#apolian

[beyond-mogai-pride-flags]

MtF Vincian Pride Flag

MtF/M2F Vincian is a DMAB female or otherwise transfeminine gay man; transitioning from male to female while still considering yourself a gay man or a form of mlm.

While for some people MtF/M2F is a problematic terminology, it’s still useful for other folx to express something similar to transfem.

[ID: 7 stripes of dark teal, pale purple, cyan, pink, lighter pink, white pink and cyan. End ID] - Ap

[redmaneroster]

Our Home Away From Home, Away From Home

[1] [2] [3] [4-5] [6] [x] [8-9] [10]

PART 7 – Crustacean

They've been awake for at least an hour now, staring at the ceiling. It's dark all over, breached by apertures on the steel portal door of their room but the slits of light only cut into a broken ceiling fan and Yang's fingernail next to Jaune's ear.

Penny's voice comes muffled through the thick ceiling. Ruby's high-pitched cheers like distant whispers next to the megaphone voice of their android friend. They're all on a boat house for the sea and it's clear the girls are having a blast trying to steer the thing.

"They're having fun," Jaune says. He means nothing by it. Just an observation. Pointless conversation through the sleepy haze of a rocking ship. Jaune would have gotten sick were he not on a stable bed. He has pills for the motion sickness but they won't last him the entire trip. Sleep is the only way he can ration them.

Yang shifts over his arm and raises her hand, letting the light catch her nail again. It glistens like a solitary star off a cosmic trail. She giggles because the haze has caught onto her too and she's half-awake as it is. "He he, we could have fun too, y'know?"

He seizes, sitting up. "Y-Yang…?"

Yang does the same, huddling into a ball, clutching the comforter like it might shield her. "I-I meant by joining them! I didn't… I mean, I don't think I meant it that way…" Most of her is certain she didn't mean it like that but halfway through speaking, she wanted to take it back. She thinks she's ready, prepared to not freak out at the idea of exposing herself and seeing all of him. Her every uncertainty is truth, as honest as her apprehension to let him touch her.

She can barely see his face but his features soften in the dark, clearer when he gets closer. And for a moment it scares her to think he's taking that initiative. Her chest thumps like earthly tremors, cracking against her skin as it splinters like desert ground. Lips just as dry.

But he doesn't get any closer. He crouches next to her, facing away, but one of his hands reaches out for hers to close the rest of the distance. Her hands twitch when the warmth of his rolls over the back of her palm and hovers over her knuckles.

His hand stops and, instead, takes her fingers between two of his and a thumb. It's a gentle and quiet contact. He doesn't want to scare her. "I know you're having second thoughts," he says slowly, deliberately. As if knowing. Just like Saphron. "But how about we agree to do this when we're both one-hundred percent on it? Like when we have no doubt that this is how we take things going forward."

"Yeah… I think I'd like that." She clutches his hand fully now. Even shuffling closer. A warm breath tickles the hairs on his extended arm. "Look, I want it clear that it isn't you I'm apprehensive about. It's everything that comes after."

She can feel the heat of his blush from his hands alone.

"Uh… Yang, I hope I haven't somehow gotten you thinking I was going to do anything wild."

"No, no," she laughs, "nothing like that." She squeezes his hand and shuffles till her arm is flush against his. "I… I want kids."

"Um!" He tenses but doesn't let go of her as a sign of resolve.

"I don't mean now! Or anytime soon, I swear!" She lets him take a breath and unwind his rigid bones. "Really jumpstarted his heart, didn't I?" she thinks. Another squeeze from her, asking for courage he pours out of his sweaty palm.

"I'm afraid," she says finally, "of what comes after. If I don't try to stopgap how quickly things are going, sooner or later I'll have a kid of my own and I'll stare them in the face and… I'm worried that I'll be afraid. That, somehow, Mom running away would make sense."

He stares at her, eyes wide. "You called her mom."

An uncomfortable shiver runs down her neck and scrapes against her ribs. She shudders as she buries her head between her curled-up knees. "It's not about her. At least, I don't think so. I've caught myself calling her mom in my head when I think about it. Like I'm hoping I can still call myself a mother."

"That's a lot of thinking ahead, Yang. Who knows how long it'll even be till then."

She shrugs with a laugh that doesn't reach her eyes. "I've always been wired that way. I got a full life to live but I had to spend a lot of time prepping Ruby's future. If I don't prepare for the inevitable, I'll waste time trying to figure it out when it actually arrives."

"It doesn't sound like you're waiting to know if you'll be ready. Only that you worry if you'll ever be ready at all."

She nods, a touch of shame welling in her chest. "Is that bad?"

"I think it's human."

"That just tells me I could screw up like everyone else…"

"I like to think it means we're afraid of the same things."

Yang pulls her head out of her knees and blinks at him. Their hands are sweating and her nerves are mirrored on him too. She can see it on his face but it almost doesn't make sense. "Why?" she asks. "You'll make a great dad, Jaune. Hell, you'd make a great mom too!" She almost doesn't notice the little smile on her cheeks.

