A/N: Hope everyone is having a great holiday season! Here's an early present!
Hope you enjoy and review!
Reviewers -
almost stupid – Nothing was misleading. I was only kidding. I'm glad you're enjoying this fic and I hope to not make one of your three mistakes, but I can't make any promises. I'll do my best, so we shall see.
Justy – Thank you for the review!
SnowHeiress – Sorry for the wait :)
Cris – Glad I could make your day! My reviewers make mine.
The candle flickered in the dark. Hope sat in the center of his room, adorned in the suit meant for his final goodbye to his mother. Alexander laid beside him, head between his paws, as he gave his human the comfort of his presence.
Hope stared into the small flame, trying not to think of how his mother's service was going. He could picture the church, such a grand place that used to give his mother such peace, the place that she used to call her second home, empty and devoid of life. The only person there to see her off, to say their goodbyes and wish her well, was the one person she'd died trying to get away from.
It turned his stomach knowing that it wasn't what she would have wanted. It certainly wasn't what she deserved. She had been a woman full of life. She'd lived every day to the fullest, facing both friends and enemies with nothing but kindness. So many people adored her. Her funeral should have been filled with those people. She should have gotten to say goodbye. She should have gotten that closure.
Instead all she got was him. A man who was as worthless a husband as he was a father. But even after everything that had happened, after everything his father had put her through, he still loved her. At least his mother had one person to be there for her, and at least he loved her.
After his father had yelled at him, told him that a murderer could never attend their victim's funeral, and locked him up inside, Hope made do with what he had. He took one of his cinnamon roll candles, one his mom had made in her old crafting days, and lit it on a table in his room. A picture of his mother sat by its side, held within the nicest frame he could find. It was a picture of when she was younger, her hair long and her smile tired, but unmistakably full of glee. She had once said that it was her favorite picture of herself, even with her swollen belly.
"I'm sorry, mom. I hope that this is enough. I just wanted… I wanted to say goodbye, so…" His last words wouldn't come. He'd wanted so badly to say his last goodbyes to his mother before her spirit left the world. Now, he realized he couldn't. Goodbye was not what he wanted. And it wasn't what he would give.
"I'm going to put the groceries up before I check on Lightning, okay? Why don't you just set your bags down and rest on the couch? You're looking a little pale."
Snow took his bags into the kitchen and left Hope on his own in the living room. The teen stood there, at a loss of what to do.
It was official. He was staying with Lightning. But this knowledge, this certain fact, didn't make it feel any more real. He still felt like a stranger within someone else's home. Someone else's life. He still felt like a dirty little leech sucking the kindness from people he didn't deserve. Had he really been stupid enough to think that this was alright? That morning he'd accepted his place within Lightning's home. But now all he wanted was to go home. To go where he belonged.
He couldn't. As Snow had so nicely pointed out, he had no real home to go back to anymore. Only a death sentence awaited him. And going back would be a disrespect towards both Lightning and Alexander. His dog had put his life on the line to save him. Lightning was willing to go through so much to help him. He couldn't leave now, no matter how much he felt like he'd earned that spot at his father's feet.
Wiping the sweat from his brow, Hope sat on the couch, hand on his aching side as it pained him greatly. He was coming down with a fever, but he didn't feel the need to do much about it. Some shuffling pulled his attention over to the entrance of the kitchen. Hope jumped up from the couch as Snow entered with an unconscious Lightning in his arms. "Is she okay?!"
Snow nodded, a fond smile crossing his lips even as concern creased his face. "I found her at the table. She probably couldn't sleep and worked until she passed out. Happens more often than I'd like, but what can I do? Nothing stops her." The large man shrugged, cradling his sister closer to his chest. The look of panic on Hope's face was comforting. It was good to know that the kid cared about Lightning's well-being as much as she seemed to care about his. "I'm going to go put her upstairs. You should rest, too."
"I'm fine, really. I think I'm going to stay up until the vet calls again."
"Okay. Just sit tight, then."
He watched as Snow turned away, ascending the stairs with precious cargo in hand. Lightning looked so worn out in his arms, and Hope realized that maybe she was in need of some help, too.
Hope went to sit back down on the couch but a stack of mail half-hazardly strewn across the end table caught his attention first. He took a moment to collect them, his eyes scanning the exterior of the envelopes and a few of the open letters before his brain could think better of the action. The bulk of them were bills, and Hope frowned down at the urgent lettering that marked them. The depth of her debt was obvious by those few statements alone. It left him feeling worse than before.
