Here we are with another old-rp-turned-fanfic!

Let me just state right off the bat that I know this isn't everyone's cup of tea. But please understand these replies were written between two people, over days and weeks and months, during our free time, between school and work and whatnot. The replies are meant to be quick and carry the story bit by bit over a long period of time/multiple days.

So if the story seems oddly-paced or too long or drawn-out at some parts, try thinking about it in terms of its original form as a roleplay, not as a full-fledged fanfic.

This story will feature a lot of italicized and bolded lines for handling text messages and computer chats. So to keep things simple, Blake's parts will begin underlined while Weiss' will remain untouched. It's also a normal life AU, no huntsmen or Grimm or Faunus.

Additionally, along with the usual drama, this story will handle more mature and triggering themes, so do take care in proceeding.

Disclaimer: I do not own RWBY.

Keyboards

Chapter 1.

Weiss Schnee was as high up on the social ladder as most people in her town could get.

Her father ran a very prestigious furniture company, and her last name was well-known by all. She went to school, but otherwise was home getting lectured by private tutors. She was home a lot inside that mansion, but that didn't mean people didn't know who she was, nor did it mean people weren't intimidated by her.

And rightfully so.

She was quick-witted, short-tempered, and perhaps even a bit hot-headed. Certainly nothing short of conceited.

And she ran a very renown blog.

After only a year of having it, she already had over 8,000 followers. She often posted pictures of herself and blogged about whatever piqued her interest. She was like a celebrity, and for the most part, she absolutely loved it.

But even celebrities have their troubles.

. . .

Blake Belladonna was about as low on the social ladder as was possible without completely dropping off of it altogether.

She was the daughter of a well-off couple; her father was a local photographer and her mother worked in hotel management. She wasn't rich but she wasn't poor - she lived comfortably.

She went to the local high school, but even then she was a nobody. Outside of her small circle of friends she was practically unknown. She was bookish, shy, intelligent, and averse to confrontation - a humble person if there ever was one.

And she maintained a small blog where she kept up with what was going on in the world. She only had a handful of followers, mostly just friends who knew her in real life.

She didn't follow too many other people. She was very selective.

But there was one blog in particular she was in love with and made sure to see every post of.

. . .

Weiss' days followed a set routine. She'd wake early to get ready for school, eat breakfast, and freshen up before Winter needed to get into the bathroom. During her spare time before she needed to get to the bus stop, Weiss would go online briefly, scroll through her blog and see what she'd missed overnight.

She often posted pictures of her outfits each day, and she'd sit and watch as the number of "likes" and "reshares" climbed higher and higher.

There was one blog she noticed that was often the first to like her photos, but she couldn't remember the username off the top of her head. It was just another random person on the Internet, after all.

After her morning routine at home, she'd head off to school quickly, usually before her father woke up.

She made sure to avoid him as much as possible.

. . .

Blake's schedule didn't really change much day by day.

She got up early and just relaxed in her bed before taking a shower. After that she would dress and eat her breakfast and make her school lunch.

By then she would have a little time before school to check her own blog and her favorite blog.

Most of the time the owner of the blog would post pictures of their outfit, and as soon as it was posted Blake liked and reshared it. She didn't think for a minute that the girl who ran the blog noticed her, but she was happy to like the pictures.

After that she would leave for school, and then wait for it to end so she could return home and continue relaxing in her room.

. . .

At school, Weiss was expected to do many things.

She was on the Student Council, though not yet experienced enough to be its president. But it was arguable that she did more work than the current president. She was on top of every event, every assignment, ready to help every student in need of assistance. She'd been raised to be responsible for herself and for others, and she liked to believe she was putting her skills to good use.

Her grades were essential. They needed to be perfect, or else she'd be punished. Sometimes severely.

Which was why she was always at the top of her game, putting in her full effort. Her only time for relaxing and unwinding was when she could sit down at her computer and simply forget the rest of the "real" world for a while every night.

. . .

At school, Blake wasn't really expected to do much of anything.

She was a smart student and passed all of her classes, but she really didn't have a particular interest in anything. She wasn't involved with any of the clubs, and the only extracurricular activities she did were track and field.

Her grades were important, but if she slipped up a little it was no big deal. Her parents were understanding.

Her favorite time of the day was when she got home and could relax in front of her computer, surfing the web, watching videos, and viewing her favorite blog every night.

. . .

Weiss loved her blog; loved the popularity she got from it. It wasn't so much vanity as it was feeling she was important, special, needed somehow. She liked feeling that she actually mattered, and online to thousands of total strangers was ironically where she felt that most.

But even online, it was a bit disheartening at times. People only seemed to like her photos and posts about her successes.

Yet she didn't only post about the good things. Sometimes she needed an outlet to vent, and she turned to the Internet for that.

