A/N: Upped the rating for mature themes.

Chapter 14: Running and Hiding Will Only Get You So Far

Claire totally, absolutely had no idea why she found herself with a new nightly ritual of perusing through Holy.

And it wasn't as though it was even the whole book she was gravitating to. Only certain pages.

...That had now become a bit dog-eared due to how often she would look through them.

And because she had been keenly observing certain pages, she had become rather familiar with the subject of those pages and thus had come to notice when a certain model would appear in other pages. Especially the ones with the more risqué poses.

Page thirty-five, for example, was seemingly a continuation of page twenty-seven's theme—if it could even be called a theme—wherein the model's erected penis was slightly less in shadow and therefore was just a little bit more visible, with his hand resting close to where it lay on his belly, as though to reach for the boner. Knowing who it belonged to...Claire wouldn't say it rubbed her the wrong way. The opposite, in fact. But also knowing who was in the bedroom beside hers, she tried to be really quiet about it.

And then there were the pages where he was modeling with others. There was one where his front was hunched over someone's back, his hand splayed over a breast, the feathers from their wings covering their faces. She found herself faulting her imagination for running wild on that one with how easily it replaced the other model with herself, though it made her feel no less heated and certainly resulted in more rubbing and more moans stifled down with her pillow.

Claire concluded that the book had been misnamed: there was nothing holy about it at all since it filled her with nothing but sinful thoughts (and actions).

It made her feel awkward in the mornings when she watched Serah preparing for school for the day and it was all she could do to keep her expression as neutral and as guilt-free as possible.

Though she had come to rationalize it as nothing more than an activity that was performed for health reasons. She was an adult, after all, and there was nothing wrong with releasing sexual frustration.

It wasn't like she was interested in anyone in particular. The photographs were hot and they simply fueled a desire that she hadn't known she was capable of having until very recently.

And so it was that for the better part of the week following his absence, she found herself hanging out at House of Paddra's studio during her free time.

It wasn't like she was there waiting for any news of him or anything.

She was just curious about their business, and if she was really to think about making the decision to model for them, the best way to help her make that decision was to observe how they worked.

And so Claire came to learn a bit about how they transformed Yeul's sketches into an actual wearable garment, sometimes being coerced to model a work-in-progress garb simply to exhibit how the fabric was draping and accommodating the wearer's movements so they could see where they would need to modify the design or not.

On a Friday afternoon after her shift from Build-A-Moogle, Claire found herself accompanying them to an outlet centre to shop for fabrics in one of the biggest stores in the city. Yeul had been particular about the shade of mauve she wanted to use and had been scouring the nearby stores to no avail.

"Worse comes to worst," the young designer was saying as she examined a bolt of purple silk, "if we can't find it, we might end up resorting to dyeing the fabric instead. And even that's a gamble because we'll have to deal with splotches and unevenness, and then keeping the correct measurement of the dye to keep it consistent."

Claire didn't really get it, and voiced, "Why purple anyway?"

"Mauve," corrected Vanille with a smile on the other side of the rack, holding up what she found and waving it at Yeul, who looked up and shook her head.

"That's more pink," pointed out the Seeress, then turned back to address Claire. "Well, purple is the colour of royalty, right? We're just moving a step above it for more oomph."

Claire frowned. "So the colour you're looking for is still purple."

"I think we're edging a little closer to red, actually," Noel piped in his two cents, coming by with his find.

"Hmm." Yeul tilted her head as she pensively ran her eyes over Noel's fabric. "It's close to what I have in mind, but that's more burgundy."

"I don't really get it, but whatever," muttered Claire, deciding to make an effort in helping them look.

Purple, purple, she thought, scanning the various shades in front of her, now and then running her hand over the bolts of fabric, feeling their texture beneath her fingers. Due to her hanging out with the House of Paddra members, she had come to start to pay attention to fabrics: the various weaves of threads that formed them, the variegated thicknesses, whether they were sheer or stiff or stretchy, how they could be manipulated to achieve whatever effects the group was going for... Claire had to admit she was fascinated, having never really paid attention to her own clothes before, only viewing them as something that was part of the everyday. Like her hair before, she wore her clothes without really thinking much about them so long as they were serviceable, and the only few times she bothered to make an effort were the ones where she had to make herself somewhat presentable for jobs or job interviews.

