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The night was warm. Above Lightning’s head, the star-spangled heavens dazzled; rivers of stars crashing and blending in hues of green and pink.
Within the cradle of Cocoon, such a sight had been wholly unknown to her. Stars had been things of fairy tales. Three years ago, it had been beyond even the greatest dreamers’ imaginings that the true night sky was a thing of such spectacle. Their first night on Pulse, back when they’d been l’Cie, Lightning had been utterly enchanted by it.
Now, the sight was nearly mundane.
After Cocoon’s fall, humanity had moved to the surface. In the years that followed, towns had been built and life had transformed drastically from what it had been before. Upheaval was a natural part of change, and so were the growing pains that the people formerly of Cocoon now faced fending for themselves in the great wide world. With so many new challenges to contend with, it was easy to forget how profound that first night under the stars had felt.
In truth, as far as Lightning was concerned, the move to Pulse hadn't changed all that much. Serah was safe and back home where she belonged. The ex-l’Cie had banded together, carving out lives for themselves doing odd jobs amid the chaos, and many of those odd jobs involved monster extermination, which she was already an adept at. She spent her days, more often than not, out in the Pulse wilderness living much the way she had as a l’Cie. She slept under the stars, blazed trails, picked off monsters, and did whatever else her client—often their local government—asked her to do. It was familiar; comfortable. Two things Lightning liked.
In front of her, the campfire popped and a log shifted, sending a small cloud of embers up into the night. A few feet away, the figure of her companion sat, illuminated at his front by the cheery blaze, gazing pensively into the flames.
A boy of seventeen, he was almost all limbs. Long fingers clasped in front of long legs, upon which long arms rested on their elbows. His smooth face danced in light and shadow as he watched the fire without expression.
Hope Estheim. Lightning’s once charge and now frequent companion. He was her favorite partner for these missions; the one of their hodgepodge little band she got on with the most easily and naturally. The two of them had built a bond over the course of their adventure together which had remained after Cocoon’s crystallization.
Three years had changed him more than her, both physically and otherwise. He’d gained strength, height and maturity in spades, but even greater than those—and the thing that stood out to all who made his acquaintance—was his intelligence. Gifted in science and engineering, Hope had a reputation already within their settlement. He was esteemed, and seemed destined for greatness.
Despite this, he preferred to join her on her missions out on the wild plains of Pulse rather than remain cooped up in town studying or working on projects for his dad and Rygdea’s newly founded institute for research—the Academy. Little had changed about the boy as a person. He had the same compassionate heart; the same drive to help those in need and to make the world a better place. Lightning would never want these things about him to change. No matter how he grew and transformed, it was comforting to know that he would always be her Hope.
Her Hope…. The boy she’d met and befriended while Cocoon still hung in the sky. That’s what she meant. Lately, the notion had become somewhat hazy.
The fire popped again and seemed to wake her companion from his silent musing. He caught her eye and smiled. The flickering light dancing on his face lit his eyes and for a moment stole Lightning’s breath. He had a beautiful smile, and this was a version of it he saved just for her.
“Something on your mind?” he asked casually, stretching out his stiff arms toward the fire as he did so. He turned his palms outward and Lightning watched his interlinked fingers flex as his back arched. Her eyes followed the shifting of his shoulder blades beneath his shirt.
She shook her head, answering his smile with a small one of her own. “Not particularly. Just enjoying the evening. It’s a pleasant night.”
Hope made a humming noise of agreement. His eyes flicked around their small camp and then to the clear sky. He studied the heavens for a moment, seemingly enchanted as she’d been by their splendor.
“It is,” he spoke after a moment. “Warm… clear. A great night for camping. We got lucky.”
Lucky, Lightning thought. Lucky indeed to be spending this night with him rather than Snow or Sazh who would talk her ear off just to hear the sounds of their own voices.
Far across the plain, the crystallized Cocoon glowed softly against the rocky horizon and Lightning’s attention was drawn to it. No matter where she went on Pulse, it served as a beacon, standing proudly against the sky and saying, “This is home.” Wherever her missions took her, it would always show her the way back. It too was a comfort.
“Do you think Vanille and Fang are okay in there?” Hope pondered aloud. He’d followed the line of her gaze and was looking at the glowing curves and branches of the crystal pillar. “I sometimes wonder if they’re watching over us. Keeping an eye on what we’re up to.”