"I don't think she wanted you to know about those." Hope faced Snow as he came back down. "But I suppose it's alright. It isn't a reality she can hide from forever."
"Why is she so behind? What happened?"
"Serah died. That's what happened."
Such a blunt statement left Hope stunned. He'd said it as easily as if they had been discussing the weather. The teen could tell by the look on Snow's face that he was surprised by his own clipped detachment as well.
The man slumped down onto the bottom step of the stairs, his posture making him seem so much smaller than his true stature should have allowed. A gloved hand came to his forehead, resting there as he studied the floor. "It's about time we face that. Serah's gone. There isn't anything that's going to bring her back. All we're doing is living like time's stopped. But as you can see from those statements in your hand, time could never be so kind as to stop for the bereaved."
Hope knew that all too well. There had been many times where he'd wished to just carve out his own little space in the world, untouched by the ugliness of people and time, just so he could grieve freely and completely. But grief was never really complete, was it? It always sat there, slowly getting smaller, until only faint, but indestructible traces remained to prick you every time you thought you were okay. He'd had a friend die once. The remnants of their death still lingered there, still pained him when he thought about that past. He vaguely wondered how long it would be until his grief for his mother transformed into the same small scar, instead of the gaping wound it still was. How long would it be until he could think about his mom and not feel like crying? Like slinking away until the world passed on? Was that what Snow was going through? Lightning, too?
"Lightning quit shortly after she died. She couldn't work in that condition. So lost and distracted. Before Serah got sick, she was like the terminator," Snow added with a laugh. "Nothing could stand before her and live long after the encounter. They called her The Goddess of Death. That's how ruthless she was. But after…"
Hope thought back to the Lightning he'd heard about. The soldier that was as icy as they came. He'd heard about her skills from Serah, and even from some of the children of other military personnel around the block. How she could take on a whole squadron alone better than a team of veteran soldiers. How her presence alone could command an entire fleet. How she had been one of the only survivors of one of the most notorious missions during the quest for a treaty with the Pulsian populace. All of those stories fit into one cohesive form of a stone cold killer, a life meant only for the battlefield.
But that didn't fit with the Lightning he knew now. He thought back to her swinging at his side, sitting beside him on his doorstep, bonding with his dog, yelling at him to get help, bandaging up his wounds, caring about him when no one else did. She was a human being. She got angry when she was mad and wept when she was sad. She was fragile enough to fall apart when she lost someone she loved, but strong enough to help someone else survive even when she herself was struggling to do the same.
The Goddess of Death. What a nasty name. Even just thinking those words made him feel disgusted with himself. He could only wonder what kind of impression that title had left on Lightning.
Snow shook his head. "So without any income or pension, she doesn't have anything to pay off Serah's medical bills. They just keep growing. Lousy assholes. All they care about is money," he growled. "They don't give a damn about who they're taking it from."
The envelopes crinkled loudly in his palms, and it was only then that he realized that his grip on them had grown to be so tight. "Is there any way we can help?"
Snow smiled softly, but gave a gruff huff in annoyance. "I've tried, but she won't accept anything. I even tried to pay off a bill behind her back, but… when threatening me with violence didn't work to stop me, she threatened to go off her meds if I even touched another bill of hers."
"So?" Hope spoke, a little irritated by the fact that this problem had been allowed to fester into an even worse one. "She could lose everything she owns. Her car. Her house. Owing this much money is a big deal."
"So is her medication. I don't think-" Emotion glazed over his eyes, a despair beyond words capturing his visage. "I don't think she'll last without them…"
Hope shut his eyes tightly, as if he could block out the images that sentence inspired. Suicidal Lightning. Gone Lightning. Dead Lightning. He understood the predicament now.
A light ringing in Hope's pocket, accompanied by one in Snow's, pulled him out of the horrific, waking nightmare his mind had produced. Snow answered his phone as he disappeared into the next room. With a quick breath, he drew up his own, his strict frown softening into a cautious smile at the ID on his phone.
"This is Hope Estheim."
"Hello, this is Marielle from the Veterinary Care Hospital calling about Alexander Estheim."
"Is he okay?"
