The Nights are Abound with Perfect Moments
Synopsis: …and while that really should have no bearing on these two, they were there when others weren't. Sometimes, even the unattached gets curious about romance.
Disclaimer: RWBY belongs to RoosterTeeth, I own nothing.
Real World AU, because RWBY lacks interesting city landmarks.
Nighttime. The Lincoln Memorial. Winter.
A rather odd time for someone to visit this place. Or, perhaps, a strange place for someone to visit at this time.
During the day, it would be abuzz with activity. The many steps provided a convenient resting spot, one with a stellar view of the park, and the nearby food kiosks encouraged visitors to linger as they picnicked. Dozens, if not hundreds, of voices would blend together in a cacophony.
Meanwhile, an unending stream of tourists would filter through the atrium inside. The experience always seemed to consist of a rush to enter the chamber, a minute or so of taking the obligatory pictures, then a pressure from behind to move out of the way so someone else can have their turn. One might describe the atmosphere as business-like; brisk, efficient, impersonal.
How different the experience became, once day turned to night. When the visitor entered then, they found a hush, a stillness, which carried with it an air of solemnity. The sound of their footsteps echoed, loud as thunder in an otherwise silent room. Without the sun, the memorial's interior was illuminated by dim lights oriented on the inscriptions carved into the walls. Words that most would skim over in the afternoon became the centerpiece at midnight, drawing the errant visitor's attention. One's path became a journey from wall to wall, where unhurried eyes moved line by line, parsing through their meaning to reach the thoughts of a man living through what might have felt like the last days of a nation. It made worries of exams and last-minute gift shopping seemed petty in comparison.
Having thus whiled away the hour, their steps took them back to the center of the chamber. There, as they observed the statue, minute details began to reveal themselves. The weary hand draped over an armrest. A leg stretched out, as if seeking the most comfortable position. That asymmetric tilt to the body, coupled with disheveled clothes. Together, they gave the impression of a person who had thrown himself into the seat at the end of a long day. Long years, going by history. Rather than a king, regal and perfect on his throne, he looked more like a mere man, tired and resting. Even then, the statue's eyes remained firmly set on the far distant horizon, facing east as he awaited the rising of the sun. It'd be long yet. What was there now was a dark, dark winter's night above which a waxing moon shone.
On impulse, born of a desire to see that celestial orb, the visitor turned to take in that same view. They came face to face with a surprise.
There was the night sky. There was the pale moon.
There was dark hair, falling in a long mane. Amber eyes, brightly they glowed. She appeared as a flower blooming in moonlight. A 'beautiful woman', indeed.
She startled at the sight of someone else already present in the memorial. Black cat ears flicked as she tilted her head in curiosity.
"Jaune?"
"Blake?"
Nighttime. The Lincoln Memorial. Winter.
It was a strange place to visit at such an odd time. Two souls found their way there, nevertheless.
-o-
Leaning against a marble pillar outside the atrium, Jaune tapped out a beat on his thigh with his fingers while nursing a distinctly uncomfortable feeling in his chest. As Blake Belladonna had entered the atrium, so too had he vacated the room. It seemed only fair to grant her the same opportunity he had received, an experience of solitude and quiet contemplation. From what he knew of her she was the type to enjoy that sort of thing. And even though Jaune may not have said as much, she understood his intent. Probably.
It did leave him somewhat caught in a conundrum. Blake had also refrained from voicing her plans, so he possessed little insight on how long she would stay in the memorial and, more importantly, whether he was supposed to wait for her or not. Finding oneself alone as he had earlier was a matter of happenstance. To be left behind by someone, especially by someone they knew, held an uglier connotation.
On the flipside, one could optimistically describe their relationship as 'a friend of a friend', something that carried a lack of mutual expectation. He has never felt the obligation, nor any pressure from the girl, to go out of his way to accommodate her. Presumably, that indifference cut the other way, too. Jaune should be able to set off for elsewhere, destination still unclear, with the confidence that Blake will not take it as a personal slight.
