Could you see Jaune having trouble with meat going forward because he just spent decades where everything was potentially human levels of sentience.
Jaune is poking at his food.
Which Yang knows isn’t THAT strange, he’s never been good at feeding himself when he’s down (a certain week at Beacon with a certain asshole who shall remain unnamed comes to mind) and Jaune certainly has more than enough reason to be out of sorts these days. Being young then old then young again would do that to a guy.
But this is different than his normal lack of appetite. He’s not just pushing his food around; he’s actively picking over pieces of it, almost putting them in his mouth, and then putting the food back on the plate. There’s a certain green around the gills look on her friend’s face that Yang’s come to associate with airship travel.
Not that she can blame him. The food in Vacuo isn’t what she’d call normal or appetizing, but with supplies limited they can’t turn up their noses, especially since they didn’t exactly give Vacuo time to prepare for an influx of refuges.
Still, eating worms, bats, and lizards has taken some getting used to.
“Are you gonna invite me to sit down, or do I have to keep lurking?” Yang quips, plopping down next to her fellow blonde. He jumps, predictably, but his startle instinct is less than it was a week ago. Baby steps.
“Oh! Yeah uh… hey.” He smiles sideways at her. “Did you need something?”
“Nah, not really,” she shrugs. “Just saw you sitting all by your lonesome and thought I’d join you.” She pokes at his food. “You gonna eat that?”
Jaune drops his gaze back to his plate, and once again his expression turns queasy. Like a toddler faced with a plate full of vegetables. Strange, Yang never took Jaune for a picky eater, but then again he did eat almost exclusively dinosaur chicken nuggets back at Beacon.
“It’s looking at me,” he groans, poking at the side of a roasted lizard. It flops over and he shudders.
“So do fish,” Yang says bluntly, dropping an arm around his shoulders. “And I’ve seen Blake eat those heads and all.”
“You know shockingly you’re not helping.”
“Come on, this can’t be the weirdest thing you’ve eaten.” She leans in conspiratorially, lowers her voice. “I mean I was only in the Ever After for a day or two but that parfait-” Yang is fully about to launch into a tirade on the pros and cons of growgurt parfait, but something makes her pause.
The fork is rattling in his grip. Her eyes narrow. That’s not just nausea. A glass dropped in a kitchen miles away comes to mind.
“Jaune…” Yang trails off. Are you alright? What’s wrong? Do you need to talk? She can probably guess the answers to all three questions, but none really feel appropriate in the middle of a cafeteria.
So she draws on the only other well of experience she has. Being a big sister to a very picky eater.
“What’s wrong with the food?” Blunt, but sometimes it’s best to cut to the heart of the issue. “Is there something else you’d rather have?”
“Not meat,” Jaune replies without hesitation, and Yang is admittedly taken aback. He’s never been a carnivore by any means, but his aforementioned love of dino nuggets barred him from vegetarianism.
Yang looks back down at his plate. The lizard is still looking at them, and Jaune is very determinately not making eye contact. “If this is still about the eyes, I’m sure that-”
“No. No it’s not,” Jaune cuts her off, shaking his head. “Well I mean, a little bit, but.” He plops his head down in his hand. Glances sideways at her, and then away again. “Promise you won’t laugh?”
Yang is almost offended that he thinks SHE of all people might laugh at him for what is obviously a trauma response. Friendly negging, sure, but never laughter. She wouldn’t do that to anyone, let alone him. But then a certain magenta and cyan cat with a wicked grin and sharp tongue comes to mind, and she’s reminded that laughter in the face of pain is probably all he’s known for years.
She hates that fucking cat.
“I promise, Jaune. I won’t laugh.”
He studies her for more than a moment, searching her face for any hint of insincerity. Of course finding none, he sighs. “You remember Little?”
Yang blinks. Not where she thought this was going. Roll with the punches. “Yeah. Kinda hard to forget a talking mouse.”
“Right. Yeah, of course.” Jaune laughs weakly, running a hand through his hair. He scratches at the back of his neck, reaching for a ponytail that isn’t there. “Stupid of me.”
Yang grabs his hand, and he starts. “Hey. None of that,” she reprimands, stopping his downward spiral before it has time to start. Her thumb rubs a circle in his palm, and she can feel him untense. “What about Little?”
“They’re why I don’t wanna eat meat,” he admits. He's speaking quickly, like the words are being drawn out of him.
No laughing, not now, but Yang can’t help her skeptical look. Little, by their own admission, had never been away from home. And sure, Jaune was there for decades, but he didn’t seem to know the mouse.
