Chapter 12: K-POP

"There are no more pearls to be found in a life without love. But in case you forgot, opals are mined through violence."

— 24 —

The sky was the color of neon, snow, and ash. I'd found myself on an outside patio near one of the upper levels of Junior's, leaning forwards on the railing overlooking the street. The January chill cut to the bone, carried by an ocean breeze that mixed with the industrial filth from the billowing smoke-pipes in Catchfire. From up here, everything on the streets seemed small, like the hustle and bustle of human life was some sort of virulent mold growing on the concrete. But crane your neck parallel to the marching surface and la Vale revealed her tricks.

Light from airships and the roar that even a couple miles of air couldn't muzzle. The industrial centers of Vale along the coast, leading out past dozens of ships in the harbor to a distant island partway between Vale and Patch. The occasional ship of the Royal Navy. The skyscrapers at the heart of the city, some pristine towers of glass, others unhallowed temples to product. Purple neon called this part of town home. But among the skyscrapers, clean lights dominated, too distant to make out anything but movement from the occasionally oversized image that made it hard to work out what they were selling.

This was Vale. In all her damaged glory. The city so many people were willing to fight and die for. I burned Aura to stay awake and prevent myself from shivering.

I recalled trawling her streets once in a hungover haze of rage and seething incompetence when Ozpin had insulted me. Screwing with law enforcement until it came back to bite me and my team in the ass. And before that, wandering lost, with nothing but bad thoughts and a letter welcoming me to Beacon for company.

I wondered where I'd be if I hadn't pursued that. And then, with a laugh, I thought maybe I never really had a choice. I might have broken down giggling, but I was hardly the only person on the balcony. A few couples, a few people smoking solo. I didn't want to make a scene.

A woman appeared beside me, leaning her back on the railing. Arms folded. Red dress. Miltia. "Is the view that funny?" she asked, but there was an edge to her voice.

I stood a little straighter, regarding her. "Lost in thought."

"I can see that. Brooding alone in public places seems to be half of what you do."

I shook my head. "No, it's more… you ever been to a funhouse?"

Miltia shook her head.

My eyes fell upon the lights from the tallest tower in Vale, distant, yet close enough I felt I could reach out and touch it. "They're linear sequences of scares, the funhouse. Take it or leave it are the only choices we're given. We find or put ourselves in these kinds of situations all the time."

"You're never locked in to so few choices," she said, looking back to the door to the balcony.

"That's the thing, though. You've only got two choices not because it's divine mandate. You only have two choices—take or leave, go and withdraw—because of who we are. Free will is a sloppy construct. We don't exist in a solipsistic vacuum. We don't always have a choice in who we become. And who we are dictates the left-right boundaries of possibility. We act on the parameters we're given."

She folded her arms, arching an eyebrow. "I didn't take you for the philosophical sort."

I shook my head. "I'm not. I despise navel-gazing and nihilism. If some advanced theory of consciousness and everything doesn't really help change your daily life, why bother?"

Miltia made a noise I couldn't interpret. "Speaking of bother, you promised me you weren't going to cause trouble."

I side-eyed the woman. She was over half a foot shorter than me, and I wondered how many pounds I had over her. "And here I thought you wanted another dance."

"In a manner of speaking," she said, smile thin.

"Business or pleasure?"

"I find business pleasurable."

"You're a lucky lady," I said.

"You harassed a patron and apparently offended my sister," she said more seriously. "Huntsmen do this, you know."

"We do?"

"Give them time," she said. "I've seen so many who think they're above regular people just because they can punch and run harder than someone should. Happens when they get older and wash out of the Hunter lifestyle especially."

I merely regarded her.

"Junior hires people like me and my sister because we can hold our own against you. Doesn't change the fact that if you run the numbers, maybe a fifth of all serious violent crime, especially organized, has at least one ex-Huntsman somewhere in it."

"Were you one once, Miltia?" I asked, flashing my Aura.

She looked up at me. For a moment, she had a brief glow. It helped smooth the chill-bumps on her arms. "No. There are a dirty dozen other ways to end up in these places, Jaune."

For a moment, I imagined the funhouse. Waking up in Vale, screaming and clutching my face. Digging fingers into my skull and eyes until I found the welcome letter to Beacon. What would I have become if I hadn't followed it? If I'd been too chickenshit to follow that obvious lead? I could imagine myself as having become like Miltia. Odds on favorite I would have somehow ended up with that likes of—what was his name, the criminal?—Roman Torchwick. People like him.

I remembered mixing alcohol and amphetamines in another life and seeing nothing but red. Blind anger at my father, Nicholas Arc, and throwing a punch that'd lead to a bevy of new scars. Beating a boy wearing my face to death with my bare hands. Blake had threatened to shoot me for it all. What if I'd nurtured that side of me?

Blake appeared in my mind's eyes, as I took her hand and asked her to jump from a roof with me. Dancing with Ruby in the fishery. Making bagels with Weiss. Annoying Shamrock during team study sessions.

I shook my head. "Linear sequences of scares, Miltia, remember?"

She sighed. "I suppose." Then frowned. "I'm trying to intimidate you into behaving and you're not making it easy. Stop making me introspective. "

I shrugged. "I get into a lot of girls' feelings. Don't be ashamed."

"Just feelings?" she asked, almost dangerously.

I looked into her eyes and the red mascara around them. It must have taken half an hour to get just right. I wondered how much longer I could pretend to be deep, maybe even a distant threat to this woman. It didn't feel like me. Anymore than Coco right now felt like herself. I had trouble imagining Miltia was genuinely interested so much as just a mix of her mannerisms and boyish wishful thinking. Every time I opened my mouth, I felt that much closer to breaking the illusion, and she'd see me for the same harmless idiot my team did. I doubted that Jaune was anywhere near her type.

Simone had once told me—

My train of thought hit a wall, and I blinked.