"Could say the same to you," he says, smiling again but there's a quiver in his hands. It's uncomfortably weak. "But it doesn't really matter that we think the world of each other. We'll probably mess up anyway. I may not share your fear of becoming like your mom but I'm every bit as afraid of not turning up like mine. My parents are storied huntsmen who raised eight proper kids. My grandparents before them were hard won veterans who were their children's heroes. That's a lot of legacy to live up to. And…" He makes a series of faces. All of them uncertain.

Her hand slides up his arm and the other knits between his fingers. Their heads lean onto each other before he speaks.

"Sometimes it feels like everything I'll ever do will be dwarfed by them. Short of saving the world and raising a dozen huntsmen–" Yang resists visibly wincing at the thought of raising twelve kids "–I'll never live up to them. And even if I do? I'm still not sure how to stop my kids from sharing the same fears…" He laughs. Not bitterly. There's a genuine hearty sound puffing out of his chest. "I think I know why Dad wanted me to be a doctor."

"Hm… Sounds like he was afraid of the same thing we are," she muses.

"I think so, too."

The sliver of light through the door passes them and, for a moment, the light is gone. The warmth and sweat of their hands are the only tangible things in the dark. And they cling to each other, summoning courage as fears drip away like melting ice.

"Jaune?" she asks.

"Yeah?"

"We should talk to your parents. I think there's a lot of easy-to-reach wisdom we aren't taking advantage of here." He's silent for a long second and Yang nearly calls him out until she notices the sheen of his scroll. "What are you doing?"

His Cheshire grin is mortifying under the pale glow. "Calling my folks."

"No! Stop!" she screeches, scrambling on top of him like a wild monkey. "I'm not ready! My hair's a mess!"

He pulls his hand away. "C'mon! They'll love you!"

"Can it, Arc! Sweet talking won't stop me!"

They wrestle for a while and Yang is so focused on getting his scroll that she forgets what she taught Jaune. They've wrestled in the past for training and something he's very broadly taken from those lessons has been going on the offensive. Tucking away his scroll, he manages to slink around her and grapple her arms.

"What? Hey!"

Trapping the length of her arms above her with his arm, he reaches around her with the other to grab his scroll. He pulls it up. It goes to call and the preview camera puts them both in view (strangely, like two floating heads from the dark).

With enough struggling, Yang knows she can break out even at a disadvantageous position, but the call answers quickly and she freezes up. Her awkward smile is automatic. Her panicked heart is full-auto.

"Hey, Mom, Dad! This is Yang, my girlfrie–" His mouth hangs open when their eyes meet in what can only be described as abject terror.

They hadn't exactly agreed on a label.

There's click from the scroll. "…And saved!" Jaune's mom sings. "Aren't you two cute."

-0-

They don't get a lot of answers. Jaune's parents, Apolian and Helia (she insists on Aunt Hess), tell them that this is the kind of discussion you have over dinner. Yang is promptly invited to see them over the Summer.

They do end up sharing stories, and by the end of it Yang feels confident that she's left a good first impression. Yet, by the time they walk into the morning light and find an empty spot together at the front deck, their nerves worm their way back in but for different reasons this time.

"So… labels. Yay," Yang cheers weakly against the railing.

"Yeah," Jaune drawls. "Fifteen percent off. This side up. Expires yesterday. Labels!" he cheers sarcastically, awkwardly. "Totally love 'em."

It's very easily something they can agree to discuss another time but it doesn't feel right doing so. Like it's not so big a deal that they can't hold off but not small enough to ignore for too long. Besides, people are going to ask questions (not that they haven't already) and just agreeing on something would work for a few more miles.

"Y'know, it's funny," Yang says, "I was fully prepared to just be boyfriend and girlfriend when this all started. Now that I've got clarity, I'm starting to wonder if we're even pacing ourselves right as friends."

Jaune hums agreeably. "But maybe we've worried so much about the pace that we've forgotten if it even matters… I mean, so what if things are going too fast? What should matter is if we want it or not."

"Do you want it?" she asks.

He shrugs. "I guess I don't mind telling everyone we're dating. And exclusive. But what are we if not that by definition? What's the difference with that and being an item?"

She sighs, pivoting around to lean her back against the railing instead. "What if the label's pointless to begin with? It just sums up what we are for other people. Like you said, it should only really matter to us."

"Maybe that's just it. The label isn't important to us and so it's only for them. If all they're asking is to sum up what we are, then we should just pick a label that answers enough questions and any nuance we need we can keep to ourselves."

"Yeah, we don't have change to fit it, even. We'll just be the way we are."

But the uncomfortable question of what they even are lingers between them. Not a label, per se. Perhaps a name truly is pointless, but what does it mean to be what they are?

When their hands meet in the middle, there's an air of comfort, a touch of romance. A quiet laugh and a knowing smile. They balk at the smell of salty sea air, laugh at the antics of an excitable Penny, gossip at some friends huddled a little too close. It's all friendly, familiar. Uncomplicated.

They decide that quantifying it is either too hard or actually impossible. And a quiet ambivalence washes over them – stinging and uncertain – and figuring it out will take a lot of testing.