Jaune sees her look and clarifies. “Well not them specifically, but like… the Afterans. Everything there was so… alive, they could talk, think for themselves. Everything. The mice, rabbits, deer, birds…”
His grip tightens on her hand. “I didn’t have a choice in the beginning. It wasn’t fun, but what else could I do? I had to eat, and after the clock fruit I didn’t trust the plants, so the animals…” Jaune swallows thickly. “The animals seemed like the safest bet.”
If her hand was flesh, she’s sure his nails would be biting into her skin. As it is, she can feel the way his hand is gripping hers like it’s the only thing keeping him from running. And it’s horrible, because Yang thinks she can see the end of the tunnel, the destination this story is going to.
“I knew how to do it. Hunt animals, I mean,” he says, his voice horribly detached. “I used to go hunting with my mom when the food stores were low. And in Mistral, with Ruby and Ren and Nora. So I knew how to catch an animal and skin it and cook it.”
Jaune laughs again. “It wasn’t pretty, Ren could definitely do a better job. So cooking and cleaning it wasn’t the worst part. The worst part…” He swallows thickly. “The worst part was killing it. It was alive, Yang. It was alive, and it was staring at me, and it didn’t want to die.” He stares down at the lizard on his plate. It stares back at him, accusing almost.
“How… how do you know it didn’t want to die?” Yang asks tentatively, even though she’s pretty sure she knows the answer.
“It told me.” His voice is horrible, wretched. The green is back in his cheeks and Yang hates that she now knows the reason why. “It told me! And I still killed it, and cooked it, and ate-” Jaune’s voice chokes off. The words seem to catch in his throat. “It was like… it was like eating…”
“Like eating a person,” Yang finishes, the train now having reached the horrible station. Jaune nods, horror stricken, and Yang trades which hand is holding his so she can rub circles into his back. He’s still just staring at his food. “Gods Jaune I… That’s so fucked, I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”
“I had to eat, or I’d die. And I couldn’t die because I had to wait for you all to arrive. So I had to eat.” The way he says it, so matter-of-fact, Yang can’t help but wonder what else he’s internalized as being what he had to do, no matter the harm it caused him.
She doesn’t know what to say. Picky eating, she could handle. Trauma, she could handle that, too. At least, to an extent. But sometimes it was just too much.
“How long?” Yang asks eventually. “You weren’t eating meat while we were there, how long did you have to do that?”
“A week. I think,” he responds. “Time was difficult.” And isn’t that the understatement of a century. “Once I found the Hunter Mice they showed me which plants were safe to eat. Some of them were hit and miss, but I was good from then on. Especially when I made it to the Market.”
The lizard stares up at them both. Yang glares back at it, as if the dead desert dweller was the one who sent Jaune back in time and made him so desperate to live that he was forced to… do that.
“So… no meat?”
“No meat,” Jaune confirms. “I could probably choke it down if needs must, but…”
“Not even dino nuggies?” she grins.
He barks out a laugh. “My only weakness. No, not yet.” Not yet. That was better than she was expecting. His cheeks are still a little green, but he’s not shaking anymore at least. “Maybe at some point, but not now. No meat.” He grimaces, poking at the lizard. “And especially none with eyes.”
“Well in that case, come on.” Yang stands. He finally pulls his eyes away from the plate, and blinks up at her. “Let’s go!”
“Go where?”
“To find you something to eat!” Hand still firmly clasped around his, she hauls him up and scoops the unwanted plate up in the other. “I’m sure Sun knows someplace around here that serves vegetarian options.”
“Oh you don’t have to do that,” Jaune protests. “I already ruined your whole lunch with this.” He gestures vaguely between himself and the plate.
“No way, you didn’t do anything.” Yang jabs a finger in his chest. “If you need an ear to listen, I’m happy to be there. You’re not imposing, you’re not too much, I’ve got you.” She doesn’t tell people that enough. A tea cup and a wooden tomb. She needs to tell people that more. “I’m buying you lunch. Veggies. Fruits. You name it, you get it.”
“You really don’t have to do that.”
“Oh, I really think I do.”
“I’m not going to change your mind about this, am I?” he smiled, allowing Yang to drag him from the cafeteria.
“No-sir-ee bob,” she said, swinging his hand back and forth. “You are not leaving my side until we get some desert fresh veggies in your stomach.” She passed the uneaten plate to a volunteer by the door. “My treat.”
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