"He's doing great, actually. His hip surgery went well. Dr. Verret was able to get all of his hip bone fragments out and the rejoining and stitching went well. We have to let his body rest for a couple of days before we can operate again, but we already have his next surgery scheduled. Alexander is sleeping off the anesthesia right now, but he should be awake in about an hour. You can come see him if you like."
He felt his heart jump into his throat at the suggestion. Oh, how he wished to see him, to hold his giant, fluffy body in his arms and know that he was alive. Truly, wholly alive. But how would he get there? He couldn't ask any more from Lightning or Snow. They'd done too much for him already. And could he really face his dog after what had happened? Knowing that Alexander was in this mess because of him. Could he really pop in to see him, and then turn around and abandon him to strangers once again?
"H-how is he?" he asked tentatively, a strange fear coiling in his gut.
The woman's voice was very warm, honest in a way that soothed easily. "He's such a sweet dog. I haven't spent too much time with him personally, but everyone here is smitten with him. You've got quite the charmer for a pooch. And he's strong. He's seen through the worst of this."
He sucked in a sharp breath and chuckled. "Thank you. Please tell Dr. Verret thank you, too. Keep me updated, please."
"We will. Do think about coming in."
"I will." He hung up the phone before his guilt could grow any worse. He tossed the phone onto the couch, away from himself, like the device was responsible for the vicious hook left in his heart and not his own actions. He turned away from it as Snow's voice reentered the room seconds before his body did.
"I'm going to have to go out for a bit." Snow made it to the door, his hand hovering over the doorknob, a familiar form of hesitation stilling his limbs. "I know this is a lot to ask, but look out for her, alright? She won't want you to, but do it anyway."
He found himself nodding automatically. "Of course."
"I shouldn't be gone too long. Get some rest. I'll be back."
With one last tentative glance back, Snow left, his heavy footfalls trailing off into silence. Hope fell back into the couch cushions, uncaring towards the distinct shape of his phone beneath his thigh. He let his weight settle there, thoughts of his injuries, his responsibilities, his dog and his father falling to the background as he succumbed to the heat flushing beneath his skin. With Snow gone and Lightning asleep, there was no need to push himself to stay awake, to stay standing and act normal. He curled into himself and not even the vivid sting of his wounded side could keep him from unconsciousness.
When sleep claimed him, it was haunted. Echoes of memory twined with the all-too-real fears of the present, and captured him in their grip. Turbulent thoughts wound around him, strangling him with every old image and every past horror, dragging him deeper into an abyss he could no longer see out of. He struggled, he always did, but no matter how he fought, the chaotic darkness only continued to surround him, binding him to a promised emptiness. Only when he had finally lost all hope of escaping did the savage tendrils retreat back to whence they came, leaving him there alone with nothing but an inky blackness to return to.
It was cold down there. At the bottom of nothing. Where even the sound of his own heartbeat was lost to him.
In the quiet stillness he was left to wonder
if he could ever escape
or only endure
A pained shout started him awake, his body jolting with enough force that he almost fell from the couch. The clouded fog left his eyes as they came to take in their surroundings. The couch beneath his body, the beveled mirror on the wall across from him, the brown door in the corner, the faint scent of lavender in the air. Right, I'm at Lightning's. A calm current ran through his body, soothing his ragged breaths and assuaging his racing mind.
Another sharp, but distant cry had him jumping up from his position a little too soon as the interior of Lightning's house began to waver in front of his eyes. But he put one foot in front of the other, walking as fast as the spinning room would allow, until he was finally racing up the creaky stairs and standing in front of Lightning's door. He stopped momentarily, weighing privacy against protection. He chose the latter.
With a rush of air that stemmed from a feeling of immense relief, he came to find that it was only Lightning's dreams that were paining her. Lightning was tossing and turning, her sleep just as marred as his had been, apparently. Hope made his way over to her bed, steps cautious as a wave of uncertainty overcame him. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to do. Leave her be? Wake her up? Find a way to comfort her dormant consciousness?
There had to be something. He'd been cared for and looked after by her and she'd never asked him for anything in return. There had to be some way to repay her. With this in mind, he settled beside her on the bed, first only watching as tremors shook her body, as her brow knotted and a frown curled her lips. Her fist was tight beside her head, locked in self-protection, in anger or fear. He swallowed as he put his own hand on hers, gently guiding the fingers of her fist apart. It was difficult. Sleeping Lightning was just as strong as awake Lightning, it seemed. But he managed, soon twining their fingers together in a loose hold.