-0-

It was supposed to be a little solitary date but Sun knows a guy with a boat house and Pyrrha has a sponsorship with an outdoor grill you can take to the beach (the sponsor feels that a photoshoot on the deck of a ship is an inspired take). The fact that there's a small, unfamiliar crew onboard is a little concerning but they're largely invisible and stay out of the way. Though Sun and Pyrrha have made it a game to hide away from them.

Yang has started wearing a red wig to throw them off and, stood next to Jaune who is a muscular blonde, from behind he can pull off looking like Sun at a glance. Most of the crew is understanding and they have a few good laughs.

Yang muses that she might look good as a redhead and posits to Jaune that she might dye her hair down the line.

"And here I thought those locks were sacred."

"Yeah, I don't think they can stop being immaculate," she says as she twirls in front of a mirror, trying to get a good look of it down her back. "Red's sufficiently bright. Maybe…"

"Well, bright colors will match your eyes," Jaune says sat across from her in a half-zipped wetsuit, "but I don't see you having many options with hair that long. You gotta get a hairdresser to cover all that thickness. You're gonna mess up trying to do it yourself."

Yang chews the thought like she does her lip. "I guess I could just cut it."

Jaune blinks at her. "I'm not the most religious man but even that sounds blasphemous."

"Heh. I might've thought the same thing last year."

"What changed?"

She bundles her hair in her hands, draping it over her shoulder. "I inherited my hair from my mom, but it's something I took and made my own. I took pride in that, but nowadays that just feels… petty. I mean, I still take pride in taking care of it, but I've started to come around to the idea that I could just like however I look as long as that choice is my own. Even if I end up looking ridiculous for a semester."

He comes up behind her, eying himself in the mirror. "Okay, but only if you let me do the same."

"Dye your hair?"

"Yeah, to match yours. Maybe I'll even grow mine out. Always wanted to try a wolf-tail." He turns his head and bunches up a few of his locks. It's not enough for a full tail since much of the length is lost in his fist, but Yang can kind of see it working.

But red?

"I can't put you through that."

"But you won't be," he says matter-of-factly, "I'll be putting myself through that. So, if I choose to stand behind you by experimenting with my hair the same way, that'll be my choice."

She sighs and backs up into his chest. "Why do you keep cheating? You know I can't argue with that kind of logic. And you'll just end up looking ridiculous by the end."

"At least I'll look like the bigger fool."

"Jaune…"

"I'm used to it," he maintains evenly, sternly. "I'm glad people don't look down on me anymore but being with me means you have to live with the fact that I'm still every bit that little spaz who threw up on your boots. Which I'm glad you forgave me for, by the way. Real quick on that too."

"Heh, well, my temper's never been about my style. An unfortunate dork just gets pity, and even a mild jerk might just get a glare. It's mostly about my pride. I worked hard on my hair back in freshmen year and… I hated losing. I mean, god damn does Yatsu hit hard. I guarantee that I'll start seeing red again if I get a repeat of last year's Vytal."

"You're competing again this year?"

She gives him gigawatt grin. "JNPR didn't need to compete but you all did anyway. If Jaune Arc can stand on international television despite obvious odds and harbor an unnecessary need to feel like he's somehow a burden, what's Yang Xiao Long to do but follow his example and beat her own demons to death?"

His cheeks are a touch red and she gives him the small mercy of not pointing it out. "I guess I can't argue with that either," he says.

Yang pushes off him and raises one hand while pressing the other against her chest before she announces before him, "I swear mercy upon my hair, that you might see fit to show mercy on yours."

"Even if things go horribly wrong and I decide that the only way to one-up you is to grow a mullet?"

She snorts. "I will shave you bald in your sleep, and don't think for a second that I won't do that."

They're laughing and he rolls his eyes but he's certain she'll make good on if it comes to that. "C'mon, we've spent enough time not getting ready. They're probably already in the water."

She helps him with his zipper. "Blake's probably already caught one," she says. There's an excited tingle that runs through her spine. "Now I've got an itch. Wanna see if we can catch more than she can?"

"Both of us against her?"

"She used to dive for clams with her dad. No gear either. Two against one is only fair."

They still lose to her, and they're not even in second place. Sun has been diving for seafood since he was kid.

They manage over two dozen lobsters and a handful of crabs, and unanimously agree not to boil the poor things alive. Still, they mess up a few times cause no one actually knows how to cook lobster even with Penny's encyclopedic knowledge but they manage a lovely dinner eventually with a few failed attempts.

Neptune and Weiss disappear at some point only to be stumbled upon below deck. They'd been drinking. Everyone respects their privacy and don't ask why.

-0-

Nora interjects on a Tuesday team meeting that – now that it's public that Jaune and Yang are basically a couple – people both see it and don't see it.

Jaune is confused for long enough to just outright ask what she's talking about.

Sometimes people will catch them getting a little close in the halls (they're starting to notice the stares), but they're not always together and you wouldn't have noticed that something was up if you didn't already know. They sit next to each other all the time but are frequently talking to the rest of their teams (there was rumor that Jaune was secretly dating Ruby after they laughed out loud during class a few times). Witnesses spot them boarding bullheads to Vale around the weekends but are as frequently found shopping for groceries, ammo, inspecting ingots, and once even at a car dealership (and they're surprised how most of the things they do together could only be classified as dates if you squint hard enough and pretend they're doing anything else).

