Something angsty this time, inspired by a beautiful piece by keichama over on deviantART. keichama . deviantart art/HopeLight-Liberate-me-320524981 (no spaces).

Enjoy~!

65. Black and White

Hope Estheim believed his mother to be beautiful, with her innocent, childlike face, youthful silver hair, and luminescent jade eyes. She herself behaved like an angel, rarely losing her temper and seldom raising her voice, but in the frequent absences of his father, became a disciplinarian Hope was proud to say he'd been raised by.

Though not attracted to her, Hope also thought that Vanille was beautiful, as well. She may have been more than mildly annoying in her optimism, but she managed to keep a tiny flame of hope burning in each of her companions. Her smiled were always genuine, the sparkles in her eyes always from hoping for the best, and her tears of pure empathy. Anyone with her brand of sincerity was to be appreciated.

Even Fang, as blatantly caustic and sardonic as she was, had her appeal in body and nature. She and Hope may not have had the friendly pseudo-sibling relationship he and Vanille shared, but Hope appreciated the occasional enjoyable – though sarcasm-saturated – exchanges he had with her. Knowing that he wasn't the only natural pessimist in their entourage was comforting, and to be honest, Hope didn't mind having to travel with Fang every day. He never would have said it out loud, lest she choose to remind him of her frightening strength, but Fang wasn't hard on the eyes.

As Hope lay in silent darkness, his clothes, face, and all exposed skin smudged with dirt and either smeared or splattered with blood, the beauty that his mother, Fang, and Vanille possessed in his eyes paled in comparison to Lightning Farron.

She may have been drop-dead gorgeous, but she wasn't exactly friendly. She was about as cuddly as a roll of barbed wire. She'd nearly left Hope behind on the basis that he was virtually defenseless. She was distant, cold, and was so disciplined that she couldn't bring herself to lighten up in her current circumstances, even with the threat of accelerating her devolution to cie'th hanging over her head. When facing her qualities head-on, Lightning seemed like scum.

In just two short weeks, Hope had found himself in the presence of Lightning's soft side. She revealed herself first to be civil, then even later, she was endearing. She was extremely influential, and her discipline showed itself to be a driving force, a self-sufficient source to keep her going. During their flight through the wilderness, Hope had watched her spirit multiply in the absence of his own, and he soon found it to be infectious. Lightning wasn't as cold or distant as he'd imagined she was; a fact proven by the concern she showed over his plans for revenge, and again in Palumpolum through her initial choice to sacrifice herself for him, and yet again in her promise to protect him.

Oh. The hug may have been a sign, too.

The smiles…the encouragements…the pushes…and harsh words…no matter the gesture, Hope found that each one contributed to Lightning's breathtaking allure, which he had noticed becoming greater and greater every day he rushed into battle with her. The hug did him in, and from then on, he knew he was a goner. Every day, he was reminded of his feelings, and cursed the disparity of their ages. He soon began wondering if ages really mattered as much as his world insisted it did.

However, as death lingered near them, both Hope and Lightning knew that age was of the least of their concerns. The blood seeping from their wounds covered their differences, brought a fear of the unknown into their hearts that reduced one and built up the other until the ground they bled out on was equal. In their final moments, inequalities were shared, shades of grey became black and white, feelings expressed through gestures as words were beyond the reaches of their lungs.

Lightning's fingers gently – or weakly – caressed Hope's cheek, her glacial blue eyes never leaving his, brilliant jade like his mother's and shimmering with tears. Tears had yet to escape her, but that wasn't to say that Lightning's eyes were dry. Her seemingly endless strength only went to such lengths, and though having slumbered on death's doorstep without shedding a tear before, seeing the young man she'd tasked herself with protecting succumbing to the crippling fear that accompanied only death placed several cracks in her resolve. In the time she'd spent with him, Hope had become much more than someone to protect – he'd become the figure of a brother, then a best friend, and then, she guiltily admitted, the only member of the opposite gender she'd ever loved. His childhood had abruptly ended on the purge train, and in their time, his maturity had multiplied tenfold, providing for him the mentality of a man her age.

Age didn't matter anymore, and she knew it.

A tear fell from Hope's eyes and cut through the dirt and blood obscuring the skin on his face, and Lightning gently wiped it away, trying to give him as much of an encouraging smile as she could.

Don't be afraid, she thought. You're not making this easier on either of us.

"L-Light," Hope rasped, reaching up and cupping Lightning's cheek. His breath was labored and pained Lightning to listen to. If she'd had the breath and the strength to tell him to shut up, she would have, but the fear and desperation in Hope's eyes would have silenced her even if she'd been able to speak.

"Don't tell me to give it up," he whispered, choosing his words carefully. "since we both know what's coming…" through the dirt and grime, Hope still blushed, sending a wave of warmth through Lightning's chest.

"C-close your eyes," Hope said, biting his lip. She hesitated, but eventually closed her eyes as she was told. Several seconds passed and nothing happened – but just before she opened her eyes again, she felt light pressure on her lips. When she opened her eyes, she drew in a slow, painfully rattling breath as she realized that Hope had kissed her. He didn't linger, and pulled away almost as soon as he'd leaned in, resting his head on her shoulder.

"I love you, Light," he whispered, closing his eyes. The small action pushed more tears from his eyes and sent them falling onto Lightning's skin. She managed a small, though genuine smile as she managed to wrap a bloodied arm around him, reciprocating his words even though her voice refused to serve her.

As Hope snuggled into her side to wait for their eternal sleep to pull them under, both l'Cie were overwhelmed by a peace they couldn't begin to explain. For two young souls about to fall into death's trap-like jaws without having lived most of the experiences life had to offer, the calm that washed over them was awe-striking. They had nothing to lose. Nothing to gain. Death was suddenly no more frightening than plunging into darkness for a night's sleep, and their focus was no longer an issue.

Black and white. Love and hate. Life and death. Hope and Lightning.

Without one, the other cannot exist.