looking at her, eyes downcast, partially hidden behind her bangs, and Yang leans forward, desperately trying to catch her gaze. "I'm sorry, I wasn't…" Blake pauses.
"… thinking straight?" Yang finishes for her, a half-hearted attempt at humor. Blake doesn't smile. Yang's petrified heart sinks down to her stomach.
"I'm serious. Just trust me, it's better if we let it go." Blake's fingers rub along her scar again, and Yang is hit with a wave of frustration. Because Blake's lying - Blake's hiding something, like she always does, and it hurts that after everything, she still won't let Yang in.
"I want to trust you, but I feel like you're not telling me the truth, and honestly I'm a little tired of all the secrets. You woke up literally on top of me, and now you don't want to ruin our friendship. I'm getting whiplash. What's going on?"
Blake's bottom lip wobbles, like she's about to cry. Yang immediately softens. "Blake, please talk to me. Tell me what's wrong. I don't care about kissing you - I just want you to be okay."
Blake takes a shuddering breath, as if gathering the strength to talk, and Yang's lungs fill with hope. And then Blake looks up, and her face could very well be marble - beautiful, but so very cold. Her eyes find Yang's for the first time since she came back from the kitchen, and Yang recoils, her heart shattering, ground into dust.
There's no emotion in Blake's eyes - none of the tenderness that Yang's grown used to see directed at her these past few weeks, no affection, no laughter, no desire. Her gaze is blank, like the door opening into Blake's soul just got shut in Yang's face, and she barely recognizes the girl in front of her. Her stomach tightens uneasily.
Blake stands up, picks up some clothes from the floor. "I'm gonna go shower, give you some space. It's better that way, I promise."
She leaves without looking back, and it feels like a kick to the gut - Yang falls back onto her bed, blond hair fanning over her pillow. The sun shines through her window, joyful and bright, and she wishes it wouldn't. She wishes for a storm - something dark and loud and filled with the same violent desperation bubbling in her throat.
"What the fuck," she says, softly, to the ceiling.
When Yang finally makes her way downstairs, Blake is curled up on the couch in the living room, reading a book. She doesn't move when Yang walks past her, and Yang stares straight ahead, afraid that if she looks at Blake she'll end up crying, or something equally pathetic.
Summer is sitting on the big leather armchair, on the other side of the living room, sipping her coffee. She perks up when she sees Yang crossing the room. "Morning, sleepyhead. You haven't slept that late since you had that horrible cold two years ago. Everything okay?"
Yang swallows. She knows Blake is in the same room, listening, and a small part of her, one she's not proud of, wants to put her on the spot. She could tell Summer what happened, whine, maybe even cry, make Blake feel all guilty and awkward but…. But it's Blake, and for all the maelstrom of emotions she's feeling right now, Yang would never purposefully hurt her. She may not understand what changed, but something did - and she'll just have to live with it.
So she tries a smile. "What can I say, sometimes a girl just wanna stay in bed."
Summer looks at her, eyebrow quirked, not entirely convinced. "Well, now that you've deigned to join us, how do you girls feel about a beach day? Your dad and Ruby are getting the car ready, we leave in thirty minutes."
"Sure," Yang says, with a shrug. She doesn't really care, but she might as well get out of the house. She turns around without thinking, reflexively checking with Blake.
Blake looks - something. Yang can't read her expression. She's chewing on her bottom lip, eyes darting between the front door and the window like she's looking for a way out, like the offer of going to the beach warrants an exit strategy.
Maybe it's the perspective of going anywhere with Yang. Suddenly self-conscious, Yang stuffs her hands in the pockets of her shorts.
Eventually, Blake clears her throat. "If everyone is going, I'll go too," she says, looking at Summer rather than Yang. She sounds about as happy as Yang feels. This is gonna be a great day.
The car ride is kind of terrible, but at least Tai puts on some music, so Yang can try and focus on something other than the feeling of Blake's bare thigh brushing against hers. It doesn't really work. Blake's shoulder still bumps against her own whenever the car takes a sharp right turn, and Yang's stomach churns every time they touch.