Unless she did, for reasons only she knew. People can be odd; thank goodness he was normal.
Round and round his thoughts went, tying themselves into knots. The window to escape shrank as one minute became ten, became twenty. The half-hour mark passes, then the full hour approached, at which point Jaune worried that the very instant he attempt to leave, she would leap out of hiding to chide him for his heartless cruelty. That suspicion kept him rooted in place.
"You waited."
"!"
It was embarrassing to admit, and so Jaune will never tell anyone, but he jolted like a startled rabbit upon hearing those words from inches to his left. The conundrum stood there, flat tone and blank face expressing neither elation nor wariness that he stuck around.
Taking a half-step back, he observed the girl, searching for a sign of her current mood so he can know how to best respond to that statement of the obvious. She did not seem closed off in particular, but neither did she appear eager. If anything, her quiet attention indicated that she was waiting for Jaune to give a reply on her comment.
Truly, she expected too much of him because his mind came up empty in the end. Like always, Blake Belladonna was composed where he was not, a blank page where he would be an open book. A picture book, at that. She had ever been a mystery to the rest of them, with Ruby's sister being the only one to get any sort of reaction out of her.
Most of it being exasperation. Jaune did not believe that to be the example he should follow.
The pressure to answer, to not be a rude bore, grew and grew. It boiled over, and so...
"Yes."
...Jaune blurted out the most neutral, inoffensive response that could be made. He then proceeded to cringe at that complete non-starter of an answer.
Blink, blink went Blake's eyes, but she asked no questions in reply. Which was fair, considering he didn't how to follow up on that, either.
Time passed. Jaune fidgeted as a cold wind blew by. Blake shifted her stance. She glanced away, then looked at him again.
He stared. She stared back.
At this point, he was pretty sure one of them did something wrong. Was he supposed to have kept talking, to make up for the lackluster comment? Or should he continue to wait for Blake to talk, since it's technically her turn?
A creeping realization made its way up his spine. No matter who opened their mouth, it would extend this torture. One response will lead to another, then another, and so on, exhausting his repertoire as he try to keep up his side of the conversation.
The urge to run away intensified. In a fortuitous twist, it was for the sake of retreat that Jaune gained the courage to properly speak at last. His hand pointed in the direction of the Reflecting Pool.
"Well, I'm headed this way next."
That brilliant excuse said, Jaune went straight for the steps leading down from the memorial. Quickly, he descended to the next landing...and heard the sound of her shoes next to him.
He side-eyed Blake as he took the second flight of steps. The girl walked alongside him as if it were a matter of course. Mind running at lightning speed, he soon spotted his mistake. By pointing out a direction to her, she thought he was taking the lead to set the destination for them both.
They reached the ground, and Blake made for the Reflecting Pool. Seeing his chance for a getaway, Jaune peeled off to take the path leading to the Pool's left side.
The scraping sound of shoes pivoting on concrete denoted Blake adjusting her route to match. He caught what might be an embarrassed smile on her lips, though it quickly disappeared. It was the first emotion he has ever drawn forth from her. How amazing he was. What pride he felt.
Well, not really. That sheepish expression all but proved she had misunderstood his intentions.
Could he just abandon all subtlety and flee into the night, come what may? No?
Looks like he will have company for a while longer, then.
-o-
Along the path they walked, moonlight shining bright. The wide expanse of the Pool's water surface reflected this light upon the snow lining their way, casting the park in a soft ethereal glow. It seemed a dream, a winter night's fantasy for two; a perfect moment.
The broad strokes were there. A stroll in the moonlit park with a certain someone. The cold would draw them together, fingers brushing. A glance, and their hands would linger, each feeling the same warmth spreading to their hearts. He can see the appeal… were that to actually happen.
This had all the potential of a romantic rendezvous, one for the movies, but for the leads. Performers of two different stories, with not a spark between them.
Such a waste.
