A/N: Wow. So Christmas was fun. I burnt myself twice in attempt to make croquembouche (a French dessert which is a tower of cream puffs) and I got a Hope play-arts figure (he is um, for lack of better words, shotalicious).

Thanks for all of those who reviewed! It means a lot for a little word of encouragement to keep me going.

The recipe used in this chapter was made by PHATCAT from allrecipes.

Vocabulary: toque - a chef's hat

Chapter 4

The late afternoon air smelled of damp, decaying leaves mingling with the familiar scents of air pollution as Hope traversed from shop to shop, hunting down ingredients. Hands stuffed in his pockets, he shrunk down into his scarf as he crossed yet another busy street. It was an unusually cold day for October. Thus he had decorated his arms with multiple plastic bags filled with supplies in order to avoid his fingers from going completely numb. The sun was ready to tuck behind the tall buildings, giving the city a golden halo before it was immersed into shadows. Hope groaned when he felt his pocket begin to vibrate and stopped at the corner, sliding the two plastic bags off his right arm to fetch his phone.

"Hello?"

"Is everything going well? Are you there yet?" Chef Anya's voice filled his ear.

Hope shrugged his cell phone, picking up the bags he dropped. "Not yet. Hey—I wanted to thank you again for your punch pass to Brunoise." He slid the bags up his arm and returned the phone to his right hand, pressing forward. "I mean, those twelve week room passes aren't cheap."

"Well, you know it's only good for four weeks, seeing as I used up the other eight. I'm sorry I couldn't help more, but it's not like I'm going to be using it because of the baby," she explained. "It'll give you a place to start. By the way, did you get the order I sent you last night?"

Hope stopped at the crosswalk, "The wedding cake with the lilies? Yeah, I picked up the stuff while I was out. Yeah. If I have time, I'll work on it today." In addition to working at Eden, the occasional commission became available to him. It wasn't a steady source of income, but it helped supplement his paycheck enough to keep his bills paid. Anya was the one who usually sent clients to him for cakes or other pastries.

"Good luck."

"Thanks. Bye." Hope shut his phone and put his hand back into his pocket, wiggling his fingers to warm them. He reached Brunoise in a matter of minutes, relishing in the warmth as he stepped inside. It was a single floor building with a hall that stretched far beyond the entry room. The entry room itself was painted in a forest green, the walls lined with book shelves full of cookbooks and other items of interest. Over to the far left was a small French café where a few people sat talking over coffee and pastries. Hope exhaled and approached the front desk.

"Excuse me?" The girl situated at the desk ignored him, too engrossed in whatever hand-held game she was playing. Her nails were painted neon blue which matched the highlights in her hair. Hope cleared his throat and the girl glanced over her game at him. "I called about a room? It's for—"

"Name," she said, her focus returning to her game.

"Estheim, Hope," he answered, vocalizing his annoyance. The girl looked up at him again, snorted and rolled her eyes as she set her console down and pushed her rolling chair over to the computer. "You're in the julienne room, third one down on the right. This is for…four weeks on Friday from four thirty to seven. You got a pass?"

Hope nodded, digging into his back pocket and pulled out the laminated card, handing it to the girl. By now she was playing her game again and with one hand, punched his card and returned it to him.

"Thanks," said Hope, not surprised when there was no response. Still clutching the card, he headed down the hall. Adjacent to the door was an observation window, about double the width of the door. Hope peered into the window but the lights were off, and the hall lights were not ample enough to allow one to see in clearly. Returning to the door, Hope reached for the handle.

It was locked.

Hope growled and kicked the door as he violently jostled the knob. "Come on," he groaned. You would think they'd have better service up front.

"Here." Hope jumped backwards as the girl from the front desk seemingly spawned from nowhere and unlocked his door. She gave him a look, as though it were unusual for Hope to appear like he had just suffered a heart attack. "I would have let you have the key but I was afraid you would have broken it." If his hand had been free at that moment, he would have promptly smacked it against his forehead. Instead he sighed and entered the room, setting down his belongings at the nearest table.

