Disclaimer: Final Fantasy XIII does not belong to me.
Author's Note: We're getting there!
The One Where Being Twelve Sucks
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The first time Claire realizes that she might have a crush on Hope is when she is twelve and suddenly he is a student at the prestigious Eden University and her neighbour all at once and Serah just will not stop teasing her about it.
"He's here for three more days!" Her little sister giggles from where she is leaning over the armrest of the couch, braiding Claire's hair with deft fingers and a bright yellow hair band. "You should go talk to him!"
Claire tries to sink in further into the cushions and wishes that her little sister was normal, because when Claire was her age, she did not like the idea of stupid boys and stupid crushes and stupid Hope Villiers. Serah was just weird – and Hope was too old for her, anyway!
(Well, when she was twenty-five he would be thirty-two and that wasn't that big of an age difference, and she knew people who were married who had an age gap similar to that but it's not like she has ever seriously considered this—)
"Hello?" Said stupid Hope Villiers calls out from her front door, which has been left ajar for him to let himself in. There was something wrong with the plumbing in their kitchen sink, and their mother was too tired to fix it herself and Hope – the nice, handsome, next door neighbour shut up Claire you are not thinking this – had offered to come fix it when it came up at brunch earlier on in the day.
"Hope!" Serah squeals next to her ear and jumps off her armchair, racing towards the silver haired boy with her arms spread out. "You're here!"
He lets her fling herself at him and embraces her back, all the while laughing into her hair. "I was just here this morning, Serah. Did you miss me that much?"
"Claire and I always miss you, Hope." Serah grins at her from where she's still hugging him. "Isn't that right, Claire?"
Claire's fingers clench around the math book she's trying to get through and absolutely refuses to look in the direction of her evil little sister and their neighbour. "Hi, Hope."
And because he's Hope, who rarely leaves her alone when she really wishes he would (not really, she likes the attention, and the way he smiles at her, and the way his hair looks in the sunlight, and—) he comes over and leans against the back of her couch to peer closer at what she's reading. Out of the corner of her eye she can see him make a sympathetic face at her equations. "Math, huh? Do you want any help with that?"
"Yes, she does!" Serah pipes in before Claire can reply, weaving around him and flopping back down in her armchair. "Claire hates math. It's her worst subject."
"It is not!" Claire's face turns slightly red even though it is the complete truth, and she really would like some help because she doesn't want to fail her class, but she doesn't want Hope – who's studying some sort of complicated science thing at Eden University – to know. "I'm doing just fine!"
Hope's laugh brushes against her hair and her face turns red for an entirely different reason. "Well, if you change your mind, let me know." His hand comes to rest on her head for a short moment as he straightens and Claire is reminded of just how childish she must appear to him. Being twelve kind of sucked.
"Where's your mom?" He asks, and she turns around to watch him pace back to the front door and the toolbox he dropped to catch Serah's embrace. She watches as he leans down and begins to sort through it, searching for whatever it is that will apparently fix their sink.
"She's still sleeping," Serah pipes up from beside her, her attention already turning to the cartoon that's coming onto the TV. "She's been asleep since you and Snow left this morning. It's not fair! When I want to sleep in, I can't. But she gets to do it all the time."
From her angle Claire can see the way his face suddenly turns sad - Hope's entire expression drops and for a second she thinks he might actually be in physical pain. She almost asks him if something's wrong before his grimace smoothes itself out and he rises back up, tools in hand. "I'll try to be quiet then," he states, and disappears in the direction of their kitchen. Claire watches him go and tries to decide – her math textbook, or Hope? He had been away for the past few weeks finishing up his midterms, and she really does want to know what he's been doing recently…
(And if he has a girlfriend. She finds herself really, really wanting to know.)
She sneaks a look at Serah, who is completely enamoured with her TV show, and drops her textbook on the couch. Serah giggles as she leaves in the direction he had just gone in and Claire wishes she had a pillow to throw at her.