A cold wind blew through the wide gap Jaune and Blake left between themselves. His hands were firmly nestled in the pockets of his too-thin jacket. Describing it as a bone-chilling freeze would be a touch melodramatic, but winter air was still winter air and over time it seeped into his skin. As for Blake, her hands swung by her sides, clad in woolen gloves. She prepared well for the weather, he noted, with earmuffs and scarves and all.
He kept his view on the sky, finding interest in the pale moon above them. A few surreptitious glances at Blake showed her shifting attention this way and that, never lingering long. Face inscrutable, but not uncomfortable, she appeared at peace.
From time to time, when Jaune realized he walked too fast, he would stop for a second to let Blake catch up. On the other hand, she had a habit of slowing her pace down to a crawl when an interesting sight caught her eyes. Once she snapped out of it, quick steps would bring her back in line with him.
Discordant, off-sync, a passerby might assume the two to be strangers in the same vicinity, headed in similar directions by chance. Neither seemed inclined to fill the silence.
Taking a look around the park, he spied an elderly couple across the Pool. Bundled up to the nines and sitting together on a bench, they were leaning back to gaze up at the moon. He could not hear much of what they said, but by their expressions Jaune noted an easy, tranquil air. The long years between them have forged a harmony he scarcely understood.
Laughter rang out, attracting his notice. Far ahead, off to the side of the walkway, two people closer to their age were taking a smaller path leading deeper into the park. Theirs was a livelier atmosphere, shoulders shaking in mirth followed by a playful slap on the chest. The man offered his arm, and his fair lady accepted. They walked with a spring to their steps, setting off for destination unknown.
Jaune returned to moonwatching, his serene face belying a mind in turmoil; in his heart burned a desperate longing. It had been the same feeling that sent him skittering off into the dark night, hoping to escape the stifling atmosphere back on campus where it seemed as if all his friends were breaking out of their shell, discovering romance, and leaving him behind.
He had picked a direction, and set out. In search of a distraction, the aimless wander took him miles away through the Metro system. A mere whim had sent him bounding up the staircase after he reached the nearby Smithsonian Station, then across the Washington Mall all the way up to the Lincoln Memorial. New sights, new scenes, he sought experiences he has yet to see. In a deserted monument, he lost himself for a while in history.
Even then, he failed to stave off the sense of melancholy for long. Since when can one cure loneliness by being alone?
He sighed.
And he heard someone sigh with him.
-o-
Amber eyes stared into his soul, alight with curiosity. Jaune met them head on, scrutinizing Blake for a hint of her thoughts.
He had ascribed her presence at the monument, and her easy acceptance of his company, to some sort of capricious fancy on the part of the mysterious girl; one that went well beyond his limited understanding. Yet, she had reacted to the same scenes he saw in the same manner he displayed. Unless he also happened to be an entity of incomprehensible intellect, which was… doubtful, Jaune suspected her reason may be similar his own mundane plight.
For all her standoffish personality, or perhaps because of it, Blake Belladonna might be lonely beyond belief.
...Earlier, he almost entertained the idea that she was hopelessly attracted to him, to the point of following him around, but this made so much more sense.
They watched each other for a few seconds more, wary of outing themselves. Then, Jaune subtly broached the topic.
"Ren and Nora are adorable. I'm glad they finally took the plunge to start dating."
Blake nodded. "They really are, aren't they? I'm happy for them."
So she said with a deadpan face.
As he recalled the sheer joy his two friends exuded these past few weeks, Jaune had to smile, his petulance overtaken by fondness. They deserved it more than most. He continued, emboldened by Blake's easy response.
"Ruby and Weiss were a surprise, but they fit together oddly well."
"They are best friends despite their usual antics."
That was the common refrain in hindsight. Going from best friends to dating was a progression seen in quite a few successful romances. Moreover, the new dynamic had been a positive change for them. The exasperation Ruby induced in Weiss and the biting remarks from Weiss to Ruby toned down almost overnight, mellowed out by the caring gestures and soft smiles they gave one another throughout the day. How sweet.