But now, as with her hair, it was as though a whole new world had opened for her, rendering her aware of its existence. That there could be such care and deliberation over the colour purple, and that not just any shade would do was astounding to Claire. Her lips twisted wryly, realizing that she probably wouldn't really understand the full extent of it, but feeling nonetheless glad that she got to be part of the group that did.

She wandered on, bypassing other shoppers on their quest, now and then hearing the white noise of House of Paddra arguing amongst themselves. She meandered over the next aisle of purple, her roving eyes landing on a bolt of satin labeled "Colour: Aubergine" that made her cheeks flare with heat and crimson as she recalled page forty-eight of Holy where he was draped over a male model, their silver hair pooled on the whorls and waves of the similarly-coloured fabric in front of her—and their faces covered by their wings and feathers, of course.

In spite of herself, she found herself pulling the bolt, almost staggering as she hadn't expected a full roll of uncut fabric to be so heavy, managing to lay it over the other bolts on display. She ran her hand over the satin, the finish smooth against her palm and fingers, and briefly she entertained the thought of laying her head against it just to feel what it would be like, if she were the one he was draped over instead, before shaking her head and reprimanding herself for even having such a notion.

Get over it, Claire, she admonished herself, flushed and feeling shameful, hurriedly putting the fabric back in place.

What was happening to her? What had gotten over her?

Why would the thought of him have such an effect on her?

It wasn't like she liked him or anything – despite the flutter in her belly and the shiver that flickered down her spine that told her otherwise. Especially now, when the sound of his voice seemed to reverberate throughout her entire body, and she froze in place. He was a few aisles over, having made his way to where Yeul was perusing through more swaths of purple. Claire gulped, having half a mind to duck down and hide, feeling as though she didn't want him to see her while at the same time wanting him to turn and look and find her.

The week that flew by was the most exhausting Hope could ever remember. And by "exhausting", what he really meant was embarrassing and humiliating and made him wish he had never been created in a lab and/or had his parents bump their uglies, whichever version it was that led to him being given life. And being on a floating island, escape was impossible, unless he really wanted to jump off and fly through the air and just hope it was the sea he eventually landed on after that meteoric fall. Time spent with his grandmother was usually fun and educational, but this time around he couldn't really call it that. It was enough for him to begin to dread spring and their yearly trip to Luxerion, feeling as though he'd had enough of his grandmother's company for the rest of the incoming years, regardless of whether or not that company came in her actual corporeal body or a hologram.

The questioning had been relentless after that first day. And it didn't help that no further epistaxis had occurred for the duration of his stay, to no one's surprise. Lucrecia, together with Shalua, prescribed a healthy dose of intercourse after he had been forced to reveal that he hadn't had any since Cornelia's departure from his life the year prior. As with the Nora-voice thing, he hadn't noticed that it had been that long, and the only thing Hope had been thankful about was that nobody commented about the correlation of his sex drive with the Nora-voice thing, although he could tell it was on the forefront of everyone's minds. Lucrecia only cited something that sounded stupid to Hope about how, since it had been quite a while for him, the sight of Lightning in sexy catgirl attire rendered his blood to run north instead of south, blah blah blah (he had tuned her out by this point).

The rest of the week had been spent with the attempt at relaxation in mind by utilizing the various amenities offered on their island. Soaking in the hot spring was nice. Hiking through the surface of the island as well as through its underground caverns provided good exercises, and he even made it to where Lucrecia's body was actually located. Visiting the nearby Skycity of Bhujerba, taking in the sights and the culture, and even going on a guided tour of the parts of the Marquis's Palace that were open to the public were very welcome distractions—but at the end of each day Hope was plagued with the issues that he had learned of himself and that which were discovered and hitherto pointed out to him by Lucrecia.

It drained him so much he couldn't even function enough to drive after he was flown back to Academia, so he'd left his car still parked in the CrescEnterprises building and hopped on the train back to the university where he snuggled down in his dormitory bed and tried to forget the week spent at CreScientia.