"It's alright, Lightning. Everything's fine." He had no idea what her nightmares pertained to, or if anything truly was or ever could be fine. But the words spilled forth out of a desperate desire to help. "I'm here." He grasped her hand tighter, taking note of her clammy, sweat slicked skin as he lightly swept the bangs from her eyes. "I'm right here."
Her deeply perturbed features relaxed, the tension relieved from her brow as her face fell into a tranquility he had never witnessed on the elder Farron. Her own hold tightened on his, and he felt almost just as comforted by the gesture. He stayed there as she quieted, relieved by the easy rise and fall of her chest.
He wondered if anyone else ever saw her this way, any of those people that so callously called her the Goddess of Death. If they had ever witnessed this fragility, this vulnerable side she kept hidden. This softness sealed behind hard edges and steely determination.
His eyes fell to the delicate link keeping them connected and he was suddenly overcome by a feeling filling within his breast. A raw and unadulterated emotion clawed at his heart, unrelenting in its pursuit as it attacked him over and over. It scared him, such a persistent, oppressive feeling that he couldn't recognize or even name. It left him feeling breathless, like he'd been holding his breath beneath a heavy ocean tide until he was finally allowed air. It was frightening, but also sort of exhilarating. So new, so pure, Hope found himself coming to accept this odd emotion, and even liking it.
He could feel her pulse through their contact. Strong, but quiet. He held onto that rhythmic beat, his own heart falling into step, almost as if it were dancing to the calm thrum. It was unlike anything he had ever felt before. There was a strong tug, magnetic in its pull, that brought him a little closer to Lightning. He wanted to know more, feel more. If Lightning were awake, would she have felt it too? Could she now, even as her mind was lost in listless dreams and blankness?
Before Hope could explore any more of this curious pull drawing him to her, one word escaped Lightning's lips that instantly disintegrated the tenuous connection holding them together.
"Serah…"
He instantly let go of her hand, now all too aware of the space around him and the strange intentions his mind had conjured up. Standing up, he took a step back, grateful that the roseate remained sleeping despite his hurried movements. He looked down at her, this beautiful woman that held such a complicated and mysterious history. He wanted to know her, help her. But he was just a stupid kid that couldn't even help himself. He had no right to those wants. He just had to get better, get Alexander better, and then he would leave Lightning's life. He would leave, and that would be the end of it.
The rain smacked against the glass as she drove, the sound accompanied by the intermittent squeak of her windshield wipers. It was quiet within the car, a little too quiet for her liking. Hope hadn't spoken to her the whole ride, hadn't since she'd gotten up. Not even during breakfast or as she'd helped to clean and conceal his injuries, besides a word of gratitude here and there. She figured there was just stuff on his mind, which would have been understandable, or maybe he was just nervous. That didn't explain why he wouldn't look at her, though. That was telling all on its own.
She parked in the visitors' lot and as Hope reached for the handle, bag held tight in front of him and seconds from bolting out of the car, she hit the car lock on her door, barring him from escape. "Something wrong, Hope?" He flinched. Another tell that had her turning towards him more in her seat.
"I'm going to be late," he mumbled, eyes staring out at the throng of students entering the school doors.
"Hey," she said, her voice falling into its old commanding tone. Hope finally looked over at her, but it was brief, a minor meeting of their eyes before his gaze fled back out the window. "Is it the pain? Alexander? Your dad? You don't have to go to school today, you know. We can come up with something."
"I just…" There were a lot of things that were wrong. He had too much swirling around in his mind and he wished to share none of it with Lightning. "I just want to go to school." Like a normal kid. He could see all of his peers laughing with their friends outside, all blissfully going about their normal lives like normal people. He envied that. Life hadn't been normal for him in a long time. And there he was, make-up and bandages barely containing his secrets while he hid away from his father by taking advantage of his neighbor's kindness.
"If you ever need to talk about something, I'm here." Hope tensed up even more, and she felt a spark of agitation flare up in response. Something was wrong, very, very wrong, and her worry was beginning to surge into an uncomfortable anger. Before she could bark at him to just get a grip and talk to her, she slammed her hand down on the lock, setting him free. He ran out as soon as the bolt clicked back, and then he was gone, the door slamming in his wake.