Whenever she posted something about her troubles or the stress she was experiencing, she was more or less ignored by the people online. Whenever she posted about her insecurities or struggles, people blew her off like she didn't exist, both in real life and online.

However, there were always a few anonymous messages she'd receive, telling her how amazing she was, that she could pull through whatever was happening. Without fail, those always came through when she needed to read things like that.

She liked those people - whomever they were - and wished she could discover them, but they never revealed their identities to her.

. . .

Blake was happy with her blog. Not many people knew about it, but she liked it regardless. It was her way of staying connected to the rest of the world even when she was alone in her room. She didn't mind that she did so in obscurity.

Her favorite blogger would post stories about her successes in life along with pictures of herself. And sometimes though she would vent in a post, rant about anything and everything that was bothering or upsetting her.

Blake noticed those posts didn't garner the same amount of attention; they faded away because most people didn't care.

Blake did though. She would always see those posts and send a message of encouragement and support. She always hid behind the mask of anonymity though, afraid to be found out. She was nervous of what the owner of the blog would say if she learned about who was sending her messages.

. . .

Weiss had been going through a very stressful time in her life as of recently. Midterm exams were coming up, and being in high school, she had tests in eight different classes. On top of that, she had plenty of Student Council work to take care of, not to mention her chores, and-

-other family matters.

Avoiding her father wasn't easy, but Weiss did it whenever she could. Unlike her sister.

Winter was the "perfect" child, daddy's little girl. She was always one A+ ahead of Weiss, she'd been president of the Student Council when she was in high school, and she was getting a job soon. She'd set the bar so high for Weiss, she felt she couldn't even see it, let alone reach it.

Before bed that night, Weiss opened her laptop and sat down at her desk, hands pulling at her bangs in her usual nervous habit. She didn't blog much tonight, and her final post was short and uninformative, hidden under a cut.

I'm so tired. There's so much to do... What if I can't finish everything...?

. . .

Blake hung out her house that day, just messing around online. Midterms were coming up, but she wasn't too worried about it; she usually did well without having to study.

She was a little disappointed when her favorite blog didn't have much activity that day. It was only at night, right when Blake was getting ready to sign off, when she saw a post.

She read it right away and instantly felt for the other girl, a girl she had never met. Going to the blog's main page she went through her usual routine of sending support.

Don't worry. You may have a lot to do, but I believe you'll get it done. You're really amazing!

. . .

Weiss had been about to log off, but before she could do so, she saw the little red (1) over her inbox, indicating she had received a message.

She hesitated; she was always anxious whenever she got a message after posting something personal about her troubles. She was scared it'd be a cruel message telling her to "stop whining and just get over it" or worse, a message telling her to do something much more drastic.

She'd gotten one of those before, a message that said "just kill yourself then". It had frightened her more than anything, and she'd almost broke down crying.

But she'd always get so many more supportive messages, mostly anonymous.

Which was why she never disabled the option. Whomever was sending her kind messages was too shy to do it without hiding their identities. Weiss couldn't deny she needed those people in her life, and if keeping them anonymous was the only way to do it, she'd comply.

Presently, something compelled her to gather her courage. So she checked her new message.

She was glad she did.

It was another kind anonymous message, but there was something about the writing style that told her it was the same person who'd been supporting her for months now. She could tell who they were by the way they typed, but she had too many followers for her to be able to go through each blog and check how each person wrote to compare.

Weiss truly wanted to find out who this particular person was, and yet a part of herself wanted to keep them a secret. She was scared that revealing them would cause them to leave and stop speaking to her, and Weiss couldn't afford that.

She closed her laptop and went to her bed, feeling a bit better about her troubles now; even if everything else in her life was going wrong, at least there was still one person who cared.

. . .

After Blake sent her message, she smiled to herself a little. Closing her laptop, she got ready to go to bed, happy that she could hopefully brighten someone's day.

She knew how terrible and mean people could be on the Internet. Behind the mask of anonymity, many people resorted to nasty words and bullying. But behind the same mask, Blake felt comfortable enough to be supportive towards someone she didn't know, yet stilled cared about.

. . .

When she woke the next morning, Weiss remembered the kindness that had seen her to sleep the night before. She really wanted to know who that particular person was, simply so she could thank them properly, perhaps give them a name.

But her little computer problems would have to wait, because life was throwing so much more at her now.

Today was her first day of midterms, and thus a shortened day at school. She took her three exams in a manner that was unusual for her. She'd typically tackle these sort of things with poise and confidence.

But today she was pulling at her hair, feet shifting, mind whirling as she remembered her father's threats; threats that he'd more or less disown her if she didn't get perfect scores on every test.

She forced herself to sit through the exams, checking and rechecking her answers a dozen times, making absolutely sure they were all correct.

When the students were dismissed, Weiss rushed to the restroom, flung open a stall, and retched up her breakfast. She hoped some of her anxieties would go with it, but those seemed to stay.