The julienne room consisted nothing more of a table with four chairs, a long counter space extending out of the wall, and the very basics: stove, fridge, sink and the like. Hope stretched and took the first haul of groceries over to the refrigerator to unload. At least they have the decency to provide cookware. Hope noted a row of frying pans fixed to metal hooks on the wall. He began pulling equipment from drawers—two cutting boards, a bowl and then went into his own bag for two chef knives. Once all the equipment was carefully arranged, Hope withdrew a beaten up ipod dock form his bag, mostly held together by duct tape, and set it down on the table.

"Well, that's everything," said Hope, tying on his apron. He had pulled his untamable hair out of his face with hairclips—the only method that allowed him to see what he was doing when his toque wasn't available. Hope stared at the tools he had laid out the counter and the packages of gumpaste to his left. "Might as well get started on that." Reaching over, he turned on his ipod, the room soon filled with the blaring sounds of his music. Hope grinned, bobbing his head in sync with the song as tore open the plastic package and started to knead his gumpaste.

XXXXXXX

Lightning stood outside the storefront, holding up the crinkled slip of paper to once again verify she indeed had the correct address. After spending the entire morning emailing resumes to various companies, it felt strange that she should venture out of her home to come here. She pushed through the doors, a wave of heat welcoming her inside. Lightning shrugged out of her jacket and surveyed her surroundings—the front was some sort of gift shop/café, a rather stereotypical marketing strategy. With jacket draped over her arm, she approached the desk.

"I'm here for a cooking class," Lightning announced. She wrinkled her nose at the girl who was busying herself with a videogame. I don't have time for this…

Lightning slammed her palm down on the counter and the receptionist gave her a rather dirty look. "How may I help you?" she asked monotonously.

What is it with kids these days and not doing their job? "Cooking class, teacher's name is-" Lightning glanced down at the piece of paper which held the information Serah gave her. "Hope Estheim."

The girl snorted, "Julienne room, third on the right."

Lightning shook her head and carried down the corridor, resisting the urge to snatch the video game out of the girl's hand and crush it under her shoe. Her body stiffened as she approached the room and licked her lips. I could get out of this right now. Just turn around and walk out the door. Lightning folded her arms under her chest and leaned against the wall. She glanced to her left, the door down the hall inviting her to leave.

"-melting under blue skies,

Belting out the sunshine shimmering love-"

She snapped her head in the direction of the room, registering the sound of music escaping underneath the door. Curiosity pulling her along, Lightning craned her neck far enough just to peak into the window without being seen. There were only two things to make note of: the first being the lily petals on the small wooden table that was butted against the window. They were so beautiful, Lightning had to re-examine them multiple times to realize they were not real. The second thing to make note of was the occupant of the room.

Bent over at the counter was a young man in his early twenties. It was neither his mop of white-silver hair, nor the way he delicately handled the tool he was using to craft a flower petal that kept her attention on him. Rather, the fact that he was swaying to the music, completely absorbed in it as he belted the lyrics out of key with the song. One could be partially deaf and still hear his squawking melody.

So Lightning stood, watching silently, doubting her sister's capability to do anything correctly. Whether Serah's actual motive had been to find a professional instructor to teach her how to cook, or her to set her up with another guy, both appeared to have the potential for complete disaster. If it weren't for the confusion, the disappointment, and the possibility of betrayal, Lightning supposed she might have laughed. Yes—a male chef singing and swaying his hips to a song while making a flower petal out of some doughy substance could have been quite amusing. The sunflower hair clip that held his hair out of his face certainly didn't add to the image. She hadn't even realized that she moved from peeking to standing center and staring directly into the window.

"These lines of light-" He looked up from his work, catching sight of her and the fourth wall shattered. The man's voice died in his throat quickly, like a gunshot to the head, and his face immediately burned scarlet.

Highly embarrassing situation—turn around and walk away, the little voice inside her head instructed. Lightning turned heel and prepared to flee just as the music cut out and the door swung open. He grabbed her by the arm before she could even take a step forward.