She sat back in her seat, watching as he was engulfed in the crowd. She didn't know why she cared to pay his odd behavior so much thought. She was confused, and more than a little hurt by his lack of attention. That only caused her to be confused even more. He doesn't owe you anything. Least of all an explanation. Just be patient. He'll get over it. I think.
"But still." Sinking farther down in her chair, Lightning felt a tingling sensation ripple quietly beneath her palm. She stared down at it, eyes roving over the skin, nearly expecting something to emerge from beneath. It was the same feeling she'd woken up to. There was a distant, but distinct impression that lingered beneath the skin of her hand.
She shook it off, driving back home as she continued to question her new house guest's actions.
Hope maneuvered his way through the halls, avoiding eyes and ears and evading any accidental bumps or brush-ups. When he made it to his homeroom with three minutes to spare, he slipped into one of the last seats in the back row. Content to go unnoticed he made himself small, pulling out a book to flit through as everything went on around him.
He could do this. Nobody would notice him. Nobody could see beneath the thin veneer of calm that was keeping him together.
The bell rang and their teacher spoke from the front of the classroom, welcoming them back and going over the usual rules and expectations, everything a near rendition of the year prior for the new and returning students. He tuned most of it out, along with the idle chatter of his peers, as he focused on the day that laid ahead. It was no offense to Mr. Katzroy. The man was a good teacher who seemed to genuinely care for his students. But he just couldn't focus on anything but the quick pace of his heart and the constant mantra going through his head to hide, conceal, act calm but be on guard.
He made it through the duration of class without incident and was relieved as the bell rang to signify its end. He just had to do this five more times and survive through lunch. He had nearly made it out the door behind the rest of his classmates when he was stopped by an unexpected call.
"Hey, Hope. Mind if we speak for a minute?"
Hope stopped abruptly, his shoes squeaking in protest against the linoleum floor. Attempting to shrug off the anxiety beating in his chest, he turned around as casually as he could, striding quickly over to his teacher's desk. "Not at all, but I don't want to be late to my next class, Mr. Katzroy."
"You kids. How many times do I gotta tell ya to just call me Sazh? And if I'm not mistaken, your next class is right down the hall. Don't worry, I won't keep ya too long."
"Yeah, sorry, Mr. Sazh." The older man rose a brow. Hope jumped to correct himself. "Ah, I mean Sazh."
"No problem." He sat back in his chair, eyes falling to the splint on his fingers and then coming back up to look at the scabbed over lip. "Another accident?"
Hope started, before biting his lip to calm himself down. You can do this. It's just your homeroom teacher. You've slid under his radar plenty of times before.
Yeah, but you weren't sleeping at a neighbor's house and awaiting a call from an animal surgeon because you fucked up so badly. He's going to see. He's going to know.
"Yeah, I… just a car accident… while we were on vacation."
His eyes turned sympathetic, and Hope felt even more pathetic and undeserving of such an emotion for his lies. "That can't have been easy. Especially after the last one-"
"You know I've really got to get going. I kind of wanted to spend the first few minutes before class getting to know my teacher and all." More lies. What hurt worse was how easy it was for him to say them.
The man pursed his lips, staring at him for a few tense seconds before a faint grin came back to his features. "Alright then. Just let me know if I can help with anything, alright? That's what I'm here for."
Hope let himself relax. "Of course. Will do." He turned to leave, his thoughts already on the rest of the day. Maybe it's not going to be so hard, after all.
"Oh, and let your father know that I'd like to see him. We never did have that conference last year."
He froze in the doorway, not daring to look back as he knew how transparent his expression had become. "O-Okay," he answered, somewhat unsteadily.
"I already sent him an email, but he's never been known to answer those things in the past."
"Got it." He walked away, steps on autopilot as his mind whirled with the consequences of such a simple message. People blurred out, becoming distorted, smudgy images in his peripheral vision. All sound slowly faded until it died completely and only his harsh breaths were reflected back at him. The hallway fell away and Hope came to a stop at one thought.
He's going to come here.
The idea had already been present in his thoughts. He had envisioned his father standing there at the doors to the school before he had even made it inside. The man just waiting there for him to show up, knowing that it was the one place his son would definitely be. Hope had found it curious that he hadn't been there.
Until he considered that his father might decide to wait until he knew for a fact that he was at school. That he might wait to get the phone call announcing that his son had missed the day and when that call didn't come, he'd know to be there to pick him up afterward. A shiver ran down his spine as he thought about walking out those front doors and seeing that face seething with anger and hatred.