That was it, wasn't it? I'd been dancing around it all night even though it was so in my face it had gone bone-deep into the gray matter. All night it'd been like this for me, for one reason or another. It felt like I hadn't really been given time to air my thoughts for the longest time. I'd been trying to live for the moment, doing everything I could to avoid being self-aware, avoid conscious thought.

But all this night that's where I'd been. Lost in the past. Stuck in the maybes and coulda-beens.

Reveries.

I was good at this. Giving no mind to the impossible, the things I couldn't control. It was only when it failed that I fell into this funk.

Coco wasn't nearly as skilled as me on this one front.

Miltia was giving me a curious look. Which only got more intrigued as my eyes went from her makeup to décolletage to the outlines of hidden weapons under her sleeves. Neon lights colored her pale skin into a pastel pastiche

Go with the flow. See where it leads you.

I produced a pack of smokes and offered it to her. She held my eyes as she leaned forwards and took one with her teeth, striking it against the ignition patch before standing back up. "You're going to give me cancer, Jaune. I don't typically smoke this much. It's usually just a disarming conversation starter."

"A lot of women find me dangerous to their health, too," I said.

"I bet," she said, offering me the next drag.

"Do me a favor, Miltia."

"Depends what I get out of it."

I exhaled smoke to the side. "Sharing spit like this isn't enough?"

Miltia didn't reply. She just took the cigarette back.

"Find me somewhere private in this club."

She looked mildly scandalized. "Aren't you forward?"

I felt my heart in my throat and swallowed it. Her way of talking was just part of the dance. "Only insofar as it gets me what I want."

"And what do you want?"

The dance said to press my luck and say you. You miss every shot you don't take. But that wasn't really true, what I wanted. I seriously doubted I could keep up these airs much longer in any case. I was walking a tightrope I'd somehow found myself on, enough to keep her attention but prevent hostility. I was fronting hard just to get this far.

Simone and Blake's faces flashed through my mind.

Don't think about it. I was going to mentally exhaust myself if I kept this up. It wasn't like I was ever going to see this woman after tonight in any case.

"To avoid messing up your hair as best I can," I said.

Miltia stood there, one hand on hip, the other holding the smoke. Again she said nothing, just quirking an eyebrow expectantly in what I was beginning to think of as her signature expression.

"Somewhere to talk to Coco Adel alone before she causes a problem," I said.

"Terribly rude to ask a girl to help you get another girl alone," she said mildly.

"I never learned me no manners," I said.

Miltia eyed me speculatively. "So you three did come here to cause trouble."

"I'll owe you one if you help me prevent it."

"How, then, might I cash that favor out?"

I smiled. "Use your imagination."

"I have a wild imagination, Jaune."

"That's what I'm counting on," I said, winking.

She took a drag, thinking it over. As I took it from her for the next inhale, she said, "No matter how you shake it, this is an implied threat. You don't really expect me to believe that if she causes a problem, you won't too. How dangerous are you really, Jaune?"

That was a loaded question if ever I saw one. The path between boyish boasting and underselling myself was thin.

"No more than you make me," I said, hoping it was what she wanted.

Miltia looked up at me. "May I see your weapon?"

I wanted to ask why. The dance said go with it. I reached under my jacket and twirled the heavy weapon around my fingers, uncaring who around us might see the gun.

Once upon a time, I'd named it XO. It had been painted pink with little hearts. Months of wear, tear, routine maintenance, and modifying it with Ruby hadn't been kind to the intent of its original design. It was oiled steel with glowing illuminum paint on the sights, smelling distinctly of metal and faint gunpowder. I didn't have the artistic talent to replace its original gaudy look.

Miltia took it in her hands. Our fingers met. Until hers briefly brushed the white buckshot scars on my knuckles and I let go. She examined it, manipulating it in her hands, eyes strangely childlike in the glow of advertisements. Bright pink in the light one moment, then teal, then blue as the images changed from one product to the next.

I knew if I wanted it back, all it took was the right gesture. The Grav-Dust microtech Ruby helped me install in the grip would pull it back to my palm.

"I recognize parts," she said ponderously, running delicate fingers over the steel. "The barrel comes from a Moss & Weber Exorcist. The cylinder looks Atlesian. Cannibalized in pieces. Custom made in others. Some of them are old.

"You can tell a lot about someone by the weapons they wield," Miltia added, almost as an afterthought. "Huntsmen are known for their custom kits. Designing the perfect tools to synergize with how they fight, how they kill."

"For a group you hold little regard for, you have a romanticized image of Huntsmen," I said.

Her eyes fluttered to me. "I meet plenty of washouts. The failures and rejects of your schools. But people who've actually seen Grimm and killed them?"

"Have you ever?"

Miltia glanced askance, towards an low-flying airship. As if looking for answers from a higher power. "Once. Chained at the heart of the necropolis in Bim Lau back in Mistral. They used to sacrifice people to it for protection in days past. I had an Aura when I was there, too. And I could feel its hatred, something so ancient it defied time and age both." She took another drag, and I didn't interrupt her. I got the sense this had been on her mind for a very long time, but her encounters with Huntsmen prior to me had been too adversarial to let her air these thoughts.

"That cold void, a hole in reality that threatened to suck me in. That's what it felt like," she almost whispered. "A slavering mouth meant to swallow my soul. It made me realize I never wanted to be a Huntsman. I never wanted to deal with these demons. What does that tell you about the people like you who do? The ones who don't wash out and turn to crime or tribalism. You can't fight things like that without leaving a little part of yourself behind with every kill, every hunt. I don't believe it."

"Because you've seen it in the eyes of the washouts and veterans," I said.

She nodded gravely. "I see it in Coco Adel, even. She hides it under sunglasses to fool the world. There's nothing romantic about your lifestyle. Just the cruel fact that only a fool dares underestimate her opponent."

"Where do you estimate me to be?"

"Right in front of me," she said, smiling thinly.