They're never caught holding hands. The one kiss was even on the cheek and some people still believe they were seeing things altogether. It almost feels like fiction or outlandish gossip. Not because it's them, but because no one saw it coming and people are still refusing to trust their eyes.

Yang thinks it's hilarious. Jaune thinks they need to clarify things before they get awkward. Yang was already propositioned after she lied about there being nothing between them. Lies are only going to complicate things.

So, in that moment they decide, "We're a couple."

Sure. Fine. Give them a label when they ask but they aren't changing anything else. They'd already agreed on it anyway. Still, the societal pressure to look the part just didn't vibe with them and they hope the label is the last thing they ever give into outside of themselves.

-0-

They find out two things on the last week before the semestral break, the one they'll mostly spend in Patch with Yang's parents.

One, that lobster needs to be preserved damp and freezing with salt water. Fresh water off the tap ruins their last reserve crustacean. Shame. Guess they'll have to plan another boat trip.

And two, that – at least according to the crusty boatman – lobsters don't stop growing. They get bigger and bigger until they've outgrown their own shells. So, they shed it and grow a new one. Then, eventually, they outgrow that shell, too, and start the process over and over again until we find them, crack them open, and feast on their delicious insides…

The boatman forgets his own metaphor in the reverie of polishing off the last of his meal, plucking his lips over the last delicate morsels.

He tells them all, then, that the price of growth is to constantly find that what was once familiar will inevitably feel alien. That everything about you and around you will change, and adaptation is not only what makes it survivable, but it also keeps you sane.

When they think he's done, he coughs, wheezes, then speaks again.

You should always look out for the in-between, he says with a serious look in his eye. Thing is, after shedding their shell, lobsters have to spend their meantime being vulnerable. Squishy, ugly little things, he emphasizes with gusto.

Transitions in your life will be like that, often terrifying and tumultuous, and the scary part is that your worries doesn't stop there. You have to be careful about who you become when you come out the other end. That it's not only hard to make the transition, that your choices in that change will determine who you are moving forward.

A lobster will come out wrong if something unexpected happens in the middle of molting. Might grow another claw or bulge out somewhere uncomfortably. But the boatman, rather optimistically, says a lobster has the option to cut off an offending part of them and regrow it. It'll take a while though. Years even, but correcting your character is never as easily solved with an apology or an act of will.

Because you'll never undo your mistakes. You can only make things right. And sometimes you can only do that little by little.

For a moment, Yang thinks of Raven.

-0-

It's when they're out by the pier to try an egg sandwich that Yang is thinking about lobsters and metaphors. "So, what happens after the apartment?" she asks. "After Beacon?"

"I don't know," he shrugs. "I haven't thought that far ahead." Except he has, but it's all substitutions. He used to think of a future with Terra, but now Yang has replaced all those naïve, boyish dreams with a series of blonde heads bouncing on a couch. Still, these are fragmentary thoughts, and he doesn't think Yang would like it if he tried for the civilian life. No, right now – and for the past week – he's been trying to see where that future is now with Yang instead. "We should pair off, by the way."

"Uh, haven't we already?"

"I mean when we go hunting. I know you're only supposed to pair off with your own team but I don't see JNPR and RWBY splitting up… ever. I think we should get a head start."

"Okay, future proofing. Sounds like your next report for Leadership." It is, and Yang helps him figure out his bullet points while they chew thoughtfully on their egg sandwiches (it's really eighty-percent meat and cheese but it's got an egg inside and on top so it gets the name).

They talk about the car they're looking for. Jaune's racetrack savvy sister, Sable, it still swearing up and down about the Highway Aries being an ideal match. Yang still insists on a bike.

When they're packing up and driving home, Yang talks about her "cousin" Vernal and her estranged bedmate Shay. Jaune adds that he has cousins he doesn't remember because seven sisters are enough, he doesn't need to add another eight. (Yang reels at the idea of so many blondes at a single family gathering and those are just the grandkids).

When they're home they talk about another trip out to sea and inevitably segway back into lobsters.

Sitting on the couch, she's thinking about her future. Jaune plops next to her and laughs about something Ruby sends him on his scroll.

Yang's ignoring her messages from Nora – she's staring at her scroll on the coffee table and it buzzes but she can't register what's happening – and suddenly she blurts, "Hey, I know this is a ways off and I probably shouldn't be something you talk about it at eighteen in the middle of academy training but… if we get a girl, can we name her Summer?" There's no embarrassment blooming off her cheeks. Her face is completely neutral, and her eyes are searching for a response in his wide, vacant stare.

His typing hasn't stopped, only slowed. "…"

"Jaune?"

He sighs, and it's long and beaten like he's preparing himself for self-destruction. "Only if we agree to name our son…" he swallows uncomfortably. "…uh, Qrow?"

She's aghast, mouth opening and closing. "Did… did you lose a bet or something?"

