Note: It's all downhill from here.
Additional note: Addressing a recent review I received - lots of time I opt not to write explicit sex scenes. If this is your only gripe with my writing, please don't send me reviews about it! Constructive crit is welcome, as always, but "wahh no lemon" is not. Thanks!

4. Hope & Lightning

Hope laid awake, staring at the ceiling. He could just barely make out the form of a spider as it skittered across a shaft of light from the street lamp, and wrinkled his nose slightly, hoping it wouldn't decide to drop down over the futon.

After a moment he pushed the coverlet back and got up. He was so hungry that his stomach felt like it was folding in on itself in a painful contortion, and he decided that even though it was one in the morning, he wasn't going to get any sleep on an empty stomach.

He stepped out into the hallway and nearly tripped over Lightning. "Jesus!" he gasped, grabbing the wall for support. He groped for the light switch and flicked it on. Lightning lifted her head and looked at him blearily.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

She dropped her head with a groan. "Turn the light off," she mumbled.

Hope dropped to his knees beside her, touching her shoulder. "Hey," he said. "Why are you out here?"

Lightning finally sat up, back to the wall. "I don't know," she said. "I can't…" She stared across the hall at her bedroom door as she trailed off.

Hope pushed his hair out of his face, stifling a sigh. This is more than any seventeen year old should be expected to cope with, he thought ruefully, allowing himself a moment of self-pity.

She glanced up at him. "What time is it?"

"I dunno. After midnight." Hope stood up. "I was going to make something to eat, since…"

"Yeah," Lightning cut him off.

He rubbed his neck. "Yeah," he murmured. "Do you want something?"

"Sure," she replied.

Lightning followed him downstairs and into the kitchen. She sat at the table, rubbing her face with her hands. Hope pulled out a can of soup. "We can split this," he offered.

"Yeah, whatever. That's fine."

Hope tipped the contents of the entire can into a bowl, added water, and stuck it in the microwave. It tasted better, he knew, if he made it on the stove, but he was too hungry to wait. "Is he…uh…coming back?" he asked tentatively.

Lightning scratched at the peeling paint on the tabletop with her thumbnail. "So he says," she answered.

The microwave peeped, and Hope pulled out the hot bowl, cursing under his breath as he burnt his fingers. He spooned some into another bowl, then used potholders to transfer them to the table. "I'm sorry," he said. "Maybe it's my fault."

Lightning arched a brow. "Hm?"

"That he left. He asked me why I hated him. I called him a dick."

Lightning stared at him, then let out a short bark of laughter, so abrupt that Hope jumped. "No," she snorted. "I'm quite sure that wasn't it."

"Well…" Hope stirred his bowl, watching the steam rise in a cloud. "I said he treated you bad, too."

She was watching him. "You said that?"

"I did," Hope said, sheepish. "I dunno, I was mad because he went storming up there like a demented dog even though I told him you said you wanted to be left alone, and - "

"Hope," she said gently. "It had nothing to do with you."

"Will you tell me why, then?" He looked at her from under his hair.

She glanced down at the soup. She picked up the spoon and put it back down. "Because," she said, "he expects more of me than I am capable of doing."

"How vague," Hope commented, taking an experimental spoonful of soup. It didn't quite scald the tastebuds off his tongue.

Lightning rested her chin on her hand. "Tell me about your family, Hope."

"Nothing to tell," he mumbled, spooning more soup into his mouth. "Mom's dead, dad's gone…somewhere."

"Why do you hate your dad?"

"Because he's an asshole too," Hope spat. "He took his fancy job in Palumpolum three years ago and hasn't come to see us since. He was just sending money, and then he stopped doing that too." He never wanted either of us, and when he saw that opportunity to get away, he took it. He never gave a fuck.

"And you never found out why?" Lightning asked.

"No."

"What about your mom? She didn't say anything about it?"

"No," Hope murmured, ducking his head. "She never wanted to talk about it."

He felt her gaze on him, knew she wanted to probe him further, but for a mercy, she remained silent and kept eating.

He never really wondered about his dad. Maybe most people would be upset over their father's disappearance, but Hope couldn't care less. He'd known his mom cared, though. But she never wanted to talk about it, if she knew what happened to him.

Maybe he was dead too.

Hope pushed back his chair and got up, rinsing his bowl out. Lightning was still picking at her food, head bowed over the table. He came back to her. "Are you gonna be okay?" he asked her.

Lightning let her spoon fall with a clatter. She sighed. "I guess."

"Well…don't sleep in the hallway. You don't need back problems on top of everything else. Or me stepping on you again," Hope joked.

"I just…" She stared off into space. "It's been awhile since I've had to sleep alone, I guess. It's hard. When I'm alone, the nightmares come back. I mean, that's why I let him in my bed in the first place. Helped keep the night terrors at bay. And that bed's just so big, and…" She stopped.