During the entire trip to the beach, Blake stays quiet, looking out of the car window, facing away from Yang. Ruby's chattering with Tai and Summer, and Yang doesn't know what to fucking do with herself. Her ribs are sore, her head pounding, as if she got trampled by a beast, as if she got flung against the cliff's rocks by a furious sea. Is it a break up if you were never really together in the first place? Does it count as heartbreak if you barely even knew you were in love?
Because she is. Yang's in love - and it really, really hurts.
When they arrive, Blake spreads out her towel on the sand and sits with her knees drawn to her chest, fully dressed, book opened on her lap, clearly not intent on going near the water. She's wearing her big straw hat and her sunglasses, and Yang can't even see her face. She looks - small - like she's trying to make herself invisible, like she's hiding.
Blake looks like she's hiding. Yang's whole body aches, a slow burning pain that starts at the base of her throat and trickles down to her stomach, down to her knees, leaving embers in its wake - because what could Blake be hiding from, except her.
So yeah, it hurts. It hurts like a missed opportunity, the sharp, bitter sting of the word almost.
First, Raven. Now, Blake. The weight of another failure, another almost taunting her, is too much, and Yang flees, running towards the waves until she can dive head first into the ocean.
The ocean, that traitor, doesn't help. Swimming reminds her of the last time she was in the water - Blake and her naked under the faint moonlight, the thrill of it, the sheer intimacy of the situation. Blake was avoiding looking at her too, that night, but for entirely different reasons.
Frustrated, sick to her stomach, Yang swims back to the shore and flops down on her towel, one arm covering her eyes, hiding from the sun and everything else. Maybe blocking the sun will make this day go by faster. She's done with it all - the beach, the sun, the crushing pain inside her chest. This entire summer really can go to hell.
On her right, Ruby is humming a song, earphones in, as she distractedly skims through Patch Magazine. On her left, Summer and Tai are having a quiet conversation, peppered with laughter. Blake hasn't moved. She hasn't made a sound either, and somehow she's the loudest of them all. Yang, eyes closed underneath her arm, can't help but focus on Blake's silence, waiting, hoping, for Blake to say something. They stay at the beach until late afternoon, and Blake never does.
That night, Blake goes upstairs immediately after dinner. When Yang's done helping Ruby do the dishes, she follows her, thinking maybe after such an awkward, terrible, miserable day, Blake will reconsider her position. Maybe she'll at least be ready to talk. But when she opens the door, Blake is lying down on her own bed, reading her damn book, under the yellow light of her small bedside lamp.
Yang closes the door. Blake looks up, and smiles.
"Good night, Yang," she says, softly. Yang's heart breaks all over again, because she recognizes a rejection when she hears one, no matter how gentle.
Yang falls asleep alone in her bed for the first time in a while, cheek pressed against a wet pillow.
She gets in the habit of waking up at dawn and leaving quietly while Blake is still asleep. It's partly to dodge the potential for awkwardness, partly a little petty, because if Blake can avoid her, so can she.
Every day, she goes on a morning run, sometimes on her own, sometimes with Ruby if she's awake early enough. It's a nice routine, and it helps clear her head somewhat. Yang's heart feels bruised, tender, raw like an open wound, but it will pass, she tells herself firmly. After her run, she hops in the shower, and has breakfast in the kitchen with Tai and Summer. That's usually when Blake shows up, bleary-eyed, always holding a book in her hand.
They manage some small talk, the two of them. Yang makes silly jokes. Blake comments on the food, the weather, the movie they watched with Ruby the night before. Their interactions are civil, casual, lighthearted. It's fucking torture.
Yang remembers what it felt like to hold Blake in her arms, the taste of her mouth, the warmth of her bare skin, the flutter of her pulse against Yang's tongue - and she misses it, so very much, craves the miraculous intimacy of Blake's body pressed close to her own. But she also misses another kind of closeness - Blake comforting her after she broke down, their conversations late at night, the sincerity of their playful banter, the way Blake used to look at her, from the corner of her eyes, with a deep-seated fondness that made Yang feel lightheaded.
There's a hole in her chest, a space that Blake used to fill, and being around her when they're so distant only makes it worse.
So instead she spends time with Ruby and Summer and her dad, working on her bike or gardening. She texts Weiss a lot more, and makes plans to skype later in the week.