"I…uh…" She spun around. With a blush still settled on his cheeks, he continued to grip her sleeve, "s-sorry about that. I guess I lost track of time."

Lightning's eyes narrowed, and she wrenched loose of his grip, holding her ground. "I don't know what my sister told you, but I'm not interested." She scoffed, and turned again, making her way towards the exit.

"Hold on a second!" He called after her and caught her again by the arm. She jerked away violently, giving him a fierce look that could easily melt holes in his brain. "Just…wait a second—before you jump to any conclusions, what do you mean 'you're not interested'?"

Lightning sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Are you really that dense? Look, I don't care how much my sister paid you to set you up with me, I don't want-"

"-Is that what you think this is?" Hope interjected. Lighting's eyes widened as she stared at him. "You honestly believe this is some sort of date?"

"Well with Serah, you really never can tell," she snapped back at him, folding her arms across her chest. There was a span of silence between them until she spoke again. "Though now that I think about it, it does seem highly unlikely that she'd set me up with a flower-making pansy boy like yourself."

"They're supposed to be lilies, actually," he retorted, brushing off her sharp insult. The man ran a frustrated hand through his hair and sighed. "Fine, just—I'll leave okay? Pack up my things. This never happened…can't believe I agreed to this in the first place."

"Agreed to what?"

He gave her a look, "Cooking lessons. Your sister asked me to teach you. I…I though you would have known that."

Lightning averted her eyes to her left, biting her lip. "I did. Just…it wasn't what I expected."

"Well," he shrugged, eyes moving from the floor to Lightning and back to the floor. "Sorry I didn't meet your expectations." The chef headed back into the room, leaving her standing outside. She hesitated for a moment before following him, stopping at the door way.

"So that's it?" she asked. The man caught her gaze again. Lightning noticed he was surprisingly easy to read, much like a child. Few defenses surrounded his emotions, and there was a distinct frankness about him that very few people had. Lightning found it to be somewhat refreshing.

"It's up to you, I guess," he replied. The man leaned against the wall and gestured to the flower petals. "Even if you leave, you can see that I do have a use for this room. I was working on an order for a cake until you got here."

Lightning swallowed and took a step into the room, "You're a pastry chef then?"

"Yeah, over at Eden," he confirmed. The man shifted in his spot, and then walked back to the counter, taking a seat on a bar stool as he picked up his tool and began working again. Lightning grounded herself two steps from the doorway, resisting the urge to have a closer look.

Eden…why does that name sound familiar? "So, what is you're making again?"

"Gumpaste lilies," he responded not bothering to look up from what he was doing. The focus he harbored seemed to be forced, as if trying to ignore her presence. Looking at him, she felt a little over dressed in a pair of heels, dark slacks, and some blouse that had been sitting in the back of her closet until Serah came over and dragged it out, insisting she should wear it. He was in jeans and a quarter-sleeve shirt, kept clean by a navy blue apron covered in white powder.

"Is that what that is? The white dough?"

"Yeah." He picked up the petal very gently, setting it over a long, cylinder and cut out a second petal with a knife.

Lightning felt completely awkward watching him at a distance, uncertain as whether to leave or stay. "What are all these flowers for anyways?"

"A customer called in today and commissioned me for a wedding cake," he replied, picking up a piece of wire and slowly pushing it into the petal. After the wire was in, he took the petal and pressed it into some sort of mold.

"So, who is Hope Estheim then?" This time he stopped and looked up from his work with confused green eyes. Lightning fished into her pocked and removed the piece of paper, walked up to the counter and laid it down next to him. "This is the information Serah gave me, but you don't look like-"

"I am," he said.

Lightning raised an eyebrow. "Your name is Hope?"

"Yes."

She shifted uncomfortably. "Isn't that a-"

"-girls name, yes, don't even let me start on how many people ask me that question," said Hope, who shook his head and continued on the petal. "So are you staying…Lightning, isn't it? That's what your sister said you preferred to be called."

"Call me Light."

"Okay, Light." Lightning cringed. It sounded strange coming from his mouth. "Are you staying?"