I was about to say something when she did something to one of her red gloves. A spring loaded mechanism activated, snapping in place to reinforce the structure of a long claw. Maybe it was because I wasn't focusing in the moment, but somehow I didn't jump at the surprise appearance.

She held her wrist out, and belatedly I realized she was inviting me to return the examination. I couldn't really fathom why. Ruby would probably have something more interesting to say here, more intellectually stimulating. Instead, I locked onto the only thing I could. I leaned slightly to examine a thin channel along the center of the blade, extending from an engraving of a spider barely visible.

"It reacts to hemoglobin," she said. "That's—"

"Blood," I said.

She seemed oddly satisfied. "It comes from a spider in Mistral. Spiders mean a lot to where I'm from. It coats the middle channel, this little groove here in the center. The venom is harmless. Eat it, inhale it, touch it, you're fine. But sink into flesh, and it binds with blood to create a chemical like cyanide."

She paused, waiting for me to grasp the implications. The cigarette burned impatiently between her fingers.

"Slash and you're fine," I said. "Little cuts won't kill anybody. But stab wounds, the kind that are designed to actually kill, will make sure of it."

Miltia looked approvingly. "Got it in one."

"Ever use it?"

"Have you?" she deflected, running her thumb over the revolver's cylinder.

The implication was as crystal and brittle as glass. She'd seen me on the news. This wasn't about whether or not I'd been in a fight. This was a more human topic. I'd come so close with that thing wearing my face, before Blake and Weiss stopped me.

Then there was that memory. The things Simone told me about who and what I really was. Taking my own fate in my fingers for the first time in my life, and breaking it.

Miltia took my silence for what it was worth, and suddenly seemed a little at a loss for how to proceed. She looked away from me first. She pressed something on the back of her glove. The weapon was retracted, and only now that I noticed that little fuzzy bits around the wrist were what hid the mechanism.

"We all carry our edges," she said. "The tools we need to survive. We are dangerous in our own ways, by the things we carry. But I've disarmed you, haven't I?"

I couldn't tell if it was a legitimate challenge or a tease. She ran her fingers over the groove of my revolver, and I was suddenly reminded of one of the first days in combat class. A lesson from Glynda Goodwitch of all people that I should have forgotten in one of my many hungover first days of the academy.

"A weapon is an extension of the self, trained and honed properly of course," I said, attempting to recall her words. "But it's not the extension that really matters. At the end of the day, you yourself must be the instrument, the threat. Your own self and the soul that drives you. Some use speed, some use wits. I prefer strength and muscle and jungle work. A weapon merely extends the reach of those abilities."

She went quiet. "You don't need this to be a threat."

"I just need to get my hands on you."

"Is that likely?"

"Would you like it to be?"

Miltia considered me for a long time. We held each other's eyes. She bit her lip, saying and doing nothing. Until, slowly, she held the revolver back out to me. Our fingers touched again in the exchange.

"I think I'd like you in my debt," she said quietly. "One I intend to collect."

"I think I wouldn't mind your company to work that out," I said, knowing I'd never see her again. Not in any way that mattered. Not when I closed my eyes and saw Simone and Blake.

She brought her fingers to her lips for one last drag before offering it to me to finish. I dragged it to the filter before putting it in an ashtray.

"We have a deal?" I asked.

Miltia shook her head. "Not in any way you want. We have rooms. They're in use right now. Can't get you one unless you want to kick someone out."

I thought on it. "Kick Coco out. I don't want her in any clubs tonight."

She cocked an eyebrow. "And get a fight on my hands?"

"I'll be there. I'll make something up for her."

"She'll believe you?"

"I won't give her a choice."

"Do I?" she asked.

"I'm not in the business of making threats."

Miltia pauses for a very long time, sizing me up. "Let's keep things as promises between us, then. Deal?"

She turned for the door, and I bit down the bevy of questions like where are you going? or should I just stay here? or their selfsame ilk. I let silence, implication, and body language answer those. When she glanced over her shoulder to me, I followed, and she didn't look back or say anything on the matter.

As soon as I was absolutely positively sure she wasn't going to look back and accidentally see me, it was all I could do to keep from slumping. It came over me like it was something electric, a twitching up and down my spine. Cringe and embarrassment in all its flagellating forms. A feeling so strong it was almost a kind of spiritual nausea, like overdosing on nicotine.

This was almost certainly going to bite me in the ass at some point, but that was a problem for future me. Far, far future me, and right now I had a present to focus on.

— 25 —

After traipsing around Junior's, hauling Ruby along to just be a bad influence, she'd finally found someone new worth talking to. Now, of course, Ruby really didn't know how to wingman. Coco personally doubted the girl even knew what she was doing.

But the blonde girl with the dress made of feathers was something else to look at. She almost looked too classy to be here. And what was that adorable accent of hers? Girl looked familiar somehow in a way Coco couldn't place. Still, no matter how sloppy Ruby was at helping, Coco just couldn't help herself from talking to her.

She and Coco swapped drinks and took a photo of themselves doing it. Ruby was also there, of course. Coco uploaded it to her feed with a laugh. But half of the reason was to keep a record of the girl. She looked familiar in a way Coco couldn't place, but couldn't let go. It tickled her inland empire.

"Is that what I really look like these days? I'm so awful," the girl said, marveling at Coco's scroll. She took a pull of Coco's drink and snickered. "Wow, this is so much sugar."

"She only drinks girly drinks," Ruby said from beside Coco.

Coco put a head to her breast in mock offense and nearly missed. She wasn't drunk, no. Not yet. But she could feel her face going numb, her limbs feeling like there was a slight but pleasant delay between thought and action. "I hate booze. Coffee, too."

The blonde arched an eyebrow, and man could that thing go high. "Coco of team CFVY hates coffee? I feel like my whole life's a lie. Again."