Inside the kitchen, only half of Hope is visible as he sits under their counters and rummages through whatever is there. Claire kind of wants to ask if she can help, because she thinks it would be a good idea to know how to fix their frequently breaking sink the next time her mom is too tired and Hope is at school, but staring at Hope (even if it's half of him) when he can't see her do so is just too tempting.
"Hi Claire," his voice comes from underneath the counter and she jumps.
"How did you know it was me?" With a nonchalance she doesn't feel, she plops herself down at the stools by the kitchen island and leans her head on one hand to watch him. Hope's chuckle floats out from somewhere behind the plumbing she can now see from her angle, making the tips of her ears turn slightly red. She had really hoped she would grow out of that one, but she just has no luck whatsoever.
"Serah's always making some sort of noise when she walks," he replies and Claire almost giggles – she clamps it down and smiles with her teeth digging into her bottom lip instead. Her sister did have a tendency to hum or giggle to herself a lot. "Besides, I always know when you're there."
The blood rushes to Claire's face again, making her glad once again that Hope can't actually see her. "How do you do that?"
There comes the sound of Hope tinkering with something for a few moments before his face emerges, framed by messy hair that – much like his brother – almost always needs a haircut. "You just have a presence around you. It's easy to tell when you're in the room." He grins at her and Claire's heart feels like it is going to either stop, or burst out of her chest due to the frantic pace it's beating at.
(She remembers hating Hope. It was almost easier.)
"O-oh." Embarrassed, she turns her eyes away from his face and to the patterns on the marble surface she's leaning against.
"Ah, sorry Claire, I didn't mean to embarrass you." Liar, she thinks and dares to look up and send him a glare. She knows Hope Villiers, and he never stopped being crafty. He catches her glare and because he can read her mind (she doesn't really believe that, not anymore – except sometimes it's like he knows her better than she does) and winks at her before disappearing back into the pipes.
"How were the midterms?" Claire finally asks after several minutes of companionable silence (with the exception of her still crazy heart, but she is glad he can't actually hear it).
"Not too bad," the reply comes from the darkness and then a grunt, and the sound of him swearing to himself. Claire hides her smile into the palm of her hand. "I'm pretty sure one of the professors has it in for me for some reason so I won't be surprised if I get a bad grade on that one, but—" And then he emerges again, sneezing from the dust she's sure he's unsettled underneath their sink, and shrugs at her. "But I don't think you really care about that. Don't let me ruin your expectations for Eden, by the way. It's a great place. I'm glad I managed to get in." A strange look passes over his face then, and she thinks that for a second he's lost himself somewhere in his head. She's noticed that he does that, sometimes.
"I always want to hear what you have to say," Claire says and before he can make a teasing reply back to her, rushes on. "And I doubt I'd actually get in there. Everyone keeps talking about how hard the entrance exams are and my grades aren't the best…" She trails off when she notices him smiling at her again, and averts her eyes to the side. "What?"
"You've still got a long way to go before you have to actually worry about that." He hefts himself up and turns around to test out the knobs – it turns and she watches as the water first comes out full of rust, and then turns clear again and keeps going. Hope twists it back off and claps his hands in satisfaction. "There we go! This shouldn't trouble you for a while longer, now."
"Thanks," Claire says on behalf of their mother, who she is surprised hasn't awoken yet from the work in the kitchen. Hope turns to grin at her again and reaches for a towel to dry his hands with.
"And don't worry about the math," he says to her, a grin stretching his face apart – but unlike his brother, it looks softer on him and miles kinder. Sometimes, Claire likes to imagine that it was only that way when he smiled at her. "Whenever I'm home, I'll come over and tutor you. I promise."
And just like that, Claire can feel herself turning red again and she knows he knows. He would have to be blind not to notice her face turn the color of a tomato.
Stupid, crafty, Hope Villiers.
And stupid, stupid Claire for actually liking him.