One morning, four days after the whole debacle, Ruby asks her if something happened. They're taking a break from their run on the beach, and Yang is gazing at the ocean while she stretches her calves, mind blissfully blank. The question takes her by surprise.
"What do you mean?" she says, turning to face her sister. Ruby looks at her with serious eyes.
"With Blake. Did something happen?"
Yang has the impulse to deny it, but she's never lied to Ruby before, and she won't start now.
"I don't know what happened," she lets out. She sits down on the sand, legs stretched out before her. Ruby sits as well, and takes a sip of her water, waiting for Yang to talk. "We kissed, the other night, after the skinny dipping thing. We kissed, and I thought… Well, I thought we could be something. But the next morning, she changed her mind, said it was a mistake. It's been a little weird ever since, as you can imagine."
She bites her lip. "Guess she just doesn't care about me the way I do, ya know."
Ruby smacks her arm - not actually hard, but it still stings. "Don't be an idiot," she says. "It's obvious to anyone with eyes that she has a huge crush on you."
"Funny way of showing it."
"Yang," Ruby says, sounding like she's a little frustrated and, more surprisingly, sad. She pauses. "You know what I think? You're afraid. She's the first girl you actually have feelings for, real, romantic, scary feelings, and she's running away from something- and you're just gonna pretend she's running away from you, cause that's way easier to deal with."
"I'm not gonna chase after her, Ruby," Yang snaps, without heat. "This isn't a bad romantic comedy - she asked me to let it go, so I'm letting it go."
"Yeah, I know, I'm not telling you to be an asshole. I'm telling you to figure out what the hell is going on with her, instead of pining from afar like you're some sort of martyr. Get your closure, one way or another."
There's a pause, as Yang absorbs Ruby's words - shockingly insightful, for a sixteen-year-old. Then again, Ruby's always been too smart for her own good.
Yang takes a deep breath, exhales. The sand is soft underneath her hands, the sun warm on her face. Ruby leans against her, bumping their shoulders together, and Yang slings an arm around her sister, dropping a grateful kiss on the top of her head.
After the talk with Ruby, she starts paying closer attention to Blake, and it doesn't take her long to notice what's changed. For one, Blake sleeps with her light on. She acts like she forgot to turn it off when Yang catches her in the morning, but it happens every night, too regularly to be anything but planned.
She barely eats, is the second clue. Blake's never been a huge eater, but she has an appetite, and a sweet tooth. Instead, every meal, Yang watches her toy with her food and politely decline when she's offered a second serving. She's not even sure Blake eats breakfast anymore.
And then there's a string of little things, details and oddities, that, put together, form an alarming picture. Blake never goes out without her sunglasses and hat anymore, and she dresses in loose clothes instead of the short shorts and crop tops she used to favor. She locks the window of Yang's bedroom at night, something she's never done before. She eyes the mailbox like it might explode. She rarely leaves the house, and when she does, she's never alone. One day, they go to the grocery store with Tai, and Blake is on edge the whole time - hovering near the exit, jumping when a man approaches her in the dairy aisle, taking hurried steps backwards away from him. It's a far cry from the way Blake acted at Junior's club, not hesitating to speak her mind when inconvenienced.
She also cringes every time the house phone rings - and, Yang notices with trepidation, it rings quite frequently, often stopping before they have time to answer.
"Huh, must be a wrong number," her dad says, one day, when he picks up the phone but the person's hung up already. Yang looks at Blake from across the dinner table - she's pale as a sheet, her hand trembling so hard that she has to put her fork down.
Yang observes her, day after day, and her heart breaks for the third time in a week, because here is what she realizes: Blake is afraid. No, Blake is terrified.
And that begs the question. Who is she so afraid of?
"Do I need to kick her ass?"
Yang snorts. "Thanks, Weiss, but I'm good."
Weiss frowns. She's skyping from a depressing-looking office at the Schnee Company headquarters - the wall behind her is painted a dull white, empty but for one generic photo of Atlas University. There's a window on the right, and despite the low quality of the video, Yang can make out snow, in stark contrast to her stuffy hot bedroom in Patch, where she sits crosslegged on the floor, dressed in a loose orange shirt and ripped jean shorts, barefoot, hair pulled up in a messy ponytail.