She chewed the inside of her cheek, thinking. "I guess."

"You guess?"

"Alright, I'll stay," she corrected. Much to her surprise, he cracked a smile. It threw her off-guard, and she remained quiet as he picked up the things he was working on and set them over on the table.

"Er, now that that's settled. I'm-well, I guess you already know my name," he shuffled through his bag in the corner and retrieved a small packet of papers, handing them to her. "This is the course syllabus...sort of. It's got my name and information, what we'll be doing each class session—that kind of stuff. Do you, uh, have any questions for me?"

Lightning skimmed over the packet, shaking her head. "No, I think I'm good."

"Right then," he maneuvered over to a chair, picked up a bundle of red fabric and handed it to her. "There's your apron. You'll want to tie up your hair and wash your hands before we start. We'll be going over basic knife skills and sanitation, unless you already know that, which in that case I guess we could just skip to week two's stuff…how much do you know about cooking exactly?"

"Well," Lightning began as she tied on the apron. "I can make toast, but it usually comes out black. I can boil water for instant noodles. There was this one time I tried making macaroni from a box, it didn't turn out so well." She was surprised when she felt heat rise to her cheeks, suddenly aware of the fact that she was probably being scrutinized by this guy. "So I'd say no experience." She removed a hair tie from her wrist, holding it between her teeth while she pulled her hair back.

"Great," said Hope, setting a wooding cutting board down in front of her. She frowned and finished tying her hair back.

"How is that great?"

"It means I don't have to spend another late night re-arranging the schedule," he chuckled. Hope grabbed two paper towels and wetted them under the sink, handing one to her.

She grimaced, taking hold of the slippery wad. "What's this for?" Hope held his own wad out in front of her, and then brought it to the sink, squeezing the excess water out of it. He then shook it out, and set it down on the counter, picked up the cutting board and set it over the top of the wet paper towel.

"See this?" He proceeded to push on the board, but it didn't budge. "And now yours." He pushed on her cutting board and it slid a few inches forward, "keeps it from sliding around."

"That's actually pretty useful," Lightning commented, following the same procedure Hope had done with the towel, "wouldn't exactly want that sliding out under me with a knife." He tapped her on the shoulder, and held up the first two fingers on his left hand. Lightning could make out a thin white line on both of them just below his nail.

"I learned that mistake a while ago. Actually had to go the hospital for that one, I cut right down to the bone, but at least I didn't cut them off," he smiled and made his way over to the refrigerator.

Lightning swallowed, glancing at her own hand. "Have people?"

"Oh yeah, I've seen it happen before," Hope's muffled voice came from inside the fridge, and he returned with an arm full of vegetables, and set them down on the counter. He caught her horrified expression and let out a small laugh. "Don't worry; it was only when they weren't maintaining proper safety procedures. That or they weren't paying attention. You're safe with me." He gave her a small playful nudge to the arm.

"Huh," said Lightning as he set a knife down on her cutting board. I sure as hell hope so. Frowning, she picked up the knife, turning it over in her hand to examine it. Including the handle, it ran a little shorter than the length of her forearm out to her pinky.

"You know it's a good knife when it's balanced properly," he explained, and placed the part of the handle meeting the blade to balance on his finger. "Also, the metal should run all the way through the handle, it's called a full tang. Always used a forged steel blade—usually if the knife is stamped, it won't have a bolster. It's the thick part of the blade just before the handle. A good, sharp knife is the key to any kitchen. If it's dull, you're going to exert a lot more force and probably cut yourself. Not to mention any vegetable you cut will probably bruise."

"So I just… cut it?" She curled her fingers under, thumb resting on top of the handle.

"Don't hold it like that; it's not Excalibur—er, not like that either. Keep your finger off the top of the blade." Hope sighed, and moved in next to her, "Here, like this. The top of your hand is facing the ceiling; choke up your hand on the blade, pinching it between your thumb and forefinger. Think of it as an extension of your hand."

Lightning snorted, "We're not sword fighting."