Lightning made a noncommittal noise in her throat. She genuinely hoped that was the case, though if she was honest, she also hoped they weren’t keeping too close an eye. Both would surely have some opinions about a few of the thoughts she’d been having recently.
The fire continued to crackle loudly in the peaceful night, and perhaps that’s why she didn’t notice Hope getting up from his seat. She only knew he’d moved when she felt the pressure of his hands appear on her shoulders. She craned her neck to look back at him inquiringly.
Hope gently set the fingers of his right hand on her cheek and steered her face back to the fire. He then gave her a nudge to indicate she should move to the ground. She did, and he settled on the low rock she’d been sitting on, his legs appearing on either side of her. He maneuvered her from behind so that she was comfortably situated in front of him, then his hands returned to her shoulders and he began to massage them, his thumbs kneading the tight muscles in her neck.
“You’ve been stiff all evening,” he said by way of explanation. “You overextended when we fought that megistotherion on the ridge.” His hands moved from her neck to her right arm and began massaging the muscles of her shoulder and bicep.
Lightning relaxed into Hope’s ministrations. This was another reason she preferred to partner with him. He paid attention to her, and combined with being a bit of a doter, he was always quick to attend to her needs. Without magic, battles were harder and they took their toll on her body. Hope did what he could to soothe her aches and patch her up between fights.
The feeling of Hope’s fingers deftly rubbing and kneading lulled her into something of a relaxed stupor. She let her head fall back against his stomach as he quietly tended to her arms and shoulders.
Being this near to him was, in truth, a little risky. She was acutely aware of being sandwiched between his legs, her upper back reclined against the juncture between them. Lately, Lightning found herself becoming increasingly aware of her partner as a male. When he’d been a kid, the attention he doted on her had been cute. Now that he was older, acting forwardly with her like this caused her thoughts to wander to not-so-innocent places. Sometimes she caught herself wondering what it would be like to provoke a reaction from him. What would it take to get his body to respond to her?
Lightning had never been with anyone sexually, and perhaps that’s where this curiosity stemmed from. She was aware of the mechanics of sex, but she had no first-hand experience with physical intimacy. Hope was young and fit; a desirable specimen of the male species. Her budding attraction to him made sense on a biological level. Maker take her, but he was a beautiful young man. She loved his features; the delicate curve of his eyes, his straight nose, the handsome cut of his jaw, his long, toned arms, his narrow waist. He was as tall as her now and still growing. He was marvelous. And when he touched her, she softened like putty.
It was a bit unconventional, she knew, her being seven years his elder, but more and more lately she found herself wanting to explore these feelings with him. He was the only one she would trust to do so.
Hope’s hands continued to slowly travel from muscle to muscle, easing the stiffness and knots from her tired body. She closed her eyes and focused on the feeling of his fingers, gentle but firm. She could hear him breathing above her and feel his stomach move with each inhale and exhale. He seemed completely at ease with her reclined between his legs, which was a little frustrating, as there was an undeniable feeling of shame that came with knowing one was out-hornying a teenage boy.
She really hoped that if Fang and Vanille were watching, they weren’t looking too closely at her in this moment.
Eventually, Hope’s hands ended their ministrations of her muscles and moved instead to comb lightly through her hair. This was new, but Lightning was in such a state of relaxation that it failed to rouse her to inquiry. She was nearly asleep, her chest moving slowly up and down as her breathing deepened.
Cocooned in the security of Hope’s presence, her eyelids drooped. Her last thoughts as she drifted off were of the starry sky: of the celestial rivers of pink and green that converged each night in the heavens when the sun was gone.
They too were a comfort.
Days passed. The fair weather held.
Two or three more nights and they would be home at last. The current mission had taken them a great distance across the steppe, nearly out to the sea. Throughout their journey, the familiar pattern of battle and rest had continued, and now both of them were aching for the comforts of home.
In Lightning’s case, she was afflicted with aches for some other things as well.
Since the night of Hope’s impromptu massage, her thoughts had been occupied more than ever by her companion. Specifically, by memories of his fingers on her skin and in her hair.
Any time there was a moment of rest, she would sneak a glance at him and her mind would wander back to that evening. It wasn’t unusual for Hope to be a little handsy with her—they had always been close and neither were shy about physical contact with the other—but it was as if that night was the pack that broke the chocobo’s back; the chocobo in this case being Lightning’s leash on her emotions.