Theirs was not even close to being the last relationship to form, though, and it became less sweet with every successive friend of his that found romance.
"I'm sick of it." Sick with jealousy, in truth. "If they, or any of our other friends, try to sneak one more damn kiss with their boyfriend or girlfriend when they think the rest of us are distracted, I'm going to scream," confessed Jaune, before remembering to gauge his companion's response.
Blake's expression could have been set in stone, and Jaune thought he made a mistake in his assumptions. Maybe he read her wrong and it was the attraction theory after all. Or, more likely, that last comment about their friends has upset her. They bordered on ill wishes for their happiness, something that drove him mad with guilt each time it popped into his mind.
He was about to walk it all back when a strange, high-pitched squeak cut him off. He panicked for a brief few seconds when Blake ducked her head, both hands coming up to cover her mouth. Worried, Jaune leaned over to catch a glimpse of her face, and in doing so realized what the sound was.
Giggles. Blake Belladonna giggled.
Truly, they have stumbled into the twilight zone.
In time, the girl recovered (though her image never would) and she tried to compose herself. Seeing him staring askance, Blake flushed red. She pulled her white scarf up to hide her expression.
"What? You made a good point," she mumbled through the fabric, "they're not as subtle as they think they are." Jaune nodded in agreement.
It surely passed over his head on the first few occasions but when five different couples tried that ploy at the same time, stealth went out the window. And Jaune wanted to follow it. Hence, here he was. And here she was.
The so-called enigma of campus peeked at him over her scarf. Her eyes twinkled with mirth. A tinge of pink remained on her cheeks, proof that, yes, she had felt embarrassed. Above her head, two cat ears flicked rapidly. Below, she fidgeted from one foot to the other. All these things combined to show a person with emotions and thoughts, a person who was alive. Someone real, rather than the pretty picture he knew her as. Dismissed her as, rather.
A shame he did not know this earlier. He might have put more effort in becoming friends with her.
Jaune snapped out of his daze, blinking. Since when he had fallen silent, he did not recall, only knowing that it had stretched on a touch too long. Grasping for ideas to continue the conversation, he panned his gaze over the park. The movie scene writ true that was the scenery around them struck him again, the view stealing his breath for the second time. The words came out in a rush.
"They would have loved to be here. Seriously, this place? Tonight? It's-"
"Perfect. Like a dream."
She noticed it too, then, what a rare opportunity a moment like this made. There would be other winter nights; ones more inspiring, more exotic. At some beach in the tropics, say, or under the Northern Lights. Moments that were worthy to be immortalized in a painting.
But none like this.
The night air, just so. The ambiance, just so. The world built a small stage, enough for two lovers. Fragile, it could not endure. In an hour's time, this scene would pass, leaving naught but a memory. Perfection never lasts.
His heart understood this truth, and that same sense of longing swelled in a crescendo. As if the world itself wanted to witness a romance, the winds of December calmed. A breeze brushed his face, carrying with it a sweet scent reminiscent of flowers. The last murmurs of the city fell to a hush. An errant cloud drifted away from the moon, unfiltered light of nature further illuminating the park.
Jaune saw it all with eyes wide in wonder. He could almost believe that the stars have aligned just for his sake. He allowed the feeling to linger as long as it could.
Then, he took a deep breath, and exhaled. Slowly, his smile faded as he let reality reassert itself. A mutter passed under his breath, colored by a trace of disappointment. "Too bad they're not here. This is kind of wasted on us."
The stars have aligned barring one little detail. The most important detail. He and Blake were little more than strangers.
He looked down to meet Blake's gaze peering up. Her eyes roamed over him, back and forth, up and down, observing his defeated stance. Affecting a smile that he did not truly felt, Jaune shrugged, willing the girl to overlook his mood. She ignored him and carried on for a few more seconds, only stepping away once she had satisfied her curiosity. Taking it as his cue, Jaune pivoted on his heels and drudged on.