"Yes, but you do want good control over it, as if you were," said Hope, and returned back to his cutting board. "Alright, now we're going to cut the top off of the onion, because if you notice," Hope grabbed the onion and tried to stand it up on its side, but the vegetable rolled the moment it was released. "Not a very stable thing to cut. You always want to have a base for whatever you're cutting. Hold the onion down, start with the back of the blade and pull toward you as you cut. This is a slice. You always want to go from the closest part of the blade to you ending at the tip." Lightning watched as he cut the top of the onion off, and discarded into a metal bowl set on the counter. "Also—scrap bowl. Very useful so you don't have a mess on the counter."

"I feel like I should be taking notes," she said, and rested the edge of the blade on her onion. She exerted not but a small amount of pressure and pulled back, the top of the onion slicing right off. Her eyes widened and she marveled at the blade. "These things really are sharp."

Hope nodded. "Yeah, they're Japanese forged steel. Made the same way they make samurai swords." He smiled and set the onion cut-side down on the board. "Okay, this time we're going to slice it in half one more time, but this time I want you to use a bear claw." He held out his hand in front of her and flexed his fingers into a claw-like shape. "Keep your fingers curled under so the knife can rest up against your knuckles, and keep your thumb back. It will prevent you from cutting your fingers off and also provide a guide for the knife. You're going to use your thumb and finger to feed the onion through the knife. The knife doesn't move, just the food." Hope sliced the onion in half again, and with the root facing left, he began slowly slicing the onion, and then readjusting his fingers to make a second slice—his left thumb pushing the food up and his hand rocking back and forth.

"Go slowly for now, but eventually-" He picked up his pace, Lightning's eyes widening as the knife flashed up and down rhythmically. "You'll get comfortable going much faster."

"Like those guys on Iron Chef," said Lightning. Hope looked up at her, puzzled. She swallowed, "Morimoto—he cuts things really fast. I couldn't believe how quickly they do that." Lightning curled her fingers under, resting her knuckles on the onion. "This feels weird." She began slicing the onion slowly, trying to mimic Hope's motions of readjusting the thumb to feed the onion through the blade.

"So, you've watched Iron Chef?" Hope asked as she finished cutting the onion down the root. Lightning nodded, not looking up from the delicate process, "Iron Chef America or Iron Chef Japan."

"America, I think," she said.

"Ah, well, I have to insist that you watch the original. Morimoto was also in that," Hope beamed. "We-I mean, I could lend you the DVDs sometime if you want."

She finished off the onion and glanced at him. "Sure." For a second, she wondered if he might have been trying to invite her over, but she quickly dismissed the thought. All men usually found her intimidating. If not, they would quickly learn. This guy doesn't seem scared. It was an odd though that floated into her mind and left her with a strange taste in her mouth.

Hope circled around her and picked up bits of onion, examining them. "Pretty good for your first time—try to keep your cuts a little more even."

Lightning's eyes narrowed, "You know, before today I never even picked up a kitchen knife."

"Or else you probably won't be here in the first place," he noted with a half-smile. "Come on; let me teach you how to dice."

Lightning spent the remainder of her time watching Hope show her different methods of cutting—after slicing and dicing, she had picked up a piece of paper and started making notes. Now she understood the name of the place: brunoise, it was a knife cut where you cubed the food to about three millimeters in size. You first had to julienne the vegetable, the name of their room, before you started the cut. Ultimately, you ended up with either cubes or sticks; it was different fancy names that confused her.

After knife skills, Hope put all the vegetables into a plastic container and they began to wash dishes, while he briefly explained sanitation. "Why did you save all those vegetables?" Lightning asked, accepting a bowl from him and began wiping it dry.

"Why would I waste it?" He continued scrubbing the wooden board down. "Lesson two: never waste anything. I'm using those leftovers for dinner." At the mention of dinner, Lightning felt hunger gnaw at her empty stomach, and cringed at the thought of going home and eating more instant noodles. Hope eyed her when she stopped drying, "Everything okay?"

"Why wouldn't it be?" She replied curtly and snapped her focus back to drying dishes.

