Meeting You
Chapter Three: Radiance
The pale sunlight of early morning filtered through the window, illuminating the young woman in Hope's bed.
They hadn't done anything. Lightning had simply crawled into bed and went to sleep, leaving him standing there, staring at her in shock. He'd slipped in beside her, silently reciting to himself that he wasn't disappointed, he really wasn't.
He'd hardly slept. How could he? Lightning was there, right there, beside him. It was everything he had ever wanted, and waking up to see her still there, her breathing soft on the pillow next to his, banished any exhaustion. His eyes flickered over her face, memorizing the small, intricate details: the way her hair spilled over her shoulder, one lock of hair curling against her pale cheek. Her eyelashes were dark and thick, her face younger and more vulnerable in sleep. Her lips were pink and glossed—or maybe that was just the light playing tricks on him.
Hope remembered dreams like this, after the pillar collapsed and everything he had worked for went horribly wrong. His days had been dark and his nights even darker. His friends went their separate ways again, leaving him alone. And Hope had realized too late the look of sorrow on Lightning's face when she told him that she wasn't sure if things would be alright.
She was gone. And he was cursed to live forever in a dying world.
Then the dreams came to him: dreams of her, of Lightning. They haunted his sleeping hours and his every waking thought. The visions promised a life with her, the kind of existence he had always wanted. They showed him quiet moments, like Lightning leaning her head against his shoulder, twining her fingers through his—each glimpse tender yet heartbreaking in their simplicity. And then there were other moments that left him sweating and panting for breath, where Lightning's fingernails dug into his back, her body arching up beneath him, her voice whispering his name raggedly in his hear. And then when he awoke alone in the darkness, it took everything he had not to scream at the unfairness of it all.
He'd known it would only be a matter of time before he broke.
Hope raised his hand, letting it hover over the curve of her cheek. The phantoms had vanished when he reached out to touch them, but Lightning didn't stir. She's real, he told himself. She's here. I'm not going mad. Not this time.
He slowly let out his breath and pulled back his hand. There is no Bhunivelze waiting in the wings to ensnare me, Hope thought as he carefully climbed out of bed. He looked up at the mirror on the opposite wall. He smiled, and the bright sunlight showed too-pale skin and dusky circles under his eyes. There's no point. I think I took some of him with me.
He had slept in his clothes, but he didn't bother changing. He trod silently down the stairs, avoiding the creak in the second step, and went to the kitchen. He got out his big pan and the mixing bowl, and set the flour, eggs and milk in a neat line on the counter. Light cooked for me last night, he thought, dipping his measuring cup into the flour jar, so it's only fair that I cook for her today.
He wondered what sort of rhythms they would develop if Lightning really stayed. Would they take turns cooking and washing up? Would they do the chores together? Would he take a shower first in the mornings, or would she beat him to it every time? Hope smiled, imagining seeing her there in the bathroom mirror next to him, getting ready for the day.
The image was too sweet to be real.
Lightning came in as he poured half of the batter into the pan. "Something smells good."
"Pancakes," he answered, glancing over his shoulder. She was leaning against the doorframe, one arm crossed over her chest. His grey shirt was rumpled, but otherwise Light looked the same as she did last night. His eyes were drawn to her long legs and he quickly turned back to the stove before he could get a proper look.
She hummed in appreciation. "I haven't made pancakes since Serah was little."
"Then you get to have this first one."
"You were going to give it to me anyway."
He grinned. When the batter began to dimple on top, he flipped it neatly over. "What do you like to have on your pancakes?"
"Syrup. Isn't that what everyone has?"
"Nope. My mother eats them with butter and sugar, and my father only eats them with jam." He looked back over his shoulder at her. "But I like them with syrup, too."
Lightning smiled.
"Here." He put down the spatula and went to a cupboard, only to have Light block his hand.
"I'll worry about setting the table this time." She looked up at him, as if daring him to contradict her. "You worry about breakfast."
He smiled weakly. "Sure."
As soon as she set a place for herself Hope was there, dropping the pancake onto her plate with a satisfying plop. "You don't have to wait for me," he told her as he poured more batter into the pan. "Eat it while it's hot."
Lightning shrugged and picked up the syrup bottle. "Alright, but I'll take it slow so we can eat together."
Hope waited until he sat down across from her and began cutting his pancake in tiny squares before he said, "after breakfast I'll start moving the boxes and computers out of the spare room. That way you can start moving your things in by the afternoon."
"Don't bother."
He looked up at her. His hand was on the syrup bottle, about to lift it over to his plate, but now he paused. "Why not?"
She shrugged and cut a corner off of her pancake. "I'll just stay with you."
Hope started. He slowly pulled his hands away and stared down at his plate. Her words echoed in his head—I'll just stay with you—and he swallowed hard.