Coco snorted, although she couldn't remember whether or not she mentioned she was a Huntress. Oh, wait, she probably just saw it on Coco's feed. "I take it half-and-half. Half coffee, half sugar. Double the high."

"Yeah," the blonde said, picking up her drink. Something about the precise way she moved felt familiar. "At least it's sugar. I used to know someone who liked his coffee cold because the burn of whiskey heated it up for him."

"Sounds like my uncle," Ruby said, leaning over to sneak a sip of Coco's drink.

"Hey, no—mine," Coco said, pulling her drink back.

The blonde gave Ruby a significant look. "Here, take mine. Any more and I'll start doing things I regret."

"Nah, finish it," Coco said, nudging the girl, who felt oddly solid despite her lithe build. "We all come here to do things we'll regret."

"We do, do we?" the blonde said, smiling thinly. "Speak for yourself, Coco. I am perfect and flawless."

"Mm," Coco hummed. "So, miss flawless, what is your name?"

The girl fluttered her lashes. "Asking me for a name without buying me a drink first? How scandalous!"

Coco shrugged. "Well, it's early Saturday night. I can budget in a scandal or two."

She regarded Coco evenly. Slowly growing more intrigued. "Didn't you say you were on a timer because of your designated driver? Where is this mysterious chauffeur boy of yours?"

Oh. That. On a technical level, that didn't mean nothing could really happen at night. She had an eventual obligation to leave. But just because facts and logistics got in the way of seeing where this conversation was going didn't mean it would stop her.

Coco waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, him? Pfft. I saw him walking off with one of the girls that play security here not long ago. I'm sure we'll all be losing track of time tonight."

"Did he now?" she asked with a certain sense of detachment that somehow came across as mildly venomous.

Coco adjusted her beret. The dang thing kept sliding around tonight. She looked to Ruby for some help. This wasn't hard to talk about, but suddenly her mind felt kind of fuzzy. Happened when she tried too hard to focus on that girl.

Ruby just kind of sat there. She caught Coco's look and shrugged, as if she had no idea what Coco was trying to ask. She almost looked annoyed.

The nameless girl adjusted her dress, those pristine white feathers that look like they cost a fortune. She wondered what bird they'd come from, whether they were plucked fresh or maybe grown in a lab somewhere. Whatever it was, it was probably big, ornery, and gorgeous. Coco would have stared more at it, trying to pick at the part of her brain that said it was familiar to her, except she didn't want to look like she was just nakedly ogling this girl. The dress was a tight, form fitting cut. And the body it hugged was definitely one she could get used to.

The outfit was why she sat here next to the girl, after all.

The lack of conversation wasn't helping anyone, however.

The blonde jerked her head to the side in a motion so sudden Coco nearly jumped, partially because it took a moment to register through the haze of alcohol. The look on her face was equal parts sneer and concern.

"Whoa there, you alright?" Coco asked, feeling her chances with this girl slipping away like sand through an open palm.

The girl pushed her drink towards Ruby and stood up, brushing at her dress. "No, no, my, uh—I felt my scroll buzz. It's probably my mother. I'm going to, uh—"

She looked up again and excused herself. Coco just sat there, dumbfounded as the girl retreated into the crowds and vanished. She hadn't even gotten the girl's name, nor her number. Although she wondered if a girl who reacted that visually to getting a text or anything was someone she wanted in her life.

Coco blew air through her lips, tugging at her beret. "Ruby, I take it all back. You're a terrible wingman."

Ruby paused, surreptitiously reaching past Coco to grab the girl's drink. "I was doing what now?"

With a sigh, Coco wet her fingers in her drink and splashed droplets at Ruby. She flailed her arm to avoid getting wet, and Coco just busted a gut laughing.

"Nah, nah, it's okay, I'm not really expecting anything tonight," Coco said, rubbing her numbed cheek. "I'm just glad I've still got you."

"I wouldn't leave you," Ruby said, as if offended.

Coco pat the girl's head. "I know, kid. You're like the daughter I never wanted. And unlike a real kid, you don't leave me with awkward stretch marks that I'll forever blame on you for ruining my looks."

"Oh goody, I have three moms now and a husband. I'm just collecting family members like it's going out of style." Ruby shrugged, an over the top gesture, and then newly coughed out a lung after taking a sip of the blonde girl's drink.

All Coco could do was laugh. It felt nice. It was hard to remember the last time she really laughed. Felt like an eternity. Thinking that far back got fuzzy, and belatedly she realized she was still capable of doing it because she didn't have enough to drink.

She propped her head up on her elbow, looking out at the crowds, trying to see who else around at this hour might be convinced to buy her a drink. She could afford it herself, yes, but it was the principle of a thing.

Of course, the way her luck was going tonight, she had exchanged a pretty blonde for a surly one. Jaune was hard to miss. She probably couldn't have missed him even if she was completely smashed, just the way he was moving towards her.

Honestly, it was mostly how he walked. She doubted she could have missed anybody moving like that. Eyes focused on her. Standing tall, but neck bent forward slightly as if preparing for a fight, to protect his throat. Fists balled. Moving with a precise economy of motion that made him walk just a little too fast not to be obvious.

He had disappeared with Miltia Malachite last she saw him. Maybe he was just pissed he'd scored out with Miltia. Until Coco saw the Malachite twins stalking not far behind him. Melanie had her eyes firmly on Coco, but Miltia? She was staring at Jaune's back a little too intently.

Coco nudged Ruby. "Look alive, it's your husband. With another woman."

Ruby sighed sufferingly. "As soon as I qualify for alimony, I'm leaving him. He's too clingy."

At the rate he was going, it didn't take Jaune long to get there. He refused to sit, preferring to loom over Coco. His balled fists made the veins on his arms stand out in a way which made Coco think of horse cock. She probably would have laughed at the thought, except she really didn't like the face he was making. It did something with the scar on his cheek that looked ugly, the one he got over winter break.

"Alright, don't be mad," Jaune said.