"You got this look on your face." He opened his mouth slightly and his eyes became unfocused, forming a blank expression, "Something to that effect. You seemed so concentrated up until that point; it just looked out of place."

"It isn't any of your business," said Lightning sharply.

"I know…I was just asking," he reached his hand down into the sink and pulled the stopper, the water started to drain. "What were you thinking about anyways?"

"Tch," she scoffed, setting the last dish in the dish rack. Lightning wrinkled her nose, "I don't get why you're so...I was just, thinking about dinner when you mentioned it."

Hope laughed, much to Lightning's annoyance. "I can't get how you'd get so defensive about that. It's just dinner." She felt a steady anger building in her, a vein throbbing in her temple at his obnoxious grin.

"For you maybe, but you don't succumb to eating Chinese take-out and cup noodles and frozen pizza every night for dinner because you can't cook for yourself. And now it's going to just be cup noodles because I lost my job-" Lightning covered her mouth with her hand, a heat spreading to her cheeks. She bit down hard on her lip to the point where she tasted blood. Damn it. Damn it. I can't just believe I said that, damn it.

"Hold on—you lost your job?" Hope repeated to confirm what she had let slip out. Lightning turned away from him, furious with herself. She had now opened herself up to endless questions which she had no intention of answering.

"I'll go now," Lightning mumbled. She un-tied her apron, tossing it over a chair and picked up her belongings, leaving Hope staring at her with his mouth open.

"You-hey, wait a second," he rushed to the doorway, blocking her from escaping. Lightning glowered, attempting to size him up, but he had a good head-height on her.

"Move," she commanded, trying to push his arm out of the way. It wouldn't budge.

"Could you wait a minute?"

"Either you move or I'm going to make you move," she snapped, attempting again to shove him aside. "I don't have time for this. I only came here because my sister begged me to, when I should have been-" she was about to say 'job-hunting', but caught herself this time. Lightning already had enough of this—she didn't need some kid prying into her personal life when it didn't need it.

"Are you even coming back?" he asked, staring her down with his bright green eyes.

"Don't think so," she huffed and jammed her elbow into his stomach. He doubled over and she stomped out the room.

"So that's it then?" He called out to her. "You're just giving up?"

Lightning stopped, "If you're going to keep asking me about my personal problems, then yes. It ends now." She heard his footsteps treading down the hall, and he soon caught up to her.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but you were the one who told me that you got laid off," he said.

"I wouldn't have if you hadn't asked what was wrong," she snapped.

"Look," he grabbed her by the shoulders and turned her around. "I'm sorry I pried—it wasn't any of my business." He avoided her eyes and let go of her shoulders, rubbing the back of his neck. "I was wondering if maybe you wanted to join me for dinner."

Lightning's eyes narrowed, "You—Serah did try to set me up with you-"

"-No!" he interjected, frowning at her. "No, nothing like that at all." Hope sighed, wringing his hands. "You said you lost your job so I figured you might prefer eating something substantial, rather than instant ramen." Hope sighed. "You sure do jump to conclusions rather quickly."

"Trust is pointless. The instant you let someone closer than an arm's length in, something goes wrong" she lectured him. "Think about that the next time you decide to give that doe-eyed look to a complete stranger and invite them into your home."

"So, do you want come with me or not?"

"No."

She heard him sigh, "Are you coming back next week?"

It was a fair question, but Lightning really hadn't contemplated the answer for that. She wasn't prepared for a myriad of stupid questions regarding her private issues. Nor was she thrilled by the prospect of getting to know this strange pansy-boy chef, but the thought of eating frozen dinners and ramen for the next few months made her gag. If I stick around long enough, pick up a few things, I won't need to keep coming back. Yet despite the incident, Lightning felt that she had learned a few things from Hope.

"Yes," she finally answered him.

"Good," he responded. He ducked out of the hall back into the room and ran back out, handing her a box. "This is one of mine; I want you to borrow it and practice at home." Lightning halfheartedly accepted the knife and continued heading out the door.

"So can I at least bring you something to eat?"