"Are you really good?" Weiss asks, making quotation marks with her fingers. Her tone is sharp, but there's genuine worry in her eyes. "Ruby says you've been moping over Blake for a week now."
Yang rolls her eyes. "Gee, thanks Ruby." She props her elbows on her bent knees, leaning toward the screen of her laptop. "For your information, I'm not moping, I'm concerned. I think there's something going on with her."
Weiss nods, accepting her explanation. It's one thing Yang appreciates about Weiss - despite all her prickliness and sass, she always takes Yang seriously.
"You really care about her."
Yang exhales, slowly. "I'm in love with her, Weiss."
"Please, there's no need to go all sappy on me."
"It's true, I am," Yang laughs, amused by the way Weiss's face scrunches up in distaste. "I'm kinda shocked you didn't call me out on it sooner."
"Well, how would I know? We've barely talked all summer." There's a faint hint of hurt hidden deep in Weiss's voice - but they've been friends for a long time, and Yang has always been able to read her fairly well. Her chest tightens with guilt.
"Fuck, Weiss, I'm sorry. I know I haven't been super available lately," she starts, but Weiss cuts her off, waving her hands dismissively.
"No, no, it's fine. You were busy with your tragic summer love story, I understand."
"It's not because of Blake," Yang corrects her. Weiss stops talking, eyebrows raised in surprise. "It's because…" Yang takes a deep breath. "It's because I found Raven."
"You what?"
Yang tells her the whole story - Qrow letting some information slip up last Spring, blackmailing Junior, Blake helping, meeting Raven at the bar, the cops.
"What a bitch," Weiss spits out, frowning.
"Yeah," Yang says, defeatedly, before changing the subject. "Speaking of terrible parents. How is everything with your dad?"
Weiss makes a grimace. "Not great. I'm just trying to finish the internship without a bloodbath at this point. Thankfully, Winter is handling most of the interactions."
"Weiss… Just drop the internship and come here. You don't have to put up with this."
"My resume says otherwise."
"Come on!" Yang laughs, not unkindly. "You're Weiss Schnee! Top of your class since, like, kindergarten! Graduated summa cum laude from Signal! Admitted to the very exclusive business school of Atlas University as a freshman! President of countless charity organizations and world famous opera singer!"
"Well, don't stop now," Weiss says, drily, when Yang pauses. "This was just getting good."
"You don't need this internship, you'll have people fighting over you as soon as you graduate. Just buy a plane ticket and come spend the rest of your summer far away from your crazy family. You know Dad and Summer are always happy to have you."
Weiss sighs. She twirls the end of her perfect ponytail between her fingers, a sure sign of hesitation. "You sound like Ruby."
"Well, that's because we're right. Come to Patch. We miss you."
"I'll think about it," Weiss says, noncommittally, but there's a small smile pulling at the corner of her mouth.
One late afternoon, as Ruby, Blake and Yang are sprawled outside on the lawn playing a slightly boring game of Monopoly, a motorbike makes a sharp turn into the driveway and stops with a loud creak of gravel. The rider steps down, dressed in black pants and a leather jacket, face hidden under a red helmet. Yang notices Blake looking up with wild eyes, hands balled into fists as she stands up, like she's expecting a fight.
But before anyone else can say anything, Ruby jumps to her feet, squealing with delight.
"Uncle Qrow!"
Qrow takes off his helmet, resting it on top of the bike, and grins as he catches Ruby in his arms. Yang glances at Blake, who seems to have regain her composure, and makes her way to him.
"Hey, firecracker," he says, ruffling her hair when she gives him a side hug.
"Hey, Qrow. What brings you here?"
"Oh, I was in the neighborhood, figured I'd stop by. I'm sure you kids are bored out of your minds without me around!"
"Qrow? Is that you?" Tai steps out of the front door, wearing an apron, spatula in his right hand. "I thought I heard your irritating voice."
"Hey, now, don't be rude in front of my nieces. What kind of an example is that?" Qrow smirks as Ruby snickers. Tai rolls his eyes, but he can't hide his smile.
"Oh, cause you're a real role model, aren't you?" Summer says, leaning against the doorframe beside Tai. "Are you staying for dinner?"