He kisses her – his way of saying yes – but it's not cute this time. It's sad and piteous and his eyes scream an apology his lungs are strangling him not to say for fear of combusting in what is already volcanic embarrassment.

"Win the bet," she says sternly.

"What? But I already lost!"

"Then double or nothing! Short of him kicking the ever living fuck out of the bucket, I am not naming my son after my uncle." After his furious nodding, she summons a tiny strength in her lungs to speak, but not enough to look him in the eye. "So, you, uh, didn't answer my question."

The clatter of his flask on the coffee table almost scares her, but she can see that he isn't drinking at the thought of Terra. This time it's just about Qrow. It makes her feel less afraid. When he answers, there is no burden in his tone caused he'd downed his nerves in quarter-parts whiskey. "I'll agree to Summer if you let me name our next daughter Agrippa."

"Oh? Why?"

"Was set on it when I was kid. This was before Pyrrha, before Terra, even. I just remember crying at home during a storm. My bedroom door was stuck cause of a leak – y'know, cause water inflates wood – and no one could hear me call out to them under all the rain drumming the roof. I was soaking wet cause the leak got onto my sheets. Stupid thing was, I wasn't even afraid of getting sick or if my small boy body would get hypothermia. I just had a sleepover at a friend's place the morning after and I didn't want to miss it. Then, out of nowhere and probably from a fevered haze, I see a guardian angel or – as my sisters called it – an imaginary friend."

He pauses to look at her, to check if she thinks he's crazy. She doesn't. Yang doesn't judge. She listens.

"It was a girl just a head taller than mine," he continues. "The dark made her hair look brown or a dull red, so I can't recall that for sure but I remember her eyes. They were blue, like mine, only brighter. She said her name was Gri, short for Agrippa. She saw that I was cold and she knelt to my level and hugged me. Her body felt warm, but too warm like the way your hands might after holding freshly brewed coffee. I didn't notice I was dry until I was laid in an equally dry bed and already falling asleep."

She doesn't ask if he thought it a dream. "You weren't afraid?" she asks instead.

He shakes his head. "I just assumed she was someone from the neighborhood I neglected to meet. My hometown, Clove, is a community of retired huntsmen surrounded by their farmlands, and everyone outside of it knew not to mess with huntsman families. If anything, we kept giving passersby the spooks. Cause of that, I was taught to be friendly, not wary of strangers."

"Hm," she sounds thoughtfully. "That explains a few things, actually."

"Really? Like what?"

"Well, just one thing. Ruby told me how you two met. You told her that strangers are just friends you haven't met yet. Thought you might've even been a little sketchy until I saw you myself. Seemed like the kind of guy who'd meet her in the middle. Vomit and all."

"Heh, I'm glad we hit it off. Ruby's a good friend."

"She makes a better sister," she says, winking.

"I suppose I'll find that out eventually, huh?" He gives her a suggestive grin.

"Eh?"

His grin drops. "Y'know, cause she'll be my sister-in-law if we…" He rolls his hands.

"Uh… Oh. Oh! You were flirting! Damn it, I missed my chance!'

He laughs because she seems genuinely upset. She decides that pouting is for suckers and proceeds to bite his neck. This time he bites back.

-0-

They wake up with the hickeys still on their necks and they opt to leave it there for all to see. The reactions from their peers at Beacon are interesting, and they take it as sufficient proof enough for everyone that they're an item. No one bothers asking about them after that.

When the week comes to an end, Pyrrha promises that they can pay her back for covering for the car's down payment and that – by the time they get back from Patch – that it'll be in the apartment's designated parking spot. Only slightly used cause, of course, she's going to cruise in it with Sun when he flies back to the city tomorrow.

They're surprised when Jaune and not Yang is the one that makes them vow to clean the stains. Yang is very proud of him.

On the pier, they hug their friends goodbye and Ruby promises to catch up once she's done meeting someone important from Mistral as per the headmaster's instruction. She says she can't tell them why she's nervous. They don't pry and tell her they'll listen when she's ready.

Jaune, also, promises not to look at her baby pictures (until she's there, he doesn't say).

Once they're in transit on the ferry, he tries to straighten out a crease in Yang's leather jacket. The shard of fire dust in a cup of water is his attempt to steam it straight. He spends the time talking about his mom's home remedies and his dad's jury rigging. She answers with talk of Summer's garden that her dad and uncle tend to. He scoffs at the idea of Qrow gardening but admits that it makes sense.

With Jaune busying himself, Yang wonders if things will stay this way. If all they have to worry about is down payments, creases, spoiled lobsters, and baby names. That all the big problems, like her mother's abandonment and his actual, biological son, might rear themselves instead and come back to haunt them in devastating ways. But just before any doubt sinks in, he holds her hand from his perch on the floor. He kisses her knee and eyes her from over her lap.

"Whatever it is," he says, squinting. Thinking of what else to add but settles with, "It doesn't matter whatever it is…"

She is prepared to eat up anything he offers. That he'll be there for her, that they'll work it out somehow, that he'll banish any ill thought or doubt, but he says none of those things. Instead, he leans up and kisses her – tender and brief – on the lips.