"Whatever," she called back. Lightning exited Brunoise and sighed, staring down at the box in her hands. She hadn't been this agitated in a while. It seemed like everything about this guy bothered her: his attitude, his stupid smile that reminded her of her sister's idiot of a husband, and the way he brushed off her insults like they hadn't even been said. She found herself angry, just because he hadn't become angry with her when she started pushing his buttons.

"Stupid kid," she mumbled to herself, treading down the dark towards the bus stop. After all that, he lends me his personal knife. It's probably worth a couple hundred dollars. How the hell can he just be so trusting like that? Lightning knew that it was people like Hope Esthiem who were shattered when something bad actually happened to them. He was probably the ignorant type of kid—loving mother and father, average sized social circle: no hardships, no heartache. It reminded her of how she used to be: careless, ignorant…happy—when she had been Claire, not Lightning. Perhaps that's why she found him so downright frustrating.

She reached the bus in time, the doors of the vehicle opening with a mechanical swish. Pushing aside the thoughts of the cooking lesson, she took a seat near the back of the bus and situated herself sideways to stare out the window.

Have to focus on the goal—have to get a job.

The ride home was relatively short, as was the walk from the bus stop to her apartment. Lightning sighed as she flipped on the lights and set Hope's knife on the ledge near her door before removing her shoes. She had left her hair pulled back and quickly removed that too, shaking her pink curls loose. They fell back into their usual spot over her left shoulder, sticking out at odd-angles from being held up by a hair tie for hours. Lightning tossed her keys into the ceramic bowl on her counter. It had been a birthday present from her niece last year, rather, Snow had paid for it and Rose had picked it out. The bowl was pink, with a picture of a cartoon penguin painted on. It looked entirely out of place in her apartments, but she couldn't bring herself to ever throw it out or give it away.

After raiding her mostly empty fridge, she sat down at her couch with laptop and her spoils, consisting of half a peanut butter sandwich and bruised up apple. Lightning adjusted herself on the couch, and stared down at her apple, then her eyes shifted over to the ledge where the knife sat.

Don't even think about it, she told herself. Lightning bit into her sandwich and flipped open her laptop, waiting as it hummed to life. I should be grateful I even had peanut butter in that fridge, let alone the bread wasn't moldy. Besides, what can you make with just one apple?

"So you can make apple sauce with just one apple," she sighed, unable to believe she had spent twenty minutes looking up a recipe online. It looked like a relatively simple one that used only apples, water, sugar and cinnamon. There was even a calculator on the website that allowed her to downsize the recipe to one serving. So instead of sending out more resumes, she was now standing at the counter in her kitchen with a recipe taped to cabinet door. There were only two pans in her cabinet, one of which actually had a lid as well as a set of old measuring spoons Serah had left at her apartment a long while ago. The inside of the pan was covered in a fine layer of dust and had to be washed first. Lightning was also surprised to find cinnamon sitting in her near empty spice rack, buried behind salt, pepper, red pepper flakes, and garlic powder.

Once she set everything next to her stove, she placed the pan on top and read the directions out loud, "In a sauce pan, combine all ingredients over medium heat. Cover and cook for fifteen to twenty minutes. Allow to cool, then mash with a fork or potato masher." Lightning looked down at her array of ingredients and back to the recipe, "sounds easy enough."

She measured out the ingredients, but not before consulting with her computer as to what 'TSP' and 'TBSP' stood for. Lightning stared down at the knife, which she had removed from the box. The only cutting board at her apartment wasn't much wider than a foot, and she never had used it before. It was also made from plastic—not like the wooden ones she used in class.

"Well." she stared at the apple, trying to figure out how to cut it. "It needs a base." She cut the top of the apple and set down on the cutting board, like she had with the onion, cutting it in half again. Crap, there are seeds in apples. She looked back to the recipe, in hopes of some instruction. And I forgot to peel it first. Ugh. Lightning started to pull open random drawers, unable to find any sort of vegetable peeler. I guess I could cut the peel off…She picked up the knife again, carefully cutting close to the peel until she had reduced the apple to three-fourths its original size. Lightning sighed and did similarly with the seeds, cutting that part of the apple off until she couldn't see them anymore. As she worked on the second half, her fingers slipped and she nicked the tip of her finger.

