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“There is a book
living inside your chest
with dilated instructions
on how to make a safe landing.
It was written
for crash landers.
Thank you.
I am coming home to listen.”
- In Landscape (Buddy Wakefield)
---
When she comes back at half past two in the morning you’re ready for her.
She moves around in the dark, quiet enough not to wake the other two occupants of the room, but loud enough for you to hear the rustle of her cape falling to the floor. Her footsteps are muffled by the thick carpet when she pads towards your bed.
“Weiss?”
“I’m awake,” you whisper before making room for her on your bed. “I hope you don’t have mud on you.”
“Don’t worry I don’t.”
“Good.”
Ruby lifts the corner of your blanket and slides under the covers. She pulls the blanket up to her chin and turns towards you.
“Weiss?”
“What?”
“I’m sorry.”
You sigh.
“About keeping me up on a school night or for sleeping on my bed?”
She inhales, curls in on herself, exhales; the air that escapes between her lips is apologetic and tired, and she says, “Both. I’m sorry for both.”
Ruby shrinks into herself, balled up beside you like a child that did something wrong - but she hasn’t, not to you, not to anyone - , and it feels both nostalgic and entirely new. It reminds you of old winter nights, tall glass windows, and rooms far too large and far too empty. You think you understand.
“Red, if you were really sorry you’d go to sleep.”
She lifts her head at your words, eyes probably searching for yours. You look up at the bottom of the bed hanging above both of you.
“I’ve said it before, haven’t I? That this is okay.”
She says thank you in a breathless whisper and wishes you good night.
You turn to your right so your back is to her.
Ruby shifts behind you, the mattress dipping momentarily before you feel her rest her forehead between your shoulder blades. It makes your heart skip a beat. You’re not used to this but she doesn’t try to get any closer than that so you say nothing.
You feel her breath against the thin fabric of your nightdress and every exhale against your back makes you feel like your bones will rattle. Closing your eyes only makes it worse; you open them and stare at the wall.
In the dark, your suitcases look translucent and they blur together in front of your eyes like spectres sent to guard your bedside. The thought makes you shudder. It’s hard to believe that they contain pieces of your life; like a person’s life can just be picked apart, folded neatly and arranged inside bags and suitcases.
But that’s exactly what it’s like for you.
You wanted a shot at freedom so you took your life, packed it inside a suitcase, and sent it to Beacon. It’s not a happy thought, that this could just be another form of running away.
Sometimes you wonder if Ruby’s running from something too.
-
The first time you catch Ruby sneaking back into your dorm is a Tuesday and it’s only because you woke up from a nightmare.
You don’t immediately recognize the silhouette by the door as your partner and a spike of panic rises in your chest. The most you know at that moment is that there is possibly a threat; you need to wake the others, need to find something to defend yourself with before whoever they are manages to hurt any of you. But your chest hurts -from the nightmare and from fear- so you can’t think as clearly as you’d like; you don’t think you can speak loud enough to wake even just Blake.
Somehow, you decide sitting up was the best course of action.
Your bed creaks and the figure freezes; you hold your breath.
And from the dark you hear,
“Weiss?”
“Ruby?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“What are you doing?” you hiss at her, clenching your sheets in your fists.
“Removing my cape?”
“No, what were you doing? You know we’re not supposed to wander around at night!” You whisper furiously at her, your voice rising steadily, “What if you get caught? That’ll be trou-”
She’s by your side in the blink of an eye, a calloused hand clamped over your mouth, and the smell of roses is nearly overwhelming. What little light that peeks between the curtains shows you the faint outline of Ruby’s face. Her eyes are the color of molten silver and much too close. She smiles, tired and exasperated, like you’re the one being unreasonable and the way she looks so young while doing it makes you feel like you’re supposed to hold her close.
You don’t.
“You’ll wake up Yang and Blake if you start shouting,” she tells you softly, her tone much too light to actually carry any warning. “And Yang doesn’t like being woken up in the middle of the night.”