But now it wasn't just a possibility. Even if he didn't show up that day, he would have to come soon. If he didn't, it would draw even more attention than his horrid lies or the splint on his finger. He dreaded seeing his father, but he dreaded everyone knowing even more. They would all find out. His teachers, his classmates, their parents, the town. They would all know what a horrible person he was. That he'd been lying to everyone he knew for two whole years. That he was a bad son that couldn't follow his father's most basic expectations. That he'd committed the ultimate sin and led his mother to her death.
He felt the wind get knocked out of him as he was suddenly on the floor. For a horrifying moment, he thought the man was already there. That he'd already come for him. He was going to punish him right there in the hallway with everyone there to bear witness to the just retribution inflicted upon his tainted soul.
"I said what the fuck do you think you're doing?!"
But it wasn't his father. He was jerked forward off the ground, held up by a tight fist at the collar of his shirt. The world around him came back into focus and he came to recognize his new attacker.
"You think you can just trip me up and get away with it, Estheim? I thought you learned your lesson last time."
Of course it would be Jensen. I just had to knock into one of the most notorious bullies in our school. Tremendous.
"What? Aren't you gonna fight back? Or are you gonna cower at my feet like last time?"
Hope braced himself as he was shoved back into the lockers behind him, one lock digging into the center of his back. He didn't dare respond. He knew from experience that there was nothing he could say to get himself out of these situations. His father, after the first time Hope had come home with bruises he didn't recognize, had told him to fight back. That he wasn't a real man if he couldn't defend his body, let alone his pride. But how was he supposed to fight back against someone that had a good three inches on him and forty more pounds of muscle? What was the point?
"Why don't you beg?" The larger teen got in his face, his grin almost sadistic in its glee. His fist was so tight on his shirt that his knuckles dug into Hope's collar bone. "Beg me to forget about your worthless existence and maybe I'll let it slide."
He wasn't going to beg. He wasn't that pathetic. He would just avert his eyes and turn away. He'd fold himself into the corners of his mind until it was over.
But then a voice shot out from his memory, reminding him that ignoring his situation helped no one either. "…it can give others the idea that they have power over you…"
"You have to change, Hope. Or this'll be your life - loneliness and despair..."
Hope's eyes widened before he raised his head and gave the other boy a sound glare. "No."
Jensen's smirk fell before his features twisted with anger. "What did you just say to me?! I don't think I heard you right."
"I said," Hope grabbed onto Jensen's wrist and looked him straight in the eye, "No."
Silence.
The halls around them quieted. He could only imagine all of the people that were now witnessing their little scuffle. But he paid them no mind. All of his attention, all of his thinly built defiance, all of his fear, was trained on the bully before him.
"You're going to regret that, dweeb." He pulled his fist back, only to have someone grab it from behind him. Jensen was jerked back and Hope fell from his hold, the smaller teen's body slamming down onto the linoleum.
"I think that's enough!"
Hope peeked up from his place on the floor to see who had stepped in. It wasn't anyone he knew or recognized, and the teen looked quite out of place. His clothes were noticeably different with odd tribal patterns and a foreign script across his back.
"Why don't you mind your own business?!"
"I am. You're in front of my locker," the new boy countered. "So why don't you take this somewhere else. Or better yet, find someone your own size to pick on."
Jensen grit his teeth in response, tightening the fist at his side like he was tempted to hit the newcomer. The other student noticed, but didn't back down. Instead he tilted his head and rose an amused brow, unimpressed at the challenge.
"Tch. Not even worth it." Jensen relaxed his stance. He glanced down at the floor, sneering down at the silveret. "Later, loser." He then continued on his way, shoving past the unknown student and the spectators around them.
Hope watched him walk away, not letting his guard down until he was out of sight. A hand soon obstructed his view, however, startling him as he sat up. Wary green eyes met deep blue as the student that had interfered knelt before him. "Need some help up?"
"Thanks, but I'm alright." He stood up slowly, mindful of his side that had taken the brunt of the fall. He was lucky Lightning had bandaged it so well that morning. He didn't feel like bleeding out in front of a bunch of his peers. "And thank you."
"That's not necessary. You, uh," The teen gave a short chuckle as he rubbed the back of his neck. "You really are in front of my locker."
Hope's eyes widened as he jumped out of the way. "Oh! I'm so sorry!"