Coco leaned back against the bar, looking up at him and crossing her legs. "Already pissed. You're blocking my view. Take two steps to the left. There was a cute girl who just left and I wanna see if she's coming back."

He shook his head, meeting Ruby's eyes. "We're being kicked out."

Coco sat up sharply. "The fuck? No, we're not!"

The Malachite sisters stood to the sides, with Coco in their crossfire. In a way where she couldn't focus on one without the other having a clear view of her back. It ached with the thought.

"Yes, what did you do, Jaune?" Miltia asked, faintly amused. But she was still standing stiff and alert.

He hesitated, looking between the sisters. "Some jackass accused me of juicing. I denied him with my fists. He doubled down. This continued. And now we're banned from Junior's."

Coco hissed. "Fuck we are!"

"Coco," Melanie said sharply, hands very carefully placed to grab her weapons. "Let's not get any more blood on the dance floor."

"Terrible song," Jaune said with a shrug. "You wouldn't force them to play an awful song, would you?"

"I'm not leaving!" Coco said. "This is my spot. This is my place. Screw these hoes, we're staying. I ain't leaving without someone on my arm or something. I am too sober for this shit right now."

The sisters tensed further. Jaune kept looking at Ruby, giving a small nod.

Ruby sucked on her lips, then grabbed Coco's arm. "Hey, look what you caught. It's me. I'm on your arm. And I really don't wanna fight on a nice night out. That last time I dealt with the cops—yuck. I hate cops."

"You wouldn't call the cops," Coco dared Miltia, who said nothing. Just kept looking at Jaune for affirmation or something.

"No," Jaune said. "But the couple guys I may have hurt have. So we're being kicked out and we really need to leave now before they arrest all of you for being with me."

"Gods, fuck you, Jaune!" Coco threw her glass at him. It shattered harmlessly against his Aura. He didn't even flinch. "Why is everything your fucking fault! This was a chill night. A cool night. You ruined it all!"

"Yeah," he said. "And now we have to go."

Coco looked between the people around her and ran her hands over her face. "Shit, shit, alright. Lemme—y'know what? Screw Junior's, I got—I know places. This area, lots of—go eat shit, Malacunts!"

She tried to stand, and found herself floundering. A lance of pain shot through her spine, cracked and broken peacing grinding against each other loud enough she could hear them. She hissed, reaching for her Aura to support her.

Jaune and Ruby grabbed her, and she shoved them away. "I'm not drunk, leave me alone!"

"Coco?" Ruby asked nervously.

"You're still cool, Ruby," she said, adjusting her beret. "Come, c'mon. Jaune, you can fix this. Cover my tab. We'll find somewhere better!"

Coco stormed off, Ruby on her heels. All the while Melanie was watching her, as Miltia continued to look at Jaune. Blaming him, of course. He was dangerous. He did—whatever. Shit!

She wasn't drunk. Not for sure. Not enough. She could still feel her spine. The disks clinking and scratching. All the way outside. It meant she was sober. She was good, in the worst way.

Coco leaned against the wall outside, feeling the bouncer's eyes on her. Ruby rubbed her arm.

"Coco?" she asked.

"What?" Coco demanded, and Ruby flinched.

"You good?"

"Where is that boy? Argh, he's always doing this!"

Ruby's silver eyes were so wide. "Coco, it'll be fine. We don't need that stupid club. You were getting weird anyhow."

Coco snatched her arm from Ruby. "I know. It's fine. Everything is fine. I'm fine. You're perfect. We're good, yeah? We're good. Where is he?!"

Jaune emerged from the alley, like he came from one of the side exits of Junior's, hands in his pockets. "Hey, Coco?"

She stabbed her finger towards him. "No. Not another word. I'll fix it, alright? I'll fix it. C'mon!"

It'll be fine. Coco was sure of that. This was her night of fun and drinking. Maybe someone she'd meet for a distraction. It wouldn't hurt. Nothing would hurt. She could forget and be comfortable.

She put her Aura up stronger, dulling sensation. Using it to sheathe her body, keep herself warm against the cold air. Coco was a leader. That was her job. She knew best. She'd done this before. Maybe instead of one higher-end club, it'd just be a bar crawl. From sundown to sun-up. Yeah, that'd be it.

She'd show Ruby a fun time, and even Jaune might get that stick out of his ass. He was her protegé, after a fashion. Couldn't have him cramping her style.

Plus, she knew the area. Probably. What street was this? Gods, she was wobbly on her high heels tonight. Every step was another stab through her. Until she got to the next club she knew.

The bouncer was getting off his scroll when he saw her, his expression suddenly blank.

"No, not you," he said. "We know about you. Go away."

Coco tried to argue. She threatened him. She could see him sweating. Until Ruby grabbed her arm and pulled her way.

She took her arm away and tried somewhere else. Another club. With bouncers who weren't part of the Bouncer Union or whatever.

That one also denied her. Ruby was hugging herself. Jaune wasn't making any expressions, just nodding to himself.

Coco took her scroll out, searching for bars and clubs within walking distance. Places open at this hour.

She went to one. Then another. And another.

The same story every time. Sometimes the bouncer would almost let her in, before pausing and asking who she was. Then she'd be denied. Coco tried once to say she and Ruby were cool, but it was Jaune who was the problem.

Jaune said nothing.

The bouncer that time said he didn't know any Jaune, just her, and she wasn't allowed in tonight.

Tonight.

Fucking tonight.

They crossed the streets. Alleys, sometimes. She scared off a couple kids smoking something in a sidestreet, storming past them. Feeling the alcohol sweat mixing with Aura to turn her entire body into an inferno.

There was even a point where they crossed by her car. How long had she been looking for something to drown herself with? The crowded streets were emptier than ever.

She saw her reflection in her own car window and laughed.

"Coco!" Ruby said. "I'm tired. We've been doing this for hours. Can we just go home?"