"That bad, huh?" Hope rubbed his neck. Worse and worse. You are easily the most messed up person I've ever met. He instantly felt bad for that thought, even though it was true. In spite of her very obvious issues, though, he did like her.

"Yeah," Lightning said. She shook her head. "It's pathetic. I hate it."

Hope sat back down again. "Do you…do you have PTSD, or something?"

She met his gaze. "Yes," she said briefly.

That explains a lot. "Oh. I had an uncle who had it. He fought in the war, too."

"It was pretty awful," Lightning said, her tone deceptively even.

He also killed himself, but probably shouldn't mention that. "I guess I'm gonna go back to bed," Hope said, rising once more.

"Okay," Lightning murmured. "Thanks for dinner. Midnight snack. Whatever."

"You're welcome." He hesitated. "Are you going to go back to bed, too?"

"I dunno yet. I probably won't be able to sleep yet, anyway." She shrugged one shoulder.

"Why…um, why don't you sleep with me?"

Lightning's eyebrows hit her hairline.

"I mean, just so you don't have nightmares or whatever," Hope amended hastily, his face bright red. "Not…you know…"

"I know," Lightning interrupted. "It's fine. Thanks, Hope."

"S-sure. Um…goodnight." He turned and ran up the stairs, nearly face planting at the top in his rush. Stupid, he chastised himself. She probably thinks I'm a stupid horny kid. I'm not her big tough boyfriend.

He found himself unable to sleep for another hour, worried that she was going to actually come, and more worried that she wouldn't. After awhile, he did begin to doze off.

"Hope that offer still stands," Lightning murmured as she joined him on the futon.

He froze, instantly wide awake. He thought about feigning sleep. She settled in beside him, and his breath escaped him in a shaky sigh. She pressed her cheek to the back of his shoulder.

"Okay?" she asked.

"Yeah," he whispered. "It's fine."

"Don't hyperventilate," she told him.

Hope relaxed a little. "Not me," he assured her.

He could feel her smile against his shoulder. "Good night, Hope."

A shaft of afternoon sun burned Lightning's eyes behind their lids as it came through the blinds. With a groan, she opened them, squinting against the sunlight. At some point during the night, Hope had maneuvered his head to pillow on her chest, his arm flung over her stomach.

She wriggled herself towards the edge of the futon and reached down to the floor, groping for her phone. Hope made a small sound, but remained soundly asleep otherwise. With grasping fingertips, she managed to snag it, and she checked the time. It was nearly three. She'd never slept in so late in her life.

Lightning flipped to her messages, but there was nothing new. She scrolled to Snow's name and opened a new message. She was torn between asking him if he was okay and making a snide comment, but opted for a neutral where did you sleep? instead. She set the phone down by the pillow and put her hands behind her head. She would let Hope sleep a few minutes longer, she decided.

He was a good kid, and surprisingly intuitive.

Her phone buzzed with a new text, and she checked it. Crashed at Yuj's, Snow wrote.

When are you coming back? she typed in reply.

Do you miss me? he responded almost instantly.

She wanted to say no, just to be a bitch. She decided to be truthful instead.

I miss you in my bed.

Is that all?

At that moment Hope lifted his head. Realizing where he was, he scooted away, nearly falling off of the futon in the process. "Sorry!" he gasped.

Lightning raised her eyebrows. "Good morning."

Hope combed his hair out with his fingers. "Morning."

She gave him an amused look. "What's the problem?"

Realizing that she didn't care, he composed himself. "Nothing," he said. "I forgot, is all. You startled me."

Lightning checked her phone once more. Taking your silence as a yes, Snow had wrote.

I'm not having this conversation via phone. Come home, she wrote back.

You didn't understand last night, why would you now?

Lightning dropped her phone in her lap with an agitated sigh. Hope gave her a questioning look. "What's up?" he asked.

"Nothing. Listen, did you want to buy your school stuff today?"

"Oh. Yeah, I guess," he answered, bemused. "What time is it? It seems late."

"It is," she said. "It's like three in the afternoon." She got off the futon. "I need to shower, then we can head out."

"Sure," Hope said. "Want me to make you something to eat?"

"That's fine," she said, and went across the hall into her own room.

"There's still some left over," Hope said as they walked to the car in the fading afternoon light, school supply purchases in hand.

"Hm?" Lightning looked over at him. "What?"

"Money," Hope clarified.

"Oh. Just keep it, Hope."

"No," he said, stopping and waiting for Lightning to unlock the car. "I want to do something nice for you."

She scoffed, opening one of the rear doors so he could put his bags in the back seat. "Like what? Dinner and a movie?"

"Maybe," he said defensively, and they both laughed.