But sleep was elusive, and after tossing and turning and mentally reciting the periodic table of elements to calm his mind proved futile, he kicked his covers, for once not minding the mess he made, and threw himself into the shower. Afterwards, feeling somewhat refreshed and clear-headed, the onset of guilt and obsessive-compulsiveness rendered him feeling nearly normal again that he immediately set about smoothing the creases of his sheets and setting the bed properly. Looking around at the familiar space of his room, a feeling of satisfaction and contentment came over him.

All was now right and proper in Hope's world.

Now, all that was needed to complete it was work. Surely there were clothes to be sewn, accessories to be made, weapons to be forged, a group to meet, co-workers to greet, and a model in potentia to yearn for.

And so on that Friday afternoon, it was to his great surprise to find the House of Paddra studio to be empty. A quick call to Noel, though, had him taking the train yet again, this time to where the rest of the group had congregated, shopping for fabric.

"Hope Estheim, reporting for duty," said its owner, mock saluting at the Seeress as he addressed her.

"Hello, Hope," greeted Yeul, looking him over. "You look terrible."

A self-deprecating laugh erupted out of him. "Hahaha...yeah."

"Are you okay?"

"More or less."

"So what's the diagnosis?"

Hope shook his head. "All I can say about it is to never, ever, allow your family member be your physician."

"O-kay..."

"It's not worth it, not for your emotional or mental health."

Yeul chuckled. "Well, if it's any consolation, I don't think Caius will be switching professions anytime soon."

Hope patted her shoulder. "That's good."

Yeul turned back to the fabrics she had been arranging in front of her, and Hope pursed his lips as he watched her, a thoughtful look crossing his face.

"Say, Yeul..."

"Hmm?" Eyes still trained in front of her, she tilted her head towards him to indicate she was listening.

"You met my mom, right?"

"Yeah, of course I have."

"Do you remember Cornelia? I dated her a few years back."

Yeul hummed as she thought. "Is that the one that was crazy about Fuzzy Sheep?"

"Yeah, that's her."

"She moved away, didn't she?"

"Yeah, so she could study more sheep."

"Oh, how's she doing, then?"

"I actually don't know. Haven't heard from her at all."

Yeul turned to face him, a frown furrowing her brow. "Well, what about her? Why bring her up?"

"Well..." Hope trailed off as he weighed the pros and cons of pursuing this particular topic, green eyes straying to the mass of purple that filled their immediate vicinity. Being a Crescent, judgment and suspicion alongside awe from people were things he had grown accustomed to. But still...what could he really say? That denial was a knee-jerk reaction to the notion that he had dated, kissed, and been intimate with someone who sounded like his mother. That as a teenager, he had wanked off to a heavily accented woman who sounded like his mother. All without ever realizing that the root of his attraction to them stemmed from their voices. The implications of it...even now, just thinking about it was giving him the heebie jeebies. His cousin Loz was very open about his Oedipal condition, but Hope couldn't quite allow himself to fully accept it of himself. And then, add Claire to the mix, and he could feel the gears of his mind grinding to a halt; he just couldn't process equating Claire's voice with his mother's. For surely, it was—as corny as it sounded and as shallow as it made him seem—the messy pile of pink hair, the harsh bright blue eyes, and the annoyed furrow at her brow that drew him to her as they passed by each other on the conveyor walkway a few weeks ago. Something about that impression of attitude screamed 'I am House of Paddra! Heed me!' to him. (Since it was her looks that attracted him, then maybe he really had graduated from the aforementioned fixation with his mother's voice—okay, mind, stop! he chided himself). "Nevermind. It's nothing."

"Really?"

At her tone, his eyes flew to meet hers. "It's really nothing. My grandmother just asked about her while I was there, that's all."

"What, did she think you were still together?"

"No, nothing like that."

"Then why would she bring her up?"

"My grandmother is just...let's just say her mind works in mysterious ways and leave it at that."

"O-kay." Yeul shook her head, turning back to her fabric choices. "Whatever you say."

Hope cleared his throat. "So what are we shopping for today anyway?"

"Mauve."

"For?"

"A dress."

Hope fought the urge to roll his eyes. "Yes, I know it's for a dress. But which one?"

