Yang wakes up with the sunrise. Gentle light on her face, birds chirping near the open window, delicate breeze blowing on the curtains with fresh air. She lies here for a while, immobile, still riding the last waves of sleep. She feels good. She feels whole. Finally, she sits against the bed frame. The sheets fall off her stomach and onto the floor, revealing her naked body. She smiles. Even more when her gaze drifts on the woman soundly asleep next to her, bare skin glowing under the first rosy rays of dawn.
She can’t believe it. Her, there. Her, staying.
She brushes her fingertip on Blake’s shoulder, careful not to wake her. She needs to touch her, to feel her, even so lightly. But, as gentle as she is, Yang stirs her from sleep, and Blake quietly hums before rolling on the bed and settling into Yang’s arms.
“Is it time already?” she slurs, voice heavy with sleep.
“No,” Yang whispers. An intoxicating scent of jasmine drapes her. She’ll never grow tired of it. She sets a delicate hand on Blake’s head and caresses her hair. “Go back to sleep.” Within a few seconds, Blake’s breath returns into a slow and deep rhythm, and Yang’s last words get lost into the quietude of the room.
“I’ll watch over you.”
They say their goodbyes to Rio. But despite the fact that she spent the best days of the last few years here, Blake can only look forward. Today is their first day. Her first day. Today, she comes back strong and ready. Today, she stops hiding.
They spend the whole flight snuggling together and watching the landscapes through the window. This time, no cabin crew member dares to bother them.
They go directly to the newspaper’s headquarters. They have to report to Weiss, and Yang wonders if their friend will notice. That they’re different. That while they were out there, in Rio de Janeiro, they both found a home.
They walk into the open space leading to Weiss’s office and Blake immediately spots Ilia and Sun, both leaning over the same telephone receiver, arguing with the person at the other end of the line. Oh, to be back at the office. But it warms her heart. She likes it here. She owes it to Weiss. She owes it to Ilia and Sun. Her gaze lingers and a small smile stretches her lips. It’s time, she thinks. It’s time she explained.
Blake pulls out her phone and writes a single text to the three of them.
Hey guys, up for dinner tomorrow at my place? I need to tell you something about Adam.
Weiss’s office is exactly as Yang remembers, except for the rainbow flag proudly hanging on the wall behind her desk.
“Damn! I knew I turned her gay, but not that gay!”
Blake chuckles and sits on one of the two chairs facing the desk. “Wait until she finds out about me.”
“Sorry, the meeting dragged longer than I exp—” Weiss halts in the middle of the room, eyes darting from the two girls’ faces to the fingers they hastily, but not hastily enough, untangled. “What was that?”
“Well, hello to you too, dear old friend!” Yang chirps, as natural and confident as ever, while Blake nervously tucks a lock of hair behind her ear.
“Don’t ‘dear old friend' me, what was that?” Weiss squints, eyes meticulously scanning their expression and body language. She looks from one girl to the other, from Yang’s arrogant grin to Blake’s pinched lips, and slowly, very slowly, she walks towards her desk and sits on her chair. “No fucking way.”
They don’t talk about work. Not even for one second. Weiss keeps demanding details and details, keeps shrieking “Not that much details!”, keeps pacing up and down into her office like a caged lion. She mumbles some distinct phrases amongst indistinct groans. “I should have known.” “How did I not see it coming.” “I can’t believe we shared Yang!” “God, you two make so much sense.” “And you! You have to stop turning girls gay!”
And Yang laughs, and laughs, and really, she’s the happiest woman on earth.
Weiss has finally calmed down. The three of them are quietly sitting in her office, and Blake is struggling with her emotions. Because she’s so grateful. For Yang, for Weiss, for life. For the way a light thumb is gently brushing her palm, for the way icy eyes keep melting each time they meet hers and read the happiness swirling within. But, of course, Weiss doesn’t let her tender side show for too long. She straightens up against her seat and, suddenly, her aura once more screams “CEO of one of the most powerful newspapers of the country”.
“You two owe me a wedding,” she states, voice even, and Blake could not have seen that one coming.
“What?” Yang stares at Weiss with incredulous eyes.
“You met because of me. You owe me a wedding.”
Blake snorts. “Weiss, we’re dating, not married.” She bites back her stupid smile at the word, dating, and she hopes Weiss will let it go—because Weiss noticed, Weiss always notices—.
“Oh, please,” the Schnee heiress grunts. “I can feel it in my bones. You two are so easy to read. I know exactly how it’s all going to play out. Yang will be the first to blurt out ‘I love you’, and she’ll be so surprised she said it she’ll laugh like the stupid dork she is.”
“And Blake will be the one to propose, because she’s overly sentimental and she’ll want to call you her wife as soon as possible.”
“I beg your pard—”
“You two will get married on a sunny Sunday, with family and close friends, and you’ll both say some nauseating sappy vows and won’t even be able to wait for the official statement to kiss each other. And, of course, you’ll go to Rio for your freaking honeymoon. I might as well already buy the plane tickets.”
“Jesus, Weiss, are you on drugs?” Yang mocks, but she’s slightly blushing.
“Yeah Weiss, what are you even talking about?” Blake adds, and she’s slightly blushing too.
It doesn’t go unnoticed by Weiss, of course it doesn’t, and she rolls her eyes.
“You both know I am always right. Now get out of my office. I can’t watch you two being so disgustingly sappy for each other anymore.”
Blake and Yang scoff but obey, hand in hand. As they walk away, they fill the corridor with whispers, shorten breaths and chuckles.
And as they would eventually realize the moment they set foot in Rio for the second time in their life, it turns out that Weiss is, indeed, always right.