You make a noncommittal noise against her hand. She grins. You roll your eyes as you remove her hand against your lips, and she does something that surprises you. She takes your hand between both of hers and runs the pad of her left thumb against your knuckles.
“Your hand is clammy,” is all she says.
“Wha-”
“Bad dreams?”
She strokes your knuckles again and continues talking, not waiting for your answer; you feel relieved somewhat, not having to confirm it verbally but still.
“I have them too. It’s why I went out actually,” she pauses, like she’s measuring the words in her head -probably wondering which combination would make you less angry at her-, before she starts again. “I think I’ll be..No, I don’t think I can’t not go out some nights, Weiss.”
It sounds like an apology and a plea for you to understand what she’s really trying to say. It sounds like Please keep this a secret from Yang. She sounds lost and confused; she doesn’t sound like the Ruby you know.
You realize dimly that you actually know nothing about her.
You also realize it’s because you never really gave her a chance.
“Alright,” you say carefully, and you aren’t sure if you’re doing this for her sake or for yours but saying so makes you feel like you just carved out a piece of your soul and handed it to her.
Then you look at your joined hands, and squeeze hers softly. It earns you a smile.
She doesn’t ask you about your nightmare but she does ask in a quiet voice if she could sleep beside you tonight. You look at her with a raised eyebrow and she lets go of your hand to stare at her palms.
“I mean I just figured that since, you know, I had a nightmare and you had a nightmare,” Ruby says wringing her hands together nervously, “..we could like sleep beside each other? Dad said that sleeping beside someone helps in not getting nightmares and I kind of don’t want to sleep alone tonight? But if you don’t want to that’s okay. I mean it’s your bed and..”
She trails off, looking apologetic and moves to stand. You reach out and grab her wrist.
“Okay.”
“O-Okay?”
“Just for tonight. But not because I had a nightmare,” you add, stubbornly refusing to admit anything to her, “This is only because every time you climb into your bed I can practically hear the ropes about to snap and I don’t want to lose anymore sleep tonight out of fear of my impending doom by your bed, understand?”
“Sorry,” she says with a smile on her face. You kind of want to punch her.
Instead, you let go of her wrist and scoot to the side. She climbs gingerly into your bed and keeps a good distance between the two of you. She looks at you with an unsure smile, like you’re not actually serious about letting her sleep beside you, and that you’ll shove her off your bed in a few seconds. You roll your eyes at her and lie down, but not before adjusting the pillow so both of you can share it.
“You’ll fall of the bed if you’re too close to the edge,” you mutter before turning to face the wall.
The mattress moves beneath you when she lies down, much closer to you - just a hair’s width apart, maybe - and the warmth radiating from her body makes you feel safe for reasons you can’t comprehend.
“You smell nice. Err, your pillow smells nice,” Ruby says beside you. “Like snowdrops and soap.”
Heat blooms between your ribs, foreign and comforting. Only then do you notice that you’ve completely forgotten what your nightmare was about. You suppose it’s because of Ruby. You decide to humor her.
“What do snowdrops even smell like?”
“Hmm..they smell like spring,” she answers, “Clean and sweet like honey.”
The most you know at the moment is that your face feels very warm, and that your heart is resonating a clear high C. You don’t know if you should kick Ruby out of your bed or let her stay because of that. You feel thankful because this is the first time you’ve heard anybody compare you to spring, or anything not related to the nipping bite of cold winter; you feel embarrassed too, because this is a kind of compliment you’ve never gotten. You mean to tell her thank you but all that comes out is,
“Go to sleep you dolt.”
Ruby chuckles, “Goodnight, Weiss.”
“This is just for tonight.”
“Okay.”
You don’t have anymore nightmares.
-
Contrary to what you said, the number of times you share your bed with Ruby increases with startling alacrity.
She always wakes up before you do so Yang and Blake don’t catch both of you sleeping on the same bed but if they have their suspicions - they probably do, sometimes Ruby’s sheets look like they haven’t been touched in days - they keep it to themselves.