"Hmmm."
The curious hum went without explanation as Blake fell into stride next to him. Jaune thought nothing of it.
-o-
On a blanket of soft snow, each footstep left a crisp *crunch*, providing a symphony to one's journey. Were a person to listen to its song, they could hear every twist and turn of a walker's gait.
That was what Jaune did, and because he had done so, a single question occupied his thought.
Was it a trick of the wind, or was Blake getting closer?
To test his theory, Jaune shifted minutely to bring Blake into his field of vision. He observed her out of his periphery.
No. No, she maintained a clear and even distance from him, their proximity neither shortened nor widened after ten or so seconds. Reassured, his eyes strayed away-
There!
Spotting an unexpected movement, Jaune fully turned his head in the direction of his companion...and he cocked his head in confusion. Blake was not even looking his way, so taken was she by the shimmering surface of the Reflecting Pool that his strange action went unnoticed. Preferring she not catch him staring, he returned his attention to the front.
The idea that he may be going insane proved ever more likely, to his consternation.
Crunch, crunch, crunch went their shoes on the thin dusting of snow. Crunch, crunch, CRUNCH!
Jaune spun towards Blake once again, and yet again he saw nothing but the back of her head. Still, he knew he heard the unmistakable sound of a footstep that was closer than the ones before. It could not have been anyone else but her. If she appeared nonchalant now, then it was merely for the sake of lulling him into a false sense of security. Wise to her ambush tactic, he continued to keep Blake in view with the alertness of a spooked mouse.
So, when her kitty ears twitched, he noticed it. When Blake smoothly turned his way, he saw it. And when she leaned to look past him with wide eyes, he followed suit to search for whatever had disturbed her. He found trees and more trees, with nothing out of place.
Crunchcrunchcrunch-
Oh, she really was quite clever.
A soft weight settled against his shoulder, and he felt an arm slipped around his own. Surprise, surprise, it belonged to Blake.
Jaune stared.
Her right hand came over to grab hold of his jacket at the elbow. Her left then traveled down his arm to brush over his wrist, drawing it from his jacket pocket. Their fingers interlaced.
Jaune stared, but harder.
In answer, she pulled closer, which… was not an answer Jaune understood. He tilted his head and, when she avoided his gaze, leaned over to block her view of the road ahead.
Blue eyes met amber. Complete befuddlement met smug satisfaction.
"Blake, what's going on?"
"I caught you."
"But why?" Said the prey to its hunter.
"A scene of romance the likes I've only read about is sitting in our lap." Blake set her sight on the moon, on the snow, on Jaune Arc. "You said it's wasted on us. I say we were the ones wasting it."
"We're not exactly the intended audience. I don't-" love you.
She shrugged. "Maybe it would better fit other people, but they're not here. Us enjoying it won't hurt them. Why not steal the moment for ourselves?"
She rested her head on his shoulder. Soulful eyes peeked up at him.
"Do you...dislike this?"
He liked this a bit too much!
He had forgotten the sensation of walking arm in arm with someone, his last relationship having ended before university. Sure, the emotional impact was muted, what with their thoughts of each other being marked mostly by ambivalence. Still, this warmth, this softness, they possessed an allure he could not deny. The mere physical act brought forth a sense of fulfillment to soothe the longing which had plagued him. With her so near, her eyes riveted solely on him, he could remember again how it felt when someone was the center of his world, and to be the only thing they cared to see.
This night began with him feeling unbearably alone, and now he was a little less so.
An unbidden grin crept its way onto his face. She answered with the tiniest of smiles.
How long he stared in silence as he enjoyed this most elegant solution, it mattered not one whit. His mind drifted off unhindered, lost in her, only regaining focus at times when she gave a breathy sigh or burrowed further into his side.
The cold hardly bothered him anymore. Two heartbeats drowned out the rest of the world. The moon shone beautifully, for it shone on Blake Belladonna.
It was as close to a perfect moment as two lonely souls can find.