Jaune was already pulling out the car keys. "Be a lot cooler if you did. It's getting late."

"Did you plan this?" Coco demanded.

Ruby blinked. "What?"

"You—you—you!" Coco tried to take a step towards Ruby and wobbled.

Ruby grabbed Coco. "Hey, I got you."

Coco shoved Ruby away. The girl barely moved. Coco fell against her car. The alarm blared as she arched her back, trying to divert the pain somewhere else. To her arms and legs but not her back.

"Hey!" Jaune shouted, reaching her.

"I'm fine!" Coco said desperately. "I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm—just leave me—I'm—I'm!"

Ruby was holding her hands to her mouth. "Coco—no!"

Coco snorted. "What?"

"No!" Ruby screamed. "Coco, you're not okay! You're not! You're angry and mean and you're drunker than my uncle and—no!"

Coco blinked. She squinted. She shook her head. "What?"

"Look at you!" she shouted, eyes oddly wet. Like she was crying. "I've been scared all night of you and I don't know what to do, but I see something is horribly wrong and you're my friend, and I'm still scared, and I—Coco, what's wrong?"

"What?" Coco asked quietly.

"What is wrong, Coco?"

"Nothing," she said quickly. Rote. Pure gut.

"Bull!" Ruby said, stomping her little foot. "Actually, y'know what? We did plan this. Not getting kicked out, but all of this!"

"Ruby," Jaune said cautiously.

"No!" Ruby said. "No, this is enough. This is crazy and it's stupid and you're scaring me, Coco. All of us! What's wrong?"

Coco pulled on her beret, tightening it. "Leave me alone!"

"Coco!"

"Open the door. Lemme in," she said, reaching for the handle. Her sweaty hand slipped off the door. She tried to grab it harder, firmer, holding herself up with it. "Open. Open. Y'know what, fuck it. I'll… where's my purse? I'll call a cab."

Jaune opened the door. Coco tried to slide in and just fell face-first into the backseat. It smelled of old car and snacks lost under the seat years ago. She rolled onto her back and pressed herself against the far door, as far away from the two as she could get.

The boy got in with her, closing the door. Ruby crawled in shotgun, looking over at Coco from the center console.

"What kinda porno setup is this?" Coco asked, rubbing her forehead. "Y'know what? You're right. Let's go home. Stop looking at me like that."

"This isn't working, Coco," Ruby said. "Please, just talk to us. Or someone."

"What are you…" She trailed off, looking into Ruby's wet eyes. "Don't look at me like that, Ruby. Stop it."

"How am I supposed to look at you, Coco?" Ruby asks, rubbing her face. She sniffled. "I've been trying to work up the courage all night, but I couldn't figure out how to do it, and then we got kicked out, and you're so angry and I'm scared, okay? I'm scared for you."

"Yeah," Jaune said, an awkward chorus sitting by Coco's feet. He shifted uncomfortably. "I… yeah, Coco, it's scaring the shit out of me, too."

"I get it, okay!" Coco said. "I fucked up. I let you down. I let everyone down. I got us all thrown out."

"It's not like that, Coco," Jaune said, shaking his head. "I don't care me none about no club or drinking. I don't do this stuff; I'm here for you. You're my friend and I care about you. So does she."

"Why?" Coco demanded.

The question seemed to take him off guard. "Why what?"

"Why are you my friend!?"

Jaune looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers. Before he cast a smile her way. "Honestly? Inertia at this point. But that's good enough for me. So Ruby and I sorta planned to try to talk to you. Away from all the school and people and… yeah."

"You really did plan this?"

"Yeah," Ruby said, sniffling. "You're hurting, but you don't talk about it."

Coco found herself sneering. "So you saw a problem and you're taking charge. Just like I taught you. Fucking—fucking figures."

"Coco, stop," Jaune said.

"Oh, please!" Coco snapped. "Look at you. I bet this was all your idea Jaune, huh? I take you under my wing, and then shit gets fucked. I screw up and everyone looks to you to lead them in Montluçon. You took my job and my lessons and just—you just sidelined me! You'd be nothing without me, Jaune. You know that! I only took you with me on that mission because Ozpin doubted me. He was insulting you, so that insulted me! I was gonna nab Ruby, but you—I cared about you! I was trying to teach you. You, Ruby, all you bitches is my sons; should be sucking my tits. Instead, you get me drunk and shove me in the back of this stupid goddamn car and try to talk down to me!"

She didn't know what she was saying. What she was hoping would happen. She wanted to hurt Jaune suddenly. Wanted to see him wince. To get angry at her. Pissed. He wanted him to see how much she hated him in that moment. Hated him and Ruby, even. To hell with them both! To see how she felt and give up. Just give up and let her be. Stop asking questions.

Friendship ended. Problem solved. She'd nurse the regrets and hangover tomorrow together.

She'd be fine.

Instead, Jaune sighed and scooted towards her. "I used to do that, too. I liked to get drunk. I liked to get angry when people reached out to me. I used to…" He shook his head. "I used to enjoy the pointless vindictive feeling of making people hurt just because I could. Exercising power over those who dared to care about me so I wouldn't have to care about myself."

"You don't know shit about me!" Coco hissed.

He cocked an eyebrow. "More than you'd think. I distinctly remember asking you what cup size you were rocking. You were pretty forthcoming."

"Yeah, sure! Get me alone in a car and sexually harass me. Fuck you!"

Ruby growls. "Coco, ignore that. Just look at me."

"I am," Coco said. "You look pathetic and creepy."

"Are you?"

"Like you'd know! You'd know I'm fine and everything is cool. You're being weird. All of you. I don't need help."

Ruby sucks on her lips. Then she sets her expression and lungs forwards. "You're too busy wanting to be seen as cool and collected. Gimme those!"

"What?" Coco asked, huddling her knees to her chest. It didn't stop Ruby from reaching forwards and grabbing her shades.