Before, Lightning’s less-than-platonic yearnings had remained largely dormant save for the occasions when Hope touched her in specific ways. She was able to go about her life with minimal interruption from what she’d assumed were occasional intrusive thoughts. Now, some previously unknown floodgates had opened and she was being practically assaulted by thoughts of touching him; of testing their relationship in new ways.
Her reservations held her back. Muddying the waters was risky. Suggesting a romantic relationship was a difficult step to take with anyone, much less a seventeen-year-old. Much less with Hope.
Spending so much time together—being as close as they were—didn’t make it right. She would face far more than just the scrutiny of their friends if she stepped over that line with him.
She was just lonely, she attempted to convince herself. She was a healthy young woman in her prime and Hope was the only male around on a typical day. A starving gorgonopsid doesn’t care about the quality of a piece of meat that falls in its path.
It was a stupid analogy, she admitted.
Nonetheless, she determined not to act on any impulses her younger friend might inadvertently awaken in her. Lightning hadn’t fallen so low as to be controlled by her libido or by a seventeen-year-old boy. She repeated this conviction like a mantra as she and the boy in question once again went through the familiar motions of setting up camp.
The day had been long and grueling. They’d covered a lot of ground, much of which had been vertical as they passed through the mountains. Both were weary from the trek, but Hope was as chipper as ever as he made his report to Sazh over their radio while Lightning beat dust off their bedding and prepared to lay it out by the fire. Above their heads, the heavens stretched out to infinity, impossibly grand and unknowable in their great vastness.
Mortal problems always seemed far less significant under such a sky. As if each night the cosmos were chiding her for her hubris in thinking that anything she did or chose mattered. She glanced at her companion who was opening a tin of food with a small smile as he listened to Sazh talk about how much of an excited frenzy Snow had worked himself up into in the midst of Serah’s pregnancy.
Maybe that was true. Or maybe she was just looking for excuses.
“A baby is a wonderful thing,” the pilot was saying. “A true blessing. But the man is gonna give himself a stroke if he doesn’t ease up a little.”
Lightning watched Hope laugh as he discarded the top of the tin and spooned its contents into two bowls. “You can’t blame him for being excited. He’s been talking about becoming a father for years. And personally, I’m looking forward to being an uncle.”
Sazh snorted. “Don’t you mean a cousin, kid?”
Hope finished scraping out the contents of the tin and discarded it with the lid. As he did so, his eyes met Lightning’s and his lips tugged upward at the corners. He broke their gaze to pick up a knife to chop some herbs they’d picked up earlier in the day. “No,” he answered the pilot airily. “I don’t think I do.”
Lightning felt her face heat as she once again busied herself with her task—from her companion’s smile, of course, not his words. He certainly wasn’t inferring anything about her. Hope had no idea the kinds of thoughts she had about him. She kept those, and would continue to keep them, under careful lock and key.
Lightning finished setting up camp while Hope wrapped up his transmission with Sazh and set out their meal for the evening. They both took their usual spots by the fire to eat in comfortable silence. Lightning stifled a yawn between spoonfuls of potted meat and rice, which caused her companion to raise a brow. “The trip is catching up, hm?” he remarked. “Just a few more days till we’re home.”
Lightning set her mostly finished bowl aside to stretch her back and shoulders. She was looking forward to sleeping in a real bed. “First thing I’ll be doing is taking a shower,” she said, knocking her right foot against the rock she was sitting on to dislodge some of the caked on mud from her boot. It broke off and fell in a cascade of crumbles to the dirt. “You’ll have schoolwork to catch up on, I’m sure.”
“Tons,” Hope agreed. “But it’s fine. I can take most of it with me. Just gotta check in real quick before our next job.”
Lightning quirked a brow at the boy. “Already thinking about the next job?” she said with a bit of exasperation. “You should think more about your future.”
Hope set his spoon into his empty bowl and stood from his seat to return it to the makeshift table he’d used to prepare their meal. “I think about my future every day.” His shoes crunched on the dry earth as he approached her and held out his hand for her bowl which she handed over gratefully. “I’m exactly where I want to be.” He leaned down to give her a bone melting smile, his green eyes catching and holding her own for the span of several heartbeats before he straightened and turned from her to deliver her bowl to the table.
Lightning’s heart beat in her ears as she watched him clean up their dishes none the wiser to what he had just done to her.
Or… was that truly the case? For the first time, she wondered… could he, in fact, be cognