A/N: This is a continuation of the previous chapter. It's also slight angst. I've been so busy the last couple days, so here I wrote this at 2:00 AM…which, coincidentally, is when I tend to do my best work, so it works.

Disclaimer: I've said it before, but I'll say it as much as you want: None of the Square Enix franchise belongs to me. This includes the Final Fantasy branch and, more specifically, Final Fantasy XIII. Happy?

Summary: Snow opened up to Hope, but what will Hope do now that it's him being asked of?

Warnings: Okay, if you're here now, then you should have already known it was Snow/Hope. It's also a little angst, but more of an 'I'm keeping you here' type of angst than an 'I'm leaving' one.

Two days passed since Snow had opened up to Hope. Nothing had really changed while they were around the others, but when they were left alone, Snow felt heavy. Not tense, but heavy, and somehow he felt high. Not high off drugs, more like high off of a nameless emotion, or perhaps from no emotion at all.

Hope felt it too. It was almost relieving to him after the past few days.

They would go to bed like normal, but there were no words. There was contact, but no meaning. Their pre-slumber ponderings had stopped. Their sleep itself had stopped.

It had been simple contact; Hope tracing Snow's scars, running his fingers through the blonde's hair, or even simply hugging him. No talking like there had been. Neither felt it was needed, or were simply afraid their voice could shatter the moment. It was both enjoyable and awkward at once. They liked it, yet they didn't. They wanted it to continue; they wanted it to stop, or maybe just change.

Tonight, Hope didn't feel like running his fingers along Snow's body like usual. He wanted to feel his lips.

At first, there was nothing intimate about it. Hope simply pressed his lips to the other's. It may well have been a hand to a hand, as simple and chaste as it was. It was just like the first time, except it was Hope bringing it on instead.

But it changed within moments.

Hope wasn't shy or questioning or hesitant as he usually was. No, it was different; it wasn't some new battle technique he was asking if he did right, it was instinct an instinct he shouldn't have known how to do so well, so sinfully, so…so commandeering and forcefully.

Yet, he did, and did it well at that.

It was as if he were trying to drown out Snow's misery and pain…but not at all. It was more like he were trying to drown out his past; like it were some kind of scent he hated.

Snow did forget. Snow may well have forgotten everything except for the younger l'Cie pushing him into the bed as he infiltrated the blonde's mouth.

Somehow, there was nothing sexual or even provocative about it. It was rough and rushed; somehow desperate, as if the silver-haired boy could no longer stand something.

He finally broke away from the older, somehow still breathing evenly.

He pushed himself off of the other curling his back to the muscled frame of Snow.

Snow reached out his hand, to touch the other, but some strange serge, a premonition, if you will, made his hand silently jerk away from the younger.

Snow realized the more he thought back to the kiss. It was heated, yet cold. It was desperate, yet calm. It was nostalgic, yet foreign.

It then hit him; it hit him square in the chest with the force of a King Behemoth: for all of the rightness it held, it was so, so horribly wrong. So…not like Hope.

The silence was finally broken, as the two lay back-to-back, but careful not to touch.

"Tell me about yours."

It was said as a statement, but delivered as more of a question.

Hope knew what he meant, but didn't answer right away. Snow thought he might not answer at all until he said, "If I told you, you'll wish I hadn't…"

Snow waited a long while before replying with, "But I'll wish you did unless you do."

Snow tried to be simple, tried to be happy…tried to be pretentiously optimistic. The last comment didn't do any of that. Though it was meant to be a mood lightener, the seriousness in his voice made it simple truth. No candy coating, no comedy relief, just truth.

Humans are curious, humans are secretive. Right now, each of the two l'Cie reflected one of the two traits.

It was Hope who finally said something to finish it. "I won't lie to you, but I'm not telling you tonight. You know too much of me as it is…"

Snow shifted under their light cover, getting uncomfortable at the lack of emotion in his partner's voice.

Hope took it as a leaving sign.

He quickly grabbed at snow, forcing him onto his back once more as his eyes bore into the other's. He knew Snow could easily pushed him off if he so desired. The fact that he didn't after the several extra moments he gave the other to recover and do so led him to the sentences pouring gracefully from his mouth.

"You're not going anywhere," he sounded cold and lifeless; almost taunting even. Yet it somehow reassured Snow. "I need you. I love you. You'd have left if you didn't feel the same," he said before bringing Snow back into that same kiss.

That heatedly cold, sinfully chaste, nostalgically foreign, rightfully wrong kiss.

More than anything, it felt like an 'I'm not letting you go' kiss. Snow knew before then that he wouldn't leave, to him it was like signing a contract that said so.

Snow realized he needed to add something to the list of this slightly different kiss: love.

A/N: Yeah, fourth chapter! I don't feel like it's the best chapter, but I had to write this to continue. Please review, even if it just says 'good' or 'bad,' I'll like it. Next chapter will be fluffy for Rain ^_^ Hope you enjoyed!