"The one with the ruches and the giant pleats."

"Oh. That one."

"Uh-huh."

"So, mauve is the colour you want?"

"Yep."

"And the others are also somewhere looking for mauve?"

"Yep."

"I guess I should make myself useful and look for it too."

"That'd be great, thank you."

"Sure." He stepped away, lips quirking as he went on mission mode. From what he'd observed from Yeul's pile of purple, she was dissatisfied with the choices. Mauve in itself was a tricky shade to get right since something like a shade of plum or orchid, depending on their pigmentation mix, could also be considered mauve. And if she had her heart set on visualizing a certain version of mauve, well...therein lay the problem, because the rest of them would never hear the end of it if they couldn't find the right one. Yeul could only be made to compromise on a substitute as a last resort, and how Hope longed for that day, even though this was just the beginning of the quest.

Browsing airily through the aisles brought him by the wide windows overlooking the spacious parking lot and the surrounding buildings lined with more stores. A look of yearning crossed his face as he spied the string of fast food stalls across the way, reminding him that he hadn't eaten anything since breakfast that morning prior to flying back from the island.

As a growl emanated from the vicinity of his stomach, Hope decided to heed at least one of Lucrecia's prescriptions: Listen to your body, Hope.

Fabric-shopping would have to wait; his doctor had ordered him to listen to the call of his stomach, and he could do nothing but what she prescribed.

Claire made an attempt at being surreptitious with her ogling, her gaze roving over his form, a flush gracing her cheeks when her eyes reached his hips. She tried very hard not to let her eyes stray down to his crotch so as not to remind herself of pages twenty-seven and thirty-five of Holy, but it was futile, and she turned away. Hastily, she made a beeline towards the exit, making sure none of the House of Paddra members saw her, and took a deep breath once she made it outside.

She kept walking, her feet carrying her along the way, bypassing similar busy shoppers on their way to the next store. By this time, she was confident enough to attribute her flushed face to the brisk walk, to the heat that permeated the cobblestone ground, and to being surrounded by too many people—and not to her thinking somewhat scandalous things about a certain someone.

She finally stopped at a stall that wasn't as filled with people as the others, leaning against its counter as she caught her breath.

"Welcome to Seedy's!" came a voice behind her. "What can I get for you?"

Claire turned, startled, an utterance of negation about to leave her lips, but the sight of the expectant face on the other side of the counter had her changing her mind. Being in retail, she knew what it was like when someone would barge into the store only to find them leaving empty-handed, the frustration that would come when she felt as though a potential customer had just wasted her time. So she made an effort to read the menu listed on the wall, figuring she'd probably just order a drink.

Spying her interest, the man's eyes brightened and he offered, "Wanna try our special?"

"Um, what is it?"

"Deep-Fried Niblet Hairballs."

"Er...what?"

"Don't let the name scare ya. It's our special for a good reason. There's no actual hair in it, it's just the name. It's tender pieces of Niblet meat, dipped in a special batter, then deep-fried to perfection. See, it's the special ingredient of Civet Musk spice in the batter that makes it look like hairballs when fried. I guarantee you'll love it. It's especially approved by renowned connoisseur Gordon Gourmet, I'm sure you've heard of him."

"Uh, sure," relented Claire numbly. "I'll try it."

"Alright, that will be 450 gil please."

"Okay." Claire reached into her pocket and counted out the money, handing it over and shaking her head at the receipt after he rang the register. The man simply smiled and turned, busying himself with preparing her order. A few minutes later, she was handed a cardboard packet with the restaurant's logo, filled to the brim with sizzling bite-size pieces of battered Niblet meat. Nodding her thanks, she turned and headed away towards the planters that bordered the walkways from the parking lot, perching on the ledge and popping one in her mouth.

True to its enthusiastic advertising, it was pretty good. The Civet Musk, despite the unfortunate effect it had on making the batter look like globs of hair when fried, enhanced the underlying juiciness of the meat. She'd probably buy some more later for Serah, along with some fries or salad for their dinner. Putting another piece into her mouth, she nearly choked when she heard her name called by a certain someone she had been trying to definitely not hide or run from.