She blinks. "What are you saying yes to this time?" She's so bewildered that she doesn't even know why she asks such a thing.

"You," he answers anyway. "All of you. I can't fix everything and I can't right every wrong, but I'll take you as you are, or whatever you'll become. Even if you're in pieces. Even if you stop loving me. I don't have be your boyfriend to be with you every step of the way."

It's clear, then, that Jaune's been dealing with doubts of his own. Yang swallows as things bubble to the surface before she blinks a few times and…

"I love you," she says, and she realizes that it's the first time she has said it.

-0-

Down the line, she remembers this moment most vividly of her trip to Patch that one Autumn afternoon. The uncomfortable smell of sea water and steam off a heated cup, the rock of the ferry that forces Jaune to swallow a pill and drops a dozen more just to stop from hurling, and the way her shorts nearly catch fire from the dust shard spilling onto her lap.

Cause then he's stable and she's got a change of clothes (the small fire charred the color in an uncomfortable spot), and they try for the overpriced food court a floor above to mask the smell of all the water in almost lousy, reheated pizza.

The boatman told them that change is tumultuous, and that screwing up in the middle of growing their new shell is almost inevitable. Maybe they won't fit quite so well in their new shell, and maybe they'll take a few cuts and scrapes before they settle comfortably in their own skin, and maybe an old wound might not quite go away and leave them vulnerable there forever…

…but even if so, they decide – after a toast with pizza that tastes like the box it came in – that they'll always have these beautiful little imperfections, and that they can be ugly, squishy lobsters together.

[beyond-mogai-pride-flags]

I always question myself the same, since "gay" in my first language does not apply to women and is a single word that does not need to mention man, this is epicene in English. I see people feeling neutral with gayguy and gaydude labels, but some people not.

The word homić kinda seemed a neolabel but then I found it means gay man in Serbo-Croatian. Homo means man or human, however hom(o)- prefix means same, homic mixes both things into one. Curiously Finnish has a word called homomies, -mies meaning men.

Uranien (Uranian or Ouranian) used to mean homosexual males, not sure it applies. Viranian would be better specific since vir- has to do with m-gender. Check apollian/apollonian, achillean and vincian.

While that's not monolexically what you want, achillegender (apolliagender or vinciagender) describes this identity experience, similar to orientationgender but not the same.

And there was a term called virescin, the coiner asked people to stop using it, but I find it cool and useful for situations like this, describing being gay for men while not essentially being man. It could be virescian alluding vincian.

I hope this helps. Followers can help - Ap

[redmaneroster]

Our Home Away From Home, Away From Home

[1] [x] [3] [4-5] [6] [7] [8-9] [10]

PART 2 – Adhesion

It’s the second year at Beacon and the rest of the juniors are out by the cliffs watching freshmen start their initiation by being hurled into the woods at a speed that would break normal people’s necks.

Weiss wants to scope out the competition to see if they’ll have any favorable opponents for the Vytal festival. They’re competing this year again too and she aims to win.

Yang arrives a little later than the rest since she spent much of the night before unpacking.

On instinct she moves to sit next to Jaune but then he laughs at something Pyrrha says and she almost doesn’t. Almost. She plops down anyway and asks what’s up. Turns out, another student was launched screaming through the sky just like Jaune was.

He decides then to make an announcement. Then promptly shuts his mouth. He wants to keep it a surprise. Ruby bugs him to say it anyway but he holds his tongue.

Yang can tell Pyrrha already knows and its clear Ren has an inkling. (Nora’s poker face is so legendary that nothing can be read). It’s another thing Yang doesn’t know about Jaune.

-0-

Ruby has taken to decorating their room. She strings lights across the ceiling, sets table cloths on their nightstands, lays a carpet in the middle of the room, and smatters the walls with pictures of them and their adventures. It feels a little more like home and Weiss doesn’t fuss about how scattered it all looks.

Yang can’t help but fixate on one photo tucked into the corner of the room.

The two teams are huddled together, but on the far side is Jaune and Pyrrha. Cheeks pressed together and their hands – unseen in the photo – are clutched together behind them. They were in love then, she tells herself, even if the word love is so ambiguous at this point that it makes her irritable.

Maybe one day she’ll convince herself he’s okay and that he has nothing to hide. At least from her.

“Going for a walk,” she announces to the busyness of the room.

The clatter of Blake’s book follows after her as she plunges into the noise of the hallway.

Blake walks with her without a word because the halls are filled with so many voices behind the hundred closed doors and any one of them could be listening in. It still, somehow, feels uncomfortably quiet.

They sit at the garden just out by the dorm and Blake asks her what’s on her mind.

Yang says that it’s not worth mentioning. A petty, tiny thing that she’ll get over in a day and that it’s silly she’s even worrying about it.

Blake tells her that it can be silly if she’s worrying about it. Just because the world has bigger problems doesn’t mean she should feel ashamed for feeling what she feels. Some things – she says slowly, empathically – are beyond our control. Even in ourselves.