"I'm not really a fancy restaurant kind of girl," she said with a wry smile.

"Doesn't have to be like that," he said.

They both got into the car. "Why are you so dead set on spending that money?" she asked him.

He crossed his arms as Lightning pulled out of the parking lot. "It's not that," he murmured. "You've just been through a lot, and I know it'd been hard having me around too. I just…I appreciate it. I appreciate you. I want you to know that." He stared down at his feet, embarrassed. "Sorry. Forget it."

He could feel her gaze on him. "Alright," she said after moment. "You really want to do something nice for me."

Hope rolled his eyes. "If you let me."

She braked abruptly, turning the car into a desolate parking lot that served one rundown-looking building with a neon sign pronouncing its purpose: LIQUOR. The windows and doors all had bars on them. He raised his eyebrows, then looked at Lightning, who gave him a wicked smile.

"Yes?" she said.

He handed her the remaining bills. "Enjoy."

"Here you are," Lightning announced, setting a shot glass down in front of him on the coffee table from where they both sat on the couch.

Hope stared at the clear liquid. "Are you forgetting I'm seventeen?" he asked her.

She snorted. "Oh, come on. It's one shot of vodka. No one's going to break down the door and arrest you." She tossed back her own shot. "See?" she said, setting the glass down. "Your turn."

He eyed the vodka suspiciously. "I don't know," he said, tone wary.

Lightning smiled patiently. "Alright, alright," she told him. "You don't have to."

She moved to pick up the shot glass, but he took it instead, not wanting to appear the wimp. "It's like you said," Hope said. "Right? Just a shot." He raised it in the air. "Bottoms up." He put it to his lips, and without further hesitation, tipped the contents into his mouth. It burned, acridly, as it coursed down his throat, and he willed himself not to splutter. It felt like it was spreading through his veins, setting them afire.

"Nice," she laughed. "Was that really your first drink?"

"Yes," he panted, sliding the glass across the coffee table.

"Aha," she said, pouring herself another. He watched her knock it back. She met his gaze as she lowered the glass. "Want another?" she asked coyly, her cheeks flushed.

He laughed. "You're a terrible influence on me, Light."

"Maybe. No harm in getting drunk." She twisted a lock of her hair around her her finger.

"That is not what they teach in school," Hope said, but he pushed his glass towards her, and she filled it before filling her own.

"Cheers," she said, clinking her glass with his before drinking it. Hope followed suit. The taste wasn't as terrible that time, but as he set the glass back down on the table, he felt a little weird.

"Okay?" Lightning asked him.

"Yeah." He nodded, and the world flip-flopped for a moment. "Whoa," he said, laughing and grabbing his head.

Lightning grinned at him. "Feeling it?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Being drunk is fun," she enthused. "As long as you aren't a psycho or something. Want another? Just one more."

"Why not?" Hope said recklessly. "As long as you're not like, gonna try and make me drive you somewhere."

"Yeah, right. Where would we go? Do you even have a driver's license?" She filled both shot glasses one more time, spilling a few drops.

"Yes! I just don't have a car."

"No shit," Lightning said. "Else you'd be living in it instead of in a gutter."

"Probably," Hope agreed. He picked up his glass, but it slipped out of his hands and fell over, spilling it on the table. Lightning spluttered as she drank her shot. "Whoops."

"Party foul," she said. "Now you gotta drink it off the table."

"For real?"

"For real," Lightning told him.

Hope studied her face, trying to gauge if she was being serious or not, but her face kept coming in and out of focus, like a busted camera lens. "Not gonna do it?" she questioned. "Don't have to."

"I'll do it," he said. He leaned forward, but wound up falling off the couch and onto the floor. Lightning laughed.

"Don't worry about it," she said. "You okay?"

"Yeah, fine." He pressed his cheek against the coffee table's edge. "Sorry."

"S'okay," she assured him. "I got it." She lowered her head to the table and proceeded to suck the spilled vodka off the surface. His eyes widened as he watched her, his stomach and lower things clenching unexpectedly. He quickly drew his knees up to his chest.

She lifted her head and met his gaze. "You sure you okay?"

"Yeah," he said. He uprighted his glass. "Another."

"You're the boss." Lightning poured him another. Hope took a firm grip of it this time and drank it. This time when he set it down, his vision swam.

"Poor baby," she said, reaching over and pushing his hair out of his face. "Take it easy. You don't have to do more."

"I'm good," he asserted, pulling himself onto the couch.

Lightning shrugged and laughed. "I'm drunk already," she told him.

"I think I am too," he said.

Lightning picked up the bottle and took a swig. "But not drunk enough," she slurred. "Not me, anyway."

"Drinkin' like a champ," Hope said. "I think I remember something about not exceeding five shots an hour?"