"Lightning?! Is that you?" asked Hope as he made his way to where she perched, and she totally did not hate the delight she could hear in his voice at seeing her.

Mouth still full, she only waved in reply, her lips pulling into a semblance of a smile as he sat beside her, holding out the packet.

"How are you? What are you doing here?" He continued his barrage of questions.

Mind whirling at getting caught, she simply pointed from her mouth and puffed out cheeks to the pile of deep-fried Niblets in her other hand.

His smile still in place, his brows furrowed at her continuing silence, eyeing the cardboard with Seedy's logo. "It's that good that it robbed you of your voice, huh?" he jokingly asked as he reached for a piece.

She nodded brusquely in response, taking care to chew and swallow carefully before keeping her mouth further occupied with another Niblet lest she ended up saying something she'd rather not.

"Hey, this is pretty good," commented Hope, green eyes trained on her, seemingly a little too pleased in watching her eat.

Claire spared him a sidelong glance and kept the packet held out between them, hearing him chuckle and sigh in resignation as she made it clear she wasn't about to talk on account of her being busy, and they ate in an easy companionable silence.

Once the packet was empty, they both rose, walking together to discard it into a nearby trash bin.

"I must say I never thought I'd reunite with you through hairballs," quipped Hope, licking the remaining grease from his fingers, then laughing outright when she punched his shoulder.

"Shut up." An answering smile hovered on her lips, and she felt her stomach jump as he caught the hand still curled into a fist against his shoulder, his thumb grazing against her pulse-point. Hope had thrown his head back, eyes closed as though in the throes of pleasure.

"Mmm, you finally said something. Say it again." There was a throaty quality to his voice as he spoke that made her feel as though her stomach was performing cartwheels and somersaults inside her body.

What the hell, thought Claire. Though if that was a comment about what he said or its effect on her, even she couldn't tell. And she kind of wished he'd let go of her hand. And she also sort of wished he'd keep on holding it.

"What? 'Shut up'?" she grumbled.

Pulling his head back, green eyes opened and peered down at her. "Anything, really. Say anything."

"Why?"

"I want to hear you talk."

"Why?"

"Because your voice...I like the sound of it. It's very unique and doesn't sound like anything else. And you have no idea how happy that makes me."

Claire didn't really know what to make of that, although it made her feel too pleased than she knew what to do with. She was already blushing before, but now she could almost feel as though her head could deflate from all the heat that was permeating from her skin. "Shut up."

She shivered as she heard him chuckling. Hope's other hand rose and encased hers with both of his, holding them over his chest.

"It really is great to see you."

Me too, something deep inside of her wanted to say back, but she decidedly tried to kick it deep down into the abyss of her psyche, though she could feel it still hovering close by. There had been several occasions when she had been in this close proximity to him, and in those moments there had been a palpably intimate air between them.

But that niggling at the back of her mind resurfaced from where she'd tried to bury it. I want to be closer. The thought was clear and resolute, and she really was getting tired of keeping on with the denial that nobody truly was convinced of, not even herself.

This is it, I guess, she thought. No more dancing around things.

Relaxing her fingers within his hold so that they caught and held his, and roving her eyes over his searching gaze, she announced, "I've decided."

Tilting his head to the side, Hope gave her a questioning look, eyebrows raised to prompt her to continue.

Claire took a deep breath.

"I'll model for you." She blinked, just catching what it was she'd said, then cleared her throat and quickly corrected, "—For House of Paddra, I mean."

The uncontainable answering grin that grew on his lips would've been a good enough response for her, with the way it caused her heartbeat to thunder through her ribcage.

But the sudden arms encompassing her, drawing her closer to him, cheek to cheek and chest to chest, made her breath catch and hold, and made her forget what inhaling and exhaling were supposed to do again to help her live as her mind was robbed of any thought but:

Maker, just what the hell did I get myself into?

Disclaimer: Final Fantasy belongs to Square Enix.

APPENDIX

Seedy's, Deep-Fried Niblet Hairballs, Civet Musk, Gordon Gourmet – all part of a sidequest in Lightning Returns

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Thanks for reading! Really interested in what you thought of this chapter (please let me know) :)

Apr/2016