"I gave you those, and now I'm taking them away!" Ruby said with a huff. "Now actually look at us, Coco. Please. Please. You're our friend and we love you."

The colors change. The dark, blurry shapes were suddenly so clear, so crisp. The off-white snot at the edge of Ruby's nose. The dark shadows over Jaune's face that street lamps cast through the window. Their eyes. Gods, their eyes. They were so clean, so clear.

She knew they could see her eyes, too. Unable to hide anything, not her emotions, not where she was looking, nothing. She tried to grab her hair and pull it over her face, but that didn't work.

Coco felt… naked. Stripped. In the nude. Whorishly exposed. Her eyes felt too dry and too wet at the same time. She held her hands to her face, trying to push her eyeballs away. Deeper and deeper into the sockets until the only thing she could see were the strange blotchy spots of physical damage in her own sight.

"Don't look at me!" she pleaded, she begged.

"No, Coco!" Ruby said. "Because I think we're the only ones who actually can see you. I talked to your team. They hate Jaune; they'll talk to me. Even they said you were being weird. You yelled at Fox, your friend and partner. You wouldn't talk to them. So we acted, okay? I know it sucks and it's mean and bitchy but please, Coco."

"I know!" Coco snapped, and sniffled herself. She pushed her eyes deeper into her skull. "I know, alright? I know. I know, I know, I know! I fucked up. I let everyone down. I always do. I can't do, can't do anything right. You don't have to rub it in!"

"You're in pain, right?" Ruby asked, voice suddenly softer. "You keep wincing. You can barely walk. But you're pretending so hard things are normal that you're only gonna hurt yourself worse."

"It's—I'm not useless!"

"I never said you were useless, Coco," Ruby said, reaching out to take Coco's hand. She gave it a little squeeze. "Talk to us."

"So you're just gonna corner me and demand I talk!" Coco said.

Jaune sighed. "You're alone, Coco. No one you know will see or hear you. Except us. And we're already so worried that nothing you could say could ever hurt us. I'm hardened against your antics. You can't bullshit a bullshiter."

"You don't know that!" Coco said. "You don't know what happened. You don't know what I did! What I saw, what I went through."

"I was under Montluçon, too, Coco," he said slowly. "I saw that place. I saw her. Fuck, I had to murder myself back there. I beat a clone of myself to death with my bare hands before my own partner had to drag me off."

"You what?" Ruby asked.

"Weird Grimm," Jaune said. "Don't think about it. Point is, nothing you saw or done is—I wouldn't have made it without my friends, my teammates. The people I love. They saw me at my worst. They seen me at various different kinds of worse. And every time I gazed into the abyss, they grabbed me and pulled me back. That's the only thing I've learned, if nothing else. We dig holes for ourselves. And we ain't strong enough to get out alone."

Coco shook her head. Her eyes were wet. She wasn't crying. She was too strong for that. Too much of a leader. She couldn't cry. She wasn't a kid like Ruby. "No. No, Jaune, Ruby. No. I can't."

Ruby squeezed her hand harder. "Coco, please. I'm scared. I am so scared. For you. Jaune, he's easy to figure out. You just insult him enough and he comes around. But you? Coco, let me help you."

"No," Coco whispered. "I… I did… I can't…"

Jaune put his hand on top of hers and Ruby's. He was so hot, so warm. His hands were firm. She expected him to give some plea. Some way of nagging and bitching at her to confess to everything.

Instead, he just smiled at her. Ruby was crying. Coco was totally holding it all together. But Jaune was smiling at her, warmly, invitingly.

"It's all my fault," Coco said.

"No, it's not," Ruby said. "You saw terrible things. But it's not your fault."

"I caused it," she insisted. "Because I lied."

Ruby rubbed her eye. "What?"

"Everyone who died. It was my fault. I caused it. Because I was scared."

Jaune sighed. "You don't have anything to feel guilt over, Coco. We were all there. I'm to blame as much as you, if we even are to blame."

"Haakon was alive, and I found him!" she said quickly. Her mouth was moving on its own, wet and spit-soaked. Her teeth felt dry and no matter how many times she ran her tongue over them, it never seemed to be enough. She coughed, and more words wanted to come out

Jaune blinked. "Huh?"

"I fell. That thing wearing my face pulled me down. I was all alone. There was a baby bat I found, but it died, and I found Haakon. We were supposed to find him, then go back. That was the job. But the Grimm grew a tree through him. He asked me to help. But everything hurt so badly, and I couldn't. I tried. Then a massive Grimm came up to me. It patted me on the head. It touched me and it was so smug, almost kind, and Haakon screamed for help, and I ran away. And then I coulda told you. I coulda said something. But it would kill me. I couldn't fight. I lied, said nothing, and we went deeper and deeper and deeper until we found that thing that let all those Grimm into the city."

Ruby let go on Coco, sitting up straight in the passenger seat. Staring. Eyes wide. Horrified.

Without her, Jaune's hand fell onto Coco herself. He didn't move. He held onto her hand.

"I coulda said something. I didn't. We went deeper. Everyone is dead because of me. I did it. You can't—you can't know what that's like, Jaune! I was trying so hard to be the me they needed, and now they're dead. Thousands of corpses, people murdered, eaten, because I was a stupid silent slut bitch!"

Jaune didn't move. "Huh."

"Say it!" she screamed. "Just fucking say it! I know that look in your eyes. You know I'm not lying. I'm not making it up. This isn't imaginary survivor's guilt bullshit. I murdered innocent people, and couldn't even save the ones left. Yatsu had to carry me while I was useless. As I watched Grimm devour a city. Because I was scared. I was terrified. And I was broken. Everything hurts, Jaune. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts!"

Coco's voice pitched higher and higher. She grabbed at her face, trying to hold it in. Sucked in greedy gasp through her nose to keep the snot in. Tears flooded her eyes. She felt it leaking through her fingers.