"S'that what they're teaching in school now?" Her tongue darted out, running over her upper lip. Hope's eyes followed it. "This is the first time I've really drank in…shit. Years." Her eyes settled on him. "You know what's fun?"

"Nope."

"Body shots," she answered, a wicked gleam in her eye.

"Body wha…?"

"Take your shirt off," she ordered.

If there was a part of his brain that was alerting him to the need to refuse, it had long since been smothered by the alcohol. "Why?" he asked, all drunken curiosity.

"I'll show you."

He fumbled for the ends of his t-shirt and pulled it over his head. "Now what?" he asked.

Lightning stood up, stumbling only a little. "Lie down," she said, kneeling beside the couch. Hope obeyed, putting his hands behind his head. Lightning picked up the bottle of vodka once more and poured some into his navel. He flinched slightly.

"What are you doing?" he said.

"Watch." She bowed her head over him and sucked the liquor off of his stomach. Hope inhaled sharply. She looked at him, licking her lips. "That is a body shot."

Don't look down, he willed her mentally. "I see," he said, breathless.

"Wanna do me?" She proffered the vodka.

He sat up, taking it from her. "Uh…"

Lightning was already pulling her shirt off. Her navel ring glinted dully in the dim lighting of the living room. Hope pressed his thighs together. Oh, my god. Her bra was black and teasingly sheer, her breasts swelling above the lace. Regardless of how long she'd been out of the army, her body was still quite…fit. "Well, for a real body shot, we'd need tequila and salt and a lime, but…"

She turned and tossed her shirt on the floor, and he saw the scars, old and misshapen, criss-crossing up the length of her back. The sight of them almost sobered him up, until she turned back around. He quickly forgot about them, then. There was nothing ugly about the front of her.

"Your turn," she said as she got onto the couch.

Hope poured the bottle, two-handed to keep it steady, onto her stomach. The excess alcohol trickled down the sides of her waist and onto the couch. He took a deep breath, then lowered his head and drank the vodka off her belly. The extra dose of alcohol made him brave. He licked up the vodka that had trailed down her sides, and she made a small sound.

"And that's how it's done," she whispered.

"You're a good teacher," he whispered back.

Lightning sat up, reaching one hand to him, running her fingers through his hair. Impulsively, he turned his head, laying his lips on her bruised wrist. Hope heard her sharp intake of breath.

And suddenly she was pulling his head towards hers and kissing him like he'd never been kissed - not that he'd ever actually been kissed, aside from the pecks shared with his middle school girlfriend - and he could taste the alcohol on her breath, but he didn't care. Her lips parted under his, and their tongues touched.

"You're beautiful," Lightning murmured, pushing his hair away from his neck and kissing along the skin of his throat. Hope didn't answer; he couldn't. His breath was coming so fast, he felt like his body was going to combust. Her hands moved down his stomach, brushing the front of his jeans.

"Light," he said, his voice trembling.

"I know," she said, thumbing the clasp open and unzipping them. Her hand slid inside his boxers, and he moaned. Lightning kissed him again, then trailed her mouth to his ear, biting down on the lobe.

"Are you a virgin?" she murmured, and he shivered.

"Does it matter?" Hope asked in return.

The answer seemed to satisfy her, though it was no answer at all. Her mouth was on his again.

He did lose his virginity that night.

Lightning heard a car pull up outside.

In an instant she was awake, though her head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and her mouth tasted worse than anything she could imagine at that moment. She sat up on the couch, grabbing her head, every muscle and bone in her body creaking in and popping in protest.

Why am I naked?

She surveyed the room with dawning horror. The overturned shot glass, the almost empty bottle of vodka, Hope lying under the coffee table facedown, similarly undressed.

"Holy shit," she said under her breath. "Oh, shit, don't be dead." She reached down and grabbed his shoulder. He startled awake, banging his head on the table. With a groan, he covered his face in his hands.

"Jesus christ," she said. "Are you okay?"

"I think I'm gonna be sick," he groaned.

"Did we have sex?" she asked him bluntly.

Hope dropped his head in his arms. "Uh. Yeah."

"Holy shit," she said again. In that moment, she was aware of the tell-tale soreness between her legs. You fucked a seventeen year old. You got him drunk and had sex with him. Holy fuck, he was probably a virgin. Lightning grabbed his jeans and threw them at him. "Someone's here," she said urgently.

Hope crawled out from under the table and pulled his jeans back on, fumbling to fasten the button. Lightning grabbed her shorts and yanked them up. "Where the hell is my shirt?" she growled. "God dammit."

The front door opened, flooding the foyer beyond with light. On reflex, Lightning turned towards the doorway, then realized too late that she was still topless, and covered her breasts with her hands. She was hungover, maybe still a little drunk, and trapped like a deer in headlights as Snow walked in.