Hadn't he always been waiting to hear those words? Hadn't he always wanted a moment in time exactly like this, where he sat across from the table from her, peaceably eating breakfast? Hadn't he always wanted to see her dressed in his shirt, the wrinkles clinging to her thin frame and emphasizing her body's curves?
Then why was he finding it hard to breathe?
"If that's what you want," Hope said quietly. He didn't know what else to say.
"I wouldn't have said it if I didn't mean it," Lightning said.
He wasn't a fool. He had known her intentions the moment he saw her outside his door, the suitcase in her hand. And hadn't he been wanting her to come? Why else had he been replenishing the cuts of steak in his fridge every few days, if he hadn't been hoping that she would show up?
Having her so close was an unbearable torture.
"Hope."
He didn't reply. He couldn't tell her what he really wanted, not when he wasn't sure he was the same person that she had visited that night in Academia. Is it my love for you that I'm feeling, he asked himself bitterly, or is it simply a heightened memory, or the lingering traces of his need for you, twisted in the truth?
"Hope. You aren't Bhunivelze."
He nodded. Bhunivelze was a different entity completely; a god. "I know."
"Then you don't need to act like you are," she snapped. Hope's head shot up. She was glaring at him, her heated look the same that Hope had seen hundreds of times as a l'Cie.
She's angry, he realized in growing amazement. At me. "Light—"
"There isn't even a fragment of him left inside you." She crossed her arms and leaned forward. "You don't think I would have seen it, if that was true? When I was swallowed by the Chaos, when you came back for me—that was you, Hope. I wouldn't have followed you back to the light if I had seen Bhunivelze as well."
Hope sat rigidly in his chair. But surely there must be one part of him left, his mind objected. What about my obsession with the stars? What about my obsession with you?
"This world is different from Cocoon and Pulse," she went on, almost as if she could read his mind, "so it's no wonder you'd want to learn more. You've always been like that."
He didn't answer.
"You aren't like Bhunivelze," she said shortly. "He was like you."
That was true. It was why he had worked so perfectly as a vessel.
Lightning picked up her fork. "I didn't come find you because I was worried or pitied you. Even if you'd stayed young, I still would have come back." She speared a piece of her pancake and shoved it into her mouth. "I would have waited for you."
Hope struggled to swallow. She was right. It had always been the two of them, from the beginning. He looked at her, but she was sawing off another bite-sized piece with a fixed, serious look.
"This world is a fresh start. A new journey that we can take together." She stopped then, her hands falling still as she shut her eyes. Her eyelashes made long shadows against her curved cheek. "If… you let us."
He stared. He could hear his racing pulse pounding in his head, and for a few seconds he fought the desire to move, to gather her in his arms.
Imagining it was all the prompting he needed. Hope pressed his hands flat against the table and stood, leaning forward to catch her mouth with his.
There was syrup on the corner of her lips. He could taste it as he curved one hand around the curve of her jaw, tilting his head to push the kiss deeper.
"Stay," he murmured between kisses. "Stay with me."
Lightning pulled back far enough to look up into his eyes. A smile pulled at the corner of her mouth. "That's why I came," she whispered.
He made himself wait until they were upstairs in his room before he kissed her again. She snaked her arms around his back, pulling him close as his hands fisted in the back of the shirt. Her fingers twisted in his hair as he pulled aside the grey collar to lay a trail of hungry kisses along her collarbone.
There was too much fabric between them. She still felt so far away. His hands down her sides and up under her shirt, feeling the hem of her tank top beneath it. Lightning lifted her arms and he pulled the too-large shirt off of her, his thumbs returning to caress the soft skin over her hips, where the shorts waistband sat.
Lightning's hands were busy racing down the line of white buttons down his front, unraveling the fastenings with a soldier's efficiency. His fingers ventured under her top, trailing across her smooth skin up to her waist. He felt her shiver as his searching hands grazed her spine
He heard her growl at the back of her throat, and suddenly Hope found himself being pushed backwards onto the bed. "You move too slow," she muttered huskily, her knees pressing down on either side of his hips. In the morning sun, her cascading hair fell around her face in shades of glinting pink, white, and pale gold. The trailing ends of her hair brushed Hope's cheek, and as she bent down to kiss him, he rolled her over onto her back, pinning her underneath him.
He had wanted this—wanted her—for so long. He had literally dreamed this moment many times, but now he forced himself to resist his longing for one more minute. He cupped a hand, shaking with restraint, around her cheek. "I love you, Claire Farron," he whispered, an echo of words said centuries ago in another world, before everything went dark.
The words were as true now as they were then.
Lightning blinked up at him, and a faint smile crossed her face. "I know," she murmured.
He dropped down to kiss her, and Light opened her mouth to let him in. He knew she loved him back, even if she was still too proud to say the words.
A/N: There will be one more chapter after this to finish off the story.