. . .

Blake woke up that morning feeling happy that she had given someone a positive message the night before.

Today was the first day of midterms, which meant shortened classes. Plus, she only had two midterms today so she got to leave even earlier. She hurried to school if only for the sake of hurrying back home.

Of course during the exams Blake was bored. The first two classes were easy ones that she hadn't bothered studying for.

Partway through her mind started to wander back home and what she would do online when she got back. First things first, she would check on her favorite blog, of course.

. . .

It was a few minutes after all the bile had worked its way up her throat. But she was nervous that someone else might walk in to hear her. That would be all kinds of bad, especially if it was a teacher that found her. They'd call home and tell her father, and he'd yell at her for certain. Her sister Winter handled all of her responsibilities without getting sick, so Weiss had to do so as well.

She coughed again, grabbing a handful of toilet paper and wiping it over her mouth. There were hot tears running down her face, and she tore off another sheet to clear them away. She blew her nose and tossed it into the water before flushing, lest the scent of it all make her nauseous all over again.

Weiss then closed the seat and sat heavily on top, burying her face in her hands as she tried to catch her breath before she would need to go out and find her bus for the ride home.

. . .

Blake finished her test with about thirty minutes left. Pulling out the book she always carried with her, she immersed herself in the fantasy world of the story.

After about ten minutes she decided to escape to the bathroom. She stood, quietly walked over to the door, and signed out, leaving the classroom as others started to finish their exams. The hallways were quiet, as every classroom was filled with testing students.

When she entered the bathroom she immediately smelled something off; it was very different from the usual smells of a high school bathroom. She almost left, but knew better than to do so without investigating.

When she looked in the first stall, she found a vaguely familiar girl sitting at the toilet, tear stains on her cheeks and toilet paper covering her mouth.

. . .

Weiss had rushed into the stall so quickly at the time, she hadn't realize she'd neglected to lock the door. It creaked open a bit now, and she was about to get up to close it, needing a bit more time to recover. She staggered to her feet, a hand still covering her mouth with paper.

But the sound of the main door opening caused her to freeze. She was too slow to close her stall's door, and a girl appeared before her. She had long, wavy black hair and was dressed casually, and if she was allowed to go to the restroom now, that meant she'd finished her exams early. Her eyes were a particularly alluring color, like pools of honey.

But Weiss was in no condition to appreciate this girl's charms.

She stood halfway out of her stall and slowly lowered her hand, panting slightly as the paper fell. Surely, the smell in the air still lingered, and Weiss didn't think there was anything she could do to prevent this girl from asking questions.

But she could still try.

Weiss straightened her back and brushed past the other student, stopping by the sink to support herself a bit. She looked warily back over her shoulder, sending a silent plea for the other girl not to make a scene of things to the teachers.

"I've cleaned things up," she mumbled. "You don't… need to tell anyone, okay?"

Weiss turned away, pulled a paper towel from the dispenser, wetted it under the sink, and dabbed it over her face. A small sob echoed about the tiled walls, but she didn't look back at the girl again, not even through the mirror.

. . .

Blake watched the other girl stand shakily and walk on unsure legs past her. She was shorter, with long snow-white hair and eyes like pools of pure water. She was dressed like a young professional and her makeup was applied perfectly. Blake felt she'd seen her around here or there.

But there were small things Blake noticed that disturbed the girl's put-together image. Her eyes were watering and the makeup was slightly smudged, her hair had strands sticking out and her clothes were slightly wrinkled.

In spite of her innate shyness, Blake couldn't just stand by and do nothing.

"Hey, let me help you. I won't tell anyone if you don't want me to." She cautiously approached the girl. "You cleaned the bathroom up... let me help clean you up."

. . .

Weiss hesitated for a moment, listening. She didn't know what to do; as much as she would've liked the help, she was worried that somehow all of this might get back to her father.

She was about to refuse the girl's offer when another pang went through her chest. Weiss whimpered and put a hand to her collar, blinking more tears from her eyes. She released a withering sigh, maintaining a firm stance turned away form the other girl.

"Fine…" she wheezed. "Just, please… you can't tell anyone."

If she was honest with herself, Weiss knew she needed the help, if not just the presence of someone who wouldn't yell at her or be disappointed at her for having worried herself sick.

. . .

Blake waited for the other girl to consent to the contact, not wanting to anger or scare her. When she received that consent, she carefully reached out and adjusted the shorter girl's clothes, smoothing out the wrinkles.

"So... what's wrong?" Blake asked quietly after a moment. "Er, y-you don't have to talk if you don't want to," she added quickly. She tucked away the stray white hairs sticking out from the girl's otherwise-perfect white ponytail.

. . .

The hands on her blouse weren't rough, nor did they yank when they went to her hair. The other girl was very gentle, her touch soft and soothing, helping release some of the tension that had coiled up inside of Weiss.

