Diary of a Concerned Friend
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Disclaimer: I do not own RWBY.
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You're important to me, you know.
I mean, obviously you mean something if I'm writing it here. You'll probably never read this (I hope), so you'll probably never know (I really hope), but I'm still thinking about you at least! You should feel flattered, except, you know, you'll never know. But you're still important enough to write this. To get you out of my head.
Not in that way, in case you're reading this, Yang. Or Weiss. (But not you, Blake- you know how to respect a girl's privacy. Unless you're reading this, in which case- Shame! Shame!)
So don't get the wrong idea. I'm not crushing or anything. I'm just… concerned. Since classes started.
I know that probably doesn't mean much coming from me. It's probably not convincing either. I mean, we both have our partners, and our teams, and it's not like you're a teacher or anything. You're not my best friend forever, you're not my family, and you sure don't scare me as much as Ms. Goodwitch. You aren't the center of my life, and my dreams don't revolve around you. Sorry. (Not really though.)
But that doesn't mean you're not important to me though. And it doesn't mean you don't mean important things to me either.
I… like stories, you know? I was raised on them. Grew on them. Devoured them, even. I think Yang still has a picture of me chewing the corner of one at one point. (Don't tell her I said that, or she really will show you, and that'd be embarrassing. I'm trying to be a big girl now, and baby photos won't help that.)
Point is, they're important stories. Important to me.
Do you know what my favorite kind of stories were? They weren't the ones where the mightiest heroes won the biggest battles, or the darkest days, or the fiercest monsters. They weren't the simple ones in which the Hero saves the Damsel (or the Damsel saves the Hero) (or the Hero is the Damsel, and thus the Heroine) and everything is happily ever after.
They were the ones in which Heroes grow. Where little people, not so different from you and me, did good things to become not-so-little people. Great people even. They were inspirational like that.
My favorite story growing up was one of knights and maiden. Do you see where this is going? It's an old story- a nameless one- but one that I swear I still remember Mom telling me.
Once upon a time, there was a young knight- no more than a squire- who came upon a common maiden in distress. The knight did a good deed for the maiden, before they were attacked by a fearsome monster. The knight stood his ground and was soon outmatched, until the maiden took up his sword for the first time and slew the beast herself. The two journeyed on together to kick badguy bootie as they both became amazing heroes.
Mom might not have used those exact words, but that's how Yang likes to tell it. Every time it's a different story, with a different tale- sometimes the two are in love, sometimes they're just friends. But there's always a constant. Two heroes. Growing from little nobodies, to something amazing. Starting off small and weak and ending up saving the day together, boon companions.
I want that. I've always wanted that. I wanted that for so long- not just to be rescued, which has a charm, and not just to be the rescuer, which has an appeal, but to have it both ways. To help, and be helped, and help in turn. To let one small deed becomes something big and strong and good. I wanted to grow, and I wanted to grow with friends.
The world doesn't work like that, of course. I know that. I drink enough milk to understand it's not that simple. And it'll probably be a long time before you save me or I save you from anything serious.
But you still make me think of those stories.
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Author Note:
An experiment in stream-of-consciousness writing, sorta.
This is the first part of, oh... a bit under 8k words. More to follow, usual drill.