Blake’s smile isn’t real. Yang catches the self-defeat hiding in the too wide look in her eyes.

Not wanting to let Blake wallow in her own torments amidst the silence, Yang confesses that she’s gotten to really know Jaune for the better part of a month. She says she’s his friend but believes that she barely qualifies. She doesn’t really know the real Jaune Arc.

“What’s the first thing he does in the morning?” Blake asks.

“Uh… cook breakfast, water the cactus, play death metal at my door so I wake up to set the table.”

“He has a cactus?”

“Don’t ask me to explain. It’s a long story.”

Blake explains that despite her little courtship triangle with Sun and Ilia over the summer, she couldn’t answer the question herself. If anything, they know more about each other than she does them. When it was happening, she tried to memorize everything on the surface. Music tastes, favorite food, books they’ve read (they didn’t have many. They’re movie buffs), but one time the two of them were arguing and Ilia let slip that Sun was a virgin, and Sun returned fire by reminding her that so was she.

Blake didn’t know any of that, but they told each other in confidence somehow.

It was no surprise that they called things off a month before school started. She even overheard Sun setting Ilia up with a close friend of his, and Ilia’s been behind him and Pyrrha ever since.

Yang tells her that it doesn’t mean she didn’t get to know them or get closer.

Blake smiles, brightly with a ghost of a chuckle rumbling from her lips. “Yeah, that’s what I mean.” Blake may not have gotten to know them as well as they did with each other, but who can say who is closer to who. Does that kind of comparison even matter?

The bottom line is that they care about each other. It’ll take some time to get to know them but love isn’t a quantity set with knowing what someone says or does. Those are things that make it easier, but love of any kind has only one requirement: a willingness to give something selflessly.

Yang is surprised by that and admits, rather somberly, that she hasn’t done that yet.

“What are you talking about? You did.”

Blake explains that – for the most part – people give things to those they care about without really knowing it. You listen to them talk so you lend them your ear, you eat where they want to eat so you give them your time, you say something nice, you crack a joke, and sometimes, just sometimes, you sit there and be whatever they need. The sacrifice is often tiny, but you’re still giving for their benefit.

And sometimes these connections go at a different pace, she says. Like her with Sun and Ilia, them to each other, Yang with herself, and Yang with Jaune. That doesn’t mean they’re any more or less valuable.

So maybe it isn’t so bad that she’s still getting to know him, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t friends.

-0-

At lunch, everyone seats themselves around a blonde in a hoodie, snoozing with the hood pulled up. Minutes later, Jaune shows up and they all stare wide-eyed at the mysterious blonde they converged around. Jaune’s surprise, apparently, is that his twin sister, Joan, is attending Beacon with her team.

Yang realizes that Jaune hasn’t been wearing his hoodie.

Joan calls it the “elder hoodie,” because no one knows who was born first so they trade the hoodie depending on who the eldest is supposed to be at the time. Since he stole it for a year, she’s keeping it till they finish being sophomores. Everyone’s just going to have to get used to him without it for a while.

Nora says he should stop putting it on altogether cause his muscles are showing. Joan takes a quick look at her chest – undefined in the oversized cloth – and quickly takes it off and tries to give it back to him. They fight over it until Yang snatches it for herself.

The twins are momentarily embarrassed until she says, “Okay! I’m the eldest now.”

Joan decides that Yang makes a great big sister. No one tells her that Yang’s three months younger.

-0-

It’s Friday after class and Yang shouldn’t be surprised that Joan muscles into the apartment. She doesn’t take the couch either. Joan and Jaune shared a bed so often that she decided that bunking with him was evidently the logical conclusion.

Joan cooks soup for dinner. It has banana slices in it. It reminds them of home.

Yang wakes up on Saturday morning to find Jaune sat on the couch in a towel; shampoo still in his hair. Joan woke up grumpy (he doesn’t mention the teary-eyed look) and kicked him out of the bedroom so she could shower and change without him seeing. Yang doesn’t like this, but Jaune tells her not to get mad at her.

He explains that, even though he reconciled with his parents, it didn’t go so smoothly with his sisters. Joan especially. Had she known he was running away to Beacon, she’d have followed after him. He didn’t want to risk her future for the same shot in the dark as his.

Still, she’s upset cause she spent a year worrying about him and being petty for one morning is hardly the worst she could do.

“And what if she does this again?” she asks, arms crossed.

“She won’t,” he says swiftly, an affection to his eyes that tells her that he knows his twin sister as well as he does himself.

Joan is probably hating herself for kicking him out in the first place, and will come out apologizing for it. Cause she’s eighteen and things should have been okay now. No sense in dragging things along.

Yang offers her bathroom for him to finish. She resists innuendo. He catches it anyway. They laugh.

“I’ll get some soap from my closet real quick.”

“Dude, use mine. I don’t care.”

As predicted, Joan comes out into the living room looking sheepish. She asks where Jaune is. Yang instead offers to talk.

With a hesitant step, she sits down with her.

Joan tells her about how things went down at home. She spent a lot of time defending Jaune, saying he’d come back soon. It was only a week before even she seriously doubted he’d come back safe. They feared the worst until Jaune called Saphron at the height of his guilt to explain that he’s fine and that he got accepted into Beacon. A week later, he calls again and tells them about his team.