Lightning cursed under her breath, grabbing the nearest towel and pressing it against her open wound to stop the bleeding. She maneuvered over to the bathroom, swearing again when she stumbled over her laptop bag and kicked the door open, running her finger under water as she rummaged around for a bandage.

"Okay, cooking without supervision—bad idea," Lightning grumbled and patched up her cut two minutes after it decided to stop bleeding. She returned to the kitchen, the apple on the cutting board mocking her. What a waste time. Probably should have just eaten the damn thing in the first place. She picked up a half of the apple, about to bring it to her mouth when she sighed and placed it down on the cutting board. With knife in hand, she attempted the seed thing once more.

After not so successfully dicing the apple into misshapen pieces, she placed them in the pan, put the lid on, and turned on her stove. The stove clicked several times before a huge burst of flames exploded from the burner, causing her to jump back. Taking a deep breath she drew back to her place, turning down the heat.

"Okay, don't burn," she glared at the pan, and started to run water for dishes. Between washing, she frequently checked on the apples to make sure they were not turning into charred black bits. The twenty minutes dragged on, but at last, Lightning removed the pan from the stove and opened the lid.

"Ouch," she withdrew her hand, shaking it where the steam burner her fingers. Well, at least they aren't burnt. Once cool, she removed the apples from the pan and put them in a bowl, mashing them up with a fork. Lightning put the fork in the sink and brought the bowl of apple sauce back to her couch.

"Not bad." She took another spoonful. It was a little too sweet, but that was probably because she shaved the apple down to half its size. That aside, it was the first time in her life she had actually cooked something successfully. Unfortunately it didn't last more than a few bites, and paired with the sandwich, it left her still very hungry.

Guess I'm having ramen, Lightning sighed and finished filling out another work application before closing her laptop. A knock at the door disrupted her thoughts and she, turned her head, wondering if she had been hearing things. Another knock followed. She set her computer down on her coffee table and walked up to her door to open it.

It had started to rain again, but there was no one outside. She shivered, taking a few steps forward to look around, until her foot brushed up against something. Looking down, there was a plate covered in foil with a note fixed to it. She bent down and read the note as she brought the plate inside.

Light,

Didn't exactly get a straight answer from you, but here's some left over pasta and a dinner roll. Thought you might like it. See you next Friday,

Hope

P.S. I only know your house address because Serah gave me your contact information, Believe me it's more awkward for me than it probably is for you.

Lightning shut the door behind her, and re-read the note twice. The plate was still warm; it couldn't have been long since he dropped it off. She pulled back the foil ever so slightly, the smell of onions and tomatoes reminding her of how hungry she actually was. I guess he wasn't joking when he asked if he could drop off some food later.

When Lightning sat down again, she picked up a fork and started to eat: bow-tie pasta in a creamy red sauce with chicken, bell peppers and onions. The sauce was buttery and rich, but had a slight tang to it. Lightning smiled, savoring the sweetness of the tomato on her tongue. She finished the entire plate, including the flakey soft bread roll.

Well, he may be an idiot, but he sure knows how to cook. Lightning sighed, staring at the packet on her table. She picked it up, and read the first page, then reached for her phone.

"Hello?"

"Uh…" Lightning's voice trailed off. "It's Light."

"Oh," Hope's voice was rather surprised. "How's it going?"

"I wanted to um, thank you. For the food that is," she felt her cheeks burn.

"No problem."

"See you Friday," she said and hung up, clutching her forehead. I have no idea why I did that. But the food had been delicious and she had been hungry. The last person to drop homemade food off at her house was Serah, and that had been a long time ago.

"Well, better get back to work."

XXXXXX

I apologize if the chapter seemed a bit choppy; will do better on the next one. By the way, making gumpaste flowers is not as easy as I thought it would be. So hopefully you enjoyed this chapter. See you next time.