But the question she asked had Weiss freezing up all over again. At the very least, this girl deserved an explanation; Weiss just didn't know how to give it to her.

She contemplated for a moment, chewing her lip and the inside of her cheek. She wanted to open up - to tell someone what she was dealing with. But again, she was scared of it somehow getting back to her father. Besides, what good would telling some stranger do?

"It's just stress…" she muttered. "This doesn't happen often, but it's not the first time either. I'm used to it."

. . .

"Hey, don't worry about it," Blake said. She was relieved the girl had replied at all. "We all get stressed out, especially around exam time. Sorry if it's not really my place to say... but maybe you should try easing up on yourself. This isn't healthy."

Blake finished fixing the other girl's hair. Reaching past her, she grabbed a paper towel from the dispenser and ran it under warm water for a second.

"Hold still now."

Blake softly padded the paper towel at the corners of the white-haired girl's mouth, as if she'd been taking care of her for years already.

. . .

Weiss almost laughed bitterly at her own answer to this girl's question.

"Just stress." If it were as simple as that, Weiss would've simply shrugged it off and continued with her life. These weren't just normal levels of stress; the vomiting was slowly becoming normal for her, it seemed.

But again, she didn't dare speak any of it to this stranger.

It was almost funny; this girl spoke as if Weiss had the luxury or the option to "ease up on herself."

She sighed bitterly and closed her eyes, willingly keeping still as the girl ran a paper towel over her face, cleansing off the last few bits of grime. Weiss breathed deeply, but it didn't satisfy her like she'd hoped it would. It was times like these she just wished she could wrap her arms around herself and fall asleep.

She must've still been delirious from the brief sickness she'd suffered, because she wasn't in conscious control of her body. Her arms reached out toward the other girl, longing for some form of contact, needing something to hold onto-

But she caught herself, eyes flying wide open as she recoiled sharply.

"S-Sorry…" She stepped away from the girl, her eyes going to the floor. "Thanks for your help. You should go…"

. . .

Blake finished wiping the girl's face off, cleaning off the smudged makeup and grime. "There. All done," she said with a smile as she threw the paper towel in the trash can.

The girl's motion to reach out for her surprised Blake. It was like she was half-asleep for a moment, unaware of what she was doing before she snapped back into reality.

As the white-haired girl apologized, it was Blake's turn to act without thinking. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around her carefully.

"You don't need to apologize. Seems to me you've been working really hard in school and everything. I think it's amazing."

. . .

She'd initially feared that her seeking comfort would lead to ridicule, that this girl would step away and glare at her or call her out on it.

Weiss was nothing short of surprised when she felt arms slip around her torso and back.

She… couldn't remember the last time she'd been hugged, and she froze up, almost in fear. She wasn't sure if she should return the contact or break away.

But she did know one thing for certain.

It felt really, really nice. To have someone else shield her from the world for a moment, to be able to feel another heartbeat against her own, to feel that warmth…

And her words.

Weiss felt like she'd heard them somewhere before, but she couldn't dig up the memories just yet.

She released a shaky sigh over the girl's shoulder.

"Just… just remember. You can't tell anyone about any of this."

It was too hard to say 'thank you', and she hated that.

. . .

Blake held the other girl in the hug for another few moments, willing her to calm down a little. And she listened.

"I promise I won't tell anyone. Just... maybe promise me you'll take care of yourself?" Pulling away from the hug, Blake looked down at the girl and smiled. She hoped the kind words and actions would improve things, even if it was just a little.

. . .

The embrace was coming apart, and Weiss sighed. But she felt much better than any other time this had happened - usually, she'd have to clean herself up and limp away to catch her bus.

But there were no residual feelings of nausea this time, almost as though she'd never been sick at all.

She knew that would be short-lived, so she savored it now.

"Right. I'll take care of myself," she muttered. "You do the same."

She gathered her book bag and slung it over her shoulder before making for the door. But Weiss paused just as she opened it, and she looked back over her shoulder.

"And… thank you... for all of this…"

With that, she hurried off down the hall.

. . .

Blake smiled as the white-haired girl left the bathroom, happy that she had helped someone else even if it was just a little bit.

Something about that girl seemed familiar to Blake, but she couldn't put her finger on what it was. She only knew the other girl was one of the popular crowd, someone that was well off, but not much more.

Now that she was alone, Blake realized she'd been gone from the classroom for a while already. Checking her phone, she found that school was almost over and that she still needed her stuff. She finished up in the bathroom quickly before hurrying back to her classroom.

A/N: I've edited both parts despite originally only writing Weiss', just because this was written several years ago, and I wanted to make things a bit more up-to-date with the series canon (like regarding Weiss' family).

WARNING: Chapter 2 will deal with mature and triggering themes. Please proceed with caution.

Please review!