When they heard they were both nice and competent, they left him alone until he was ready to come back.

They knew they had to trust him and their dad, Apolian, admitted that he should have tried to prepare him instead of pushing him to pursue medicine like a civilian.

Good things did come out of it though. Joan got training like she wanted and she got registered with a local team. It was too late to enroll for freshman year but their accolades qualified them as sophomores. She didn’t want to stay in the field though. She wanted the academy experience.

It’s thirty minutes later after an anecdote about one of her teammates, that they realize that Jaune’s already starting breakfast. (He still had some of his spare clothes in Yang’s closet. It did use to be his).

He’s happy they’re getting along.

Joan is sorry she was being petty.

He’s sorry he ran away without telling her.

Apologies go back and forth until it ends abruptly. Yang almost envies the speed in which they hash things out.

They spend the day together.

Joan took the same guitar lessons as Jaune. They’re both terrible at singing. So is Yang. The neighbors hate it. Then they make plans to buy amps.

The afternoon is a blur of stalls and dust shops. Sugar and music. Noises and laughter. Joan is still fresh into the city life and Yang feels like she could take her under her wing. She even has an interest in getting a bike.

Yang shows Joan the Club. Junior is amicable with there now being two Arcs who will keep her on the dance floor instead of the bar.

There’s a moment where Yang and Joan are talking between themselves. In that time, Jaune thinks to himself for a minute too long and he reaches for his flask to ease the torments swirling in his mind. Yang takes his hand. She noticed. With a smile small enough to be honest and pleading, she leads him out of the booth and into the dance floor.

Joan watches the way they look at each other.

“Huh.”

She snaps a picture.

-0-

So much happened the day before that Yang almost gets whiplash when it’s just her and Jaune again. It’s blistering hot outside so they decide to make milkshakes.

Yang goes on a tirade about why Jaune should just buy a bike instead of saving up for a car. Jaune insists on getting a Highway Aries his sister Sable vowed was safe and sturdy. They’re so distracted by the conversation that someone forgets to lid the blender.

The mishap is explosive, and they’re both covered in stray milk and sugar. They take a picture and laugh it off. It’s another memory – they decide – that would be timeless.

After getting changed, they get the idea to get a “before and after” shot. Since they couldn’t take a before shot, they take one now and pretend that it is since the kitchen’s all cleaned.

They try with the milkshakes again, remembering to have the lid closed, and after smothering each in whipped cream, they’re sat at the TV, streaming an old film they saw as kids.

Their scrolls buzz.

Everyone saw the photos.

Ren asks why their clothes are different in both shots.

Nora sends a winky face.

Joan rants about how she leaves them for one day and they’re already messing around.

Weiss rants about their lack of propriety.

Jaune is static as he stares at the continued outburst from the rest of their friends just because Ren had to question the logic and Nora had to take it that way. Before he types down an explanation, Yang stops him. She takes another photo, milkshakes in hand, and captions it.

“Come join us next time. Let’s make it a party.” Everyone who isn’t Weiss knows the party is genuine. Weiss struggles to even say “orgy” and, somehow, “preposterous.”

Jaune takes pity on her and asks Neptune to explain that it’s a joke. Somehow realizing she misread the whole thing makes Weiss feel even more embarrassed.

Yang is very satisfied with the outcome.

Sat quietly together, their movie drones on and they forget that milkshakes aren’t exactly coffee. Their drowsiness straps weights to their eyelids. Haphazard jokes that mean nothing and make no sense are the only attempt at staying awake.

Joan slips into the living room cause she forgot something. She finds Jaune cleaning glasses while Yang slumbers on the couch.

“No luck?” she asks.

“Didn’t even try,” he answers.

“Maybe you should.”

“Maybe I’ll screw up again.”

“Maybe you won’t.”

“Maybe it’s safer –” he pushes a tiny strongbox into her hands, “–that I don’t.”

Despite herself, Joan doesn’t pry. She hugs him instead and makes for the door. Before she leaves, she peeks through the crack in the door and sees Jaune staring at Yang. Temptation twitches at his fingers. He goes for his flask.

Joan gets an idea.

-0-

Joan skips class Monday morning. She sneaks into the apartment and waters down Jaune’s whiskey.

She doesn’t know if it’s wise. It might even end poorly, but it might turn out precisely how it should. Jaune already hardly notices the taste, and this won’t feel much different.

A week passes and nothing happens. That is until Joan is sitting with Ruby on Sunday. The weekend before, they went to the dock to indulge in the carnival.

Joan is, at first, not surprised to hear that Jaune and Yang disappeared somewhere towards the end.

Then, it turns out, Yang came back to the dorm really late with a bruised lip. She was also missing her jacket.

Jaune walks into the cafeteria with band aid on his neck. They already know he’s hiding a hickey.

Ruby makes a demand: as his best friend, she wants to know what he did with her sister. Her and Joan look up at him expectantly.

“Fine,” he groans, “but this stays between us.”