"Only if you're cooking," Qrow says with a wink. Tai waves the spatula at him in the air, faking annoyance. "And I'm the rude one."
They have a nice, lively dinner. Qrow is full of entertaining stories, though Yang privately doubts they're all true, and it's always fun to watch Summer tease him relentlessly. Blake stays mostly quiet, perhaps feeling a bit out of place in the middle of a family reunion. She excuses herself and retires to Yang's room as soon as the dinner is over.
The rest of them settle around the outdoor table on the patio with some chamomile tea. The night brings a cool breeze, the crickets are chirping. The conversation lulls a little, and Yang can't quite stop herself from missing Blake. Even with how stilted things are between them, she feels lonelier without her. Eventually, Ruby yawns and declares she's going to bed, giving all of them a kiss on the cheek.
As soon as she's gone, Qrow clears his throat, and glances at Yang. "I got a call from Raven the other day, asking about you."
Tai chokes on his tea. "What?" he splutters, putting down his cup a little too brutally. Tea sloshes around, spilling on the wooden outdoor table. Qrow doesn't look away from Yang, and she finds herself fidgeting under her uncle's knowing eyes.
"She told me you managed to find her. Almost an ambush," Qrow continues. A little smile creeps at the corner of his lips. "She was quite impressed with you actually - and so am I."
"Qrow," Tai growls. "This ain't funny. What are you talking about?" When Qrow stays silent, Tai turns to Yang and cocks his head, clearly expecting an answer.
Yang sighs. Anxiety creeps up her throat, but it's promptly drowned out by a wave of relief. She's been waiting for the right time to tell them about Raven, and maybe this is it. She crosses her arms, and wishes she had one of Blake's cigarettes. "Uncle Qrow got drunk and told me that Raven would be staying in Vale. I just… made good use of the information. That's why I went to that club - to meet her."
"Oh, Yang," Summer says, shaking her head.
"You and I are gonna have a talk about this later," Tai mutters at Qrow, before he looks at Yang again. She braces herself for a scolding, a lecture, his disapproval. But instead, his face grows sad, concern etched in the lines around his mouth.
"You should have come to us about this."
Yang huffs. "How would I even do that? You've always made it clear that you didn't want me to meet her." Her voice breaks suddenly, as emotion clogs her throat. "I know she left, but she's my birth mother. I don't understand why you guys won't let me at least talk to her."
"Yang, I…" Tai pauses, swallows thickly. "Your mother is a complicated person, and she has her flaws. We're just trying to protect you…"
"She's a criminal," Summer says, flatly.
Yang's eyes widen. She's not an idiot - she's aware Raven is involved in some shady business. But it's the first time they're so straightforward about it.
"Your parents are right," Qrow adds, his gravelly voice more serious than it's been this entire evening. "My sister is dangerous, Yang. You're too young to get wrapped up in her kind of trouble."
Even though it's not exactly what she wants to hear, their honesty appeases her. It feels good to be trusted with the truth. "Okay," Yang says with a sigh, lowering her eyes, uncertain, resigned.
There's a hand on her cheek, and she raises her head to find her father looking at her. "I'm sorry," Tai says. Yang blinks, confused. His calloused palm feels warm against her skin. "I've tried to handle this the best I could. It's not easy for me, talking about Raven, and maybe I'm too biased to have a neutral perspective on her. But you're an adult now, and you deserve to have a say in this."
Gratitude and love surge in her chest, and she leans into her father's touch, wordless.
"If you're really sure about it, maybe… maybe we could arrange another meeting," Tai says, tentatively. "Over the phone," he adds hurriedly when Yang opens her mouth. "And supervised."
She mulls this over. "Okay," she says again, this time in a much happier tone.
Tai pats her cheek, gently, once, before leaning back into his chair and grabbing his cup of tea. The conversation moves on to lighter topics, until Qrow grumbles that it's getting late and he should go. They all stand up to say goodbye, and then Tai walks Qrow back to his bike, and Yang is left alone with Summer.
"You can always come to us with anything,Yang," Summer says, quietly. "No matter what, we'll find a solution together. Bottling things up never works, trust me." Yang nods, but her mind immediately runs toward Blake.
She's so distracted, she gasps when Summer pulls her into a tight hug.