-o-
Jaune sat on one of the Washington Monument's granite benches, legs outstretched. He had one arm behind to support his reclining body. The other held Blake's phone, opened to a camera app. He had snagged a few shots of the obelisk, but mostly, he was fulfilling Blake's request. Who knew she had an online presence?
For the past ten minutes, she frolicked to and fro around the monument, lost in thought. She would walk to the edge of the plaza at times, looking out towards the city. Before long, she would return to the obelisk, tracing a hand on the granite surface as she circled its walls. Something about the scene where a girl stood by herself in a place that was usually so crowded, against the backdrop made by the wide expanse of the night sky, resonated with the photographer's soul in him. It drew focus to a person who so often faded to the background.
In their gathering of friends, Blake was simply...there, doing little of note; he never gave her much thought. The more boisterous members of the group stole the show on the regular. Here, her presence as the lone subject stoked his curiosity, and Jaune began to wonder what kind of person was Blake Belladonna. Questions both personal and inane floated in his mind. Idly, he made a mental note to ask her where she bought her scarf. He had some last minute shopping to do for his sisters, and by all appearances Blake had a better sense of style than he did.
He checked the time to see midnight fast approaching. Early yet by his standards, but restless wanderlust has begun to take hold once more. He waited until Blake happened to face his direction, and waved an arm to beckon her over.
She took her time, her languid walk showcasing style and grace such that he had to snap another photo. When done, he handed back her phone. Leaving her to go through the album, Jaune hopped to his feet. A couple of steps away gave him the room to limber up with a few stretches.
A tap on his shoulder recaptured his attention. Blake fidgeted, playing with a lock of hair.
Hesitantly, she said, "There's one last thing I want to try."
When he agreed, she moved in close. Instead of hugging his arm, her hands grasped his shirt, pulling herself flushed against him. She went on tip-toes to match his height. Her eyes fluttered closed.
Jaune could take a hint. He tilted his head to catch her at a better angle. Her lips touched his a second later.
Sparks didn't fly. Passion hadn't awaken. He enjoyed it, nevertheless. Soft and feather-light, her kiss bestowed a warmth to stave off the winter chill, a warmth that he welcomed. He raised a hand to cup her cheek, the other going around the small of her back, then he leaned forward just so. Blake hummed in a pleased tone, the sound a thrill to him.
An odd fancy overtook his mind, a wondering of what could have been. For one endless second he dreamt an entire life by her side, and he forgot it just as quickly. They were happy, he faintly recalled. That dream, this reality, they blended together in another moment so near to perfection, one entirely of their own making.
All too soon, the two pulled back. Jaune and Blake then burst into giggles, in disbelief that they would do something like that on a whim.
Each would try to regain their composure, a glance at the other would cause it to crumble. Blake spun away to hide her expression, refusing to look at him until she had recovered her poise. Jaune used the chance to massage his face, willing his lips to stop smiling so wide.
When finally they could speak, Jaune still saw a blush on Blake's cheeks.
"Are you going back to campus?"
A frown, a hint. She did not want this strange rendezvous to end as of yet.
"Maybe not? I'm wide awake, and the night is young. There must be more sights to see. Want to tag along?" offered Jaune.
She agreed all too readily, though she made it clear the kiss was a one-time thing. A shame, a true shame, but for her company he accepted it.
They set out with no clear destination in mind, keeping a space between themselves as if to declare that everything has returned to normal. They've gotten that bout of melancholia out of their systems, and had their chance to experience what romance entailed. Now, neither strangers nor lovers, Jaune and Blake could begin anew as simple friends.
Yet, the 'normal' distance between them had shortened until they walked nearly side by side.
And if their glances happened to linger, or the seed of a new longing began to sprout in their hearts…well, the nights are abound with perfect moments.
Who's to say what can happen?
Author's Notes: Blake's whimsical, and Jaune's a goof.
A practice in flowery language.
I may come back to this. There's at least two other locations I can use to continue this theme.
Merry Xmas 2023