Ruby on the other hand, acts like she doesn’t come back to the dorm looking pensive on most nights, leaves and flower petals stuck to her hair; acts like she doesn’t shift closer to you in bed on others. Ruby acts like what happens past midnight happens on a different plane, another reality even, like she wants to keep the part of her that wolfs down cookies and swings around gun-scythes with pinpoint precision and playfulness separate from the part of her that shuffles to bed with you during the early morning hours.
It’s worrying.
It’s worrying and you understand why she does it.
-
Your life has a three point plan. There’s no need for you to think about anything; no planning about the future is really needed because being born as a Schnee guarantees you one already. It’s convenient and utterly restricting.
You think in commas because your parents insist on dotting your future with periods. What they want is a clean and direct route to you inheriting the company, no distractions, no diversions.
So, you attend Beacon.
It’s supposed to be a miracle in itself, that you managed to convince them to even allow you to study here no matter how much they don’t want you to. You expected to get in trouble, because your path isn’t at the right angle and it’s a hassle for both of them - “What if you become an utter delinquent?” - but mostly because they think that A Schnee gets what a Schnee wants, only applies to the adults. You smile and think that they should be proud instead; you’re wonderful at business talks. The company will be in good hands.
You think it’s all you’ll ever have.
-
Ruby leaves a posy of snowdrops on your pillow two months after she first slept beside you.
The flowers look delicate in your hands. You smell them and begin to pray away the locks around your heart. It doesn’t work at once but you feel the chains clink against each other and loosen.
You’re standing alone in the room but the silence doesn’t feel as lonely.
It’s progress.
-
One night you muster up the courage to face her.
“Ruby.”
Her eyelids flutter open and you’re looking at the kindest pair of eyes you’ve ever seen.
“Yes?”
The words are caught in your throat. This should be easy. You can’t believe you’ve forgotten how to talk right now. She looks at you worriedly.
“Weiss?”
You abandon all pretense of dignity you have, slip an arm around her waist and bury your face against her neck. She smells like roses, milk and sugar; she’s warm and soft and safe.
“I’ll listen,” you mutter against her collarbone. “I’ll listen if you want to tell me what makes you leave at night.”
You pause when she gently wraps her arm around you.
“But only if,” you fumble for words. “Only if you-if you’ll ask why I’m like this.”
It’s selfish of you, saying this to her, but some time ago you came to the realization that Ruby wouldn’t mind -she’s selfless, idiotic- even if your offer at opening up to her only means that you can’t shoulder your loneliness by yourself anymore.
She smiles against your hair, whispers Okay, and holds you tighter.
-
Ruby is alive in all the ways you aren’t.
Her heart beats in a steady rhythm that’s different from your own. She lives unbound by rules and does things without thinking them through properly. She’s a hazard in the battlefield; reckless and unpredictable, but her hits land and the trail of rose petals she leaves in her wake is beautiful in the zigzag swings of her scythe when it catches light.
She’s terrible in class and it nearly drives you insane. Your patience was not made for tutoring teenage girls who fall asleep in class and can only think of specialized weaponry. But you persist anyway. There’s something utterly gratifying when she aces an exam and shouts, “Look Weiss! I passed!”. And not just because your team won’t be in danger of failing.
She spills water on herself sometimes, bickers with her sister, and hoards books along with Blake until the floor of your dorm is practically a city of paperbacks and hardbounds. Sometimes she snores against your ear and you want nothing more than to push her out of your bed.
She tells you she loves you on the eve of your birthday. The papers in your hand shatter in your grip when they freeze solid.
-
Ruby loves you.
-
You want to kiss her.
-
You end up whacking her on the arm and storming off, completely red in the face, your heart feeling the lightest it’s ever been, a stupid smile plastered on your face.
-
When she walks into the dorm room alone you walk up to her and kiss her like it’s the one thing you’ve always wanted to do all your life.
Ruby’s lips are warm and soft against your own and it’s absolutely ridiculous how you feel like kissing her will be able to sustain you. She tastes like you deserve to be happy, and your heart swells with how much being with her makes you believe this is true.
You part and she smiles at you, all teeth and honest, innocent eyes.
“Hi.”
You feel inexplicably alive.