"You know I love you, right?" Summer whispers into Yang's hair, voice filled with affection and concern.
And in that moment, surrounded by the love of a woman she's known her entire life, safe in her arms, feeling content and relieved and more at peace than she's been in a very long time, the words come easily to Yang.
"I love you too, mom."
The next morning, instead of going out for her usual run, Yang grabs one mug of coffee and one mug of tea from the kitchen, walks back up to her bedroom, and waits for Blake to wake up.
Eventually, Blake stirs, and opens her eyes. "Yang?" she mutters, voice raspy with sleep, as she sits up slowly. She's barely awake, hair messy and sticking to her forehead, blinking at Yang with genuine confusion, and God, she's so cute and Yang is so in love.
Yang allows her heart a few seconds to simply look at Blake, a small indulgence before she forces herself to focus on the conversation ahead. She scoots down to the edge of her bed closest to Blake's camp bed.
"I want to talk," Yang says, as firmly and gently as she can, and hands Blake a cup of still steaming tea.
Blake takes the mug from Yang but frowns, and pushes unruly curls of dark hair away from her face before she answers. "If this is about us, I already said what I had to say. Don't make this more difficult than it should…"
"You said you want us to be friends," Yang interrupts her - still gentle, still firm. "Friends talk."
Blake opens her mouth, like she wants to protest the reasoning, and all Yang does is raise a - slightly critical - eyebrow. Blake closes her mouth.
"Last week, I told you I didn't care about kissing you," Yang says, and oh, alright, here's the hard part. She braces herself, and swallows her pride. "The truth is, I do. I care. When we kissed, it felt inevitable in the best way. It felt like I'd found something I wasn't even aware I was missing. I don't ever want to hide the truth from you, Blake, so yeah, I do care about kissing you. There's a lot of things I want to do with you, and it includes kissing. But here's another truth: I care about you more. Whatever you decide, I'll always be your friend." She pauses, a little self-conscious. "I promise this whole speech isn't to pressure you into anything you don't want. I just need you to understand that I'm your friend first."
Blake's eyes are wide, impossibly golden in the morning sunlight - and no longer expressionless. There's still fear - haunting, overwhelming fear - but Yang sees the sadness and longing hidden underneath, and it gives her all the strength she needs to keep going.
"And as your friend, I am worried about you."
"I'm fine," Blake croaks out, and doesn't convince either of them. Yang shakes her head.
"No, you're not," she counters, quietly. Blake's jaw tenses, but Yang doesn't let it deter her, unfolding fingers one by one as she lists her evidence. "You act paranoid every time you go outside the house. You can't sleep without your light on. You're barely eating. You flinch whenever the phone rings."
Blake sets her tea on her bedside table and crosses her arms against her chest, teeth worrying at her lower lip. "You don't understand," she says, weakly. She doesn't deny any of it, though, and Yang breathes out in relief. Progress, at last.
"Then tell me."
Blake curls into herself like she's physically trying to disappear, and Yang's eyes sting with unshed tears. Seeing Blake like this is devastating - she's so obviously in pain, and so reluctant to even admit it. "You helped me when I needed it," Yang says, softly. She reaches out and places her hand on Blake's bare knee, hoping her touch will convey everything her words cannot. "Please, let me help you, Blake."
Blake closes her eyes, and her jaw clenches. She looks like she's at war with herself, and Yang rubs her thumb lightly on her skin, trying to soothe her even a little bit.
"Bottling things up never works. You can trust me."
When Blake doesn't answer, eyes tightly shut, shoulders drawn inward, Yang gives her a gentle little pat on the knee, and removes her hand. "Come find me when you're ready to talk. I'll be in the garden, near the tomatoes we planted together."
She stands up, grabs her cup of coffee - it's cold by then, but she couldn't care less - and steps out of her bedroom, closing the door behind her.
When Blake meets her in the garden, a good fifteen minutes later, she's not wearing her hat, nor her sunglasses, and Yang's heart thrums with hope at the sight.
Blake stands in front of her, spine rigid like steel, and looks up until she's staring in Yang's eyes. She inhales, exhales through her mouth, like a diver about to jump into the depths of the ocean.
"His name is Adam," she says. Her voice doesn't shake. "And he wants me dead."