Jaune's hand was leaving hers. That dry warmth leaving her, and she felt so cold.

"No!" she said, a desperate moan.

He grabbed her and pulled her towards himself. She made a strange noise as he pressed her into his chest, holding her close and tight.

"Let me go," Coco mumbled.

Jaune hugged her tighter. Ruby rustled around, climbing over the center console to hug her too.

"Stop," she said. "I don't—stop. Don't patronize. Don't tell me it's okay and hug me."

They held her, warm and tight, and her entire body hurt and shuddered. She let out a sob. Until she buried her face in Jaune's chest and couldn't pretend anymore.

"Fuck," Jaune said, slowly, breathing it out.

Coco couldn't say anything. She tried. Mucus trailed down her throat and she coughed, and cried.

"I… I've been wrestling with my past self for as long as I care to remember because the part of me I hate is the part I don't care to remember. What you did was fucked up. I'm not gonna say you're a saint. You fucked up. People died. It happened. You did that. That's your sin. Different from mine, but we've all fucked up. And it's never okay."

"No one's fucked up like me ever before," Coco mewled. "Never ever ever. I'm the worst person to ever exist. They're dead, and I was useless!"

Ruby ran her fingers through Coco's hair. "I almost killed my sister once. I know how it feels."

Coco sniffled. "You what?"

Ruby was crying as much as Coco, barely holding it in better. Smiling hard and wide through it all. "My sister. Yang. One time we went out for a walk. I rode in a little wagon. She was trying to find her mom. She was confident in our adventure. And I was scared. I was so scared. It attracted them, y'know? Grimm. Because I was scared. They hurt her. She would have died if my uncle hadn't saved us. And I still—I still think she blames me sometimes. It's why I think sometimes she doesn't like to hang with me. Because some part of her remembers that day, and is scared I'll get scared or emotional and get her killed. Get us both killed.

"It's not that I nearly killed her, Coco. It's the terror that she knows and remembers. And even if she says it wasn't my fault, that she blames herself, that she still thinks it's me. Which is why we don't do much together anymore. That guilt. That blame. Because I was scared and stupid."

Ruby hugged Coco tighter. "You're scared. You're stupid. You were back, then. I… you did something wrong. Horribly wrong. But you're still Coco. You hate yourself for it because you know it was wrong. If you could go back in time, would you—"

"Yes!" Coco said quickly. "I.. the nightmares. The pain. The hurt. I can't live with this. I can't forgive myself. No one can. I don't want to live with this."

"So live against it," Jaune said.

"What?" she asked.

He let out a long, shuddering breath. Like he was barely holding it together himself. "I told you. I've done horrible things to people I loved. You did it to those you didn't, at a different scale. Not a moment goes by I don't remember and cringe at who I was. But I… I learned the only person who can forgive you is you. Because if you're being real with yourself, you gotta hold yourself to the highest possible standard. I know that sounds arrogant or whatever. But it's true. You beat yourself up over everything you've done more than anyone because you're the only one who knows who you truly were. You are Coco Adel, in all your damaged glory. You are brash, headstrong, vicious, clever, pretty, and you act like the hottest shit when you feel your ego is threatened. Because you know what you've done. Everything. All of it."

"What the hell does that mean?" she asked.

Jaune made a mirthless laughing noise. "You know who you were and what you done better than anyone, but you're still alive. You make that fucking count, Coco. You make it count with everything you do. You run yourself ragged to make it up to the world and those who love you for what you've done. You fight and you fight over the childish fantasy of being a better person, someone worth loving and respecting by yourself, no matter what you know you done. And if that don't come, you just work harder and harder and harder."

Coco sniffled. "So, what, just beat myself up?"

He hugged tighter. "You face the problem. And you don't do it alone. You told us. You're admitting it out loud. That's the first step. You have to tell your team, too. The people with you for years, who always gotta have you back, they have to know. It's the only way to deal with life itself: with others, supporting and supported by loved ones."

She breathed. She focused on her lungs. Her noise. The little sobs escaping her throat, like horrible hiccups. She felt so weak. So shaky. So many things hurt, from her spine to her ribs. Encased her.

But the hugs helped.

It was stupid to admit. She was a crying, pathetic wreck in the backseat of her own car, but the two pairs of arms around her… helped. They were warm. They were inviting.

There were human.

"I'll try," she whispered.

"It's not gonna be easy," Ruby said seriously, wiping a tear from Coco's cheek. "But don't do it alone. You have me. You have Jaune. And you'll have your team. You have to rely on people. Nobody can bear life alone. I would know. I've seen what it does to people. That's why I'll never let anyone face the monsters alone."

"Yeah, she's good at it," Jaune said, nudging her with his elbow.

Ruby made a face. "I said people, Jaune. Not boywives. I don't care what happens to you. Now, Coco, who's all cool and tall and can somehow run around in high heels? That's a person!"

"Luh ya too, Ruby," he sighed.

She giggled.

And you know what? Coco did too. She laughed with Ruby, through the pain, the insanity, the sheer absurdity of being where she was. Until she could barely control herself.

The truth was out there. She wasn't alone. They didn't forgive her; they held her accountable as best they could. Pushed her towards something. A goal, at least. She buried her face in Jaune's chest and laughed.

"Gods," Coco said. "Jaune, buddy, kid, boy—no offense, but this is literally the gayest conversation I've ever had. I mean that."

He shrugged innocently. "Hey, this is still all your fault. It's payback, actually."

She snerked. "For what?"

"Remember that time we met?"

"What, in the gym?"

He nodded. "Yeah. When you interrupted my workout. I still hold that against you. I don't care how many dicks I have to suck, but I'll never give you a moment's peace for that. Never forgive, never forget, bitch!"

And Coco laughed.

And laughed.

And felt like the worst person in the world.

But a person. A human being.

She could work on other things. Just as soon as got out of this car and told everything to her team.