"Hey, it's really alright. It's not like it's your fault."
"I guess not…"
"Actually," the brunet began, expression sheepish, "since you're here, maybe you can do me a favor. I haven't been able to get this thing open all morning." He flicked the lock of his locker in annoyance. "Probably should have paid more attention to Yeul when she was talking about it…" he murmered, more to himself than Hope.
"Sure. What's your combo?"
The teen simply blinked back at him. "…My what?"
Hope laughed. Not used to lockers, I suppose. "The code to get the locker open," he clarified.
"Oh. Right. 15-7-22."
The silveret nodded, turning back to the lock and taking it in hand. His fingers moved with a practiced ease until it snapped open. "There. You've just got to remember right, left, right, and to go all the way around before the second number." When the other's face scrunched up in displeasure, Hope shrugged. "Or you can cheat and just replace it with a key lock."
"Yeah, I might just do that. Thanks, man," he replied, clapping Hope on the shoulder.
Hope winced, but quickly covered it with a smile. "It was nothing." His eyes swept the halls as he noticed just how thinned out the crowd was. "Crap! I've got to get to class. It was nice meeting you!" He made to take off, but was stopped again by the other teen.
"Hey!"
Startled by the sudden, assertive tone, Hope spun back around. "Y-Yeah?"
"The name's Noel."
Heaving a relieved sigh, Hope's expression brightened. "Hope. See you!"
Noel watched him leave until he was out of sight, his mouth falling into a grim line as his brows furrowed.
"This is the one and only Snow Villiers! I can't get to the phone right now-"
"Ran away again, huh? Can't say I blame you." Lightning let her phone fall through her fingers, the device bouncing on the mattress beside her. After four calls, she figured it was about time to give it up. "Where do you even go?" She cast her gaze out her bedroom window, eyes trained on the house across from hers. "And at a time like this…"
There were times when Snow would disappear. It was a relatively new development that Lightning could easily guess at the cause of. It wouldn't last more than a few days, five at the most. Nothing for her to get concerned about. He would wander back after his time on his own and be the same old idiot she knew well. No lasting marks would be left from his time away, the only remnant of his sudden vacation would be a new light to his gaze, as if some of the darkness that resided there had been lifted. He was always calmer, more at peace. She never asked him where he went or what he did. She was curious, maybe a little jealous, maybe even a little vexed, but some part of her didn't want to know.
Brushing an errant strand of hair from her eye, she got up off of her bed and left the room. It was time to pick Hope up and she felt the pricks of agitation come back at her as she remembered their conversation that morning. Hope's mood had dampened her own and all she could think about was what might have caused him to be so withdrawn. She hoped his time at school had lifted his spirits some.
It hadn't.
He sat beside her in the car, just as silent as he was before. He was curled against the door, about as far away from her as he could get. Did he not trust her now? Had she done something to upset him? Why couldn't he speak to her? Why couldn't he look at her?
When she cut the engine behind her house, she let herself voice her concern. "Is Alexander okay? Did something-"
"He's fine."
A reply. Curt and a little rude, but it was a reply. "How fine?" The teen heaved a tired sigh, and she felt her agitation grow at his put out attitude.
"Surgery went through with no complications. He has his next in two or so days."
"Why aren't you more excited for him?" Surprise registered in his expression for a brief moment before a troubled look of contemplation took over.
"I… don't want to get my hopes up."
She could understand that. She knew how horrible it was to allow yourself to feel safe and happy, only for it all to be whisked away too soon. Only a fool fell for such traps. Her gaze fell down to her hands, her frail, useless hands that couldn't ever hang on to those she loved. They were forever stained with the blood of her family, marred by the wretched curse of loneliness and destruction. Her hands clenched into tight fists, nails digging into worn skin.
"I don't want…"
Lightning's hands loosened as she refocused on the young man beside her.
"I don't want this to be happening. I don't want Alexander to be hurting. I don't want my father to hate me. I don't-" want my mother to be gone…
"What do you want, Hope?" The rain began to fall again, lightly tapping against the car. Lightning focused on each drop as they struck the windshield, the water sliding down the cool glass to pool against her windshield wipers. Dwelling on what happened, on what he couldn't control, wouldn't help him. It wouldn't help either of them. Just like they couldn't stop the rain from falling, they couldn't go back and change the course their lives had taken. They had to face the present, and keep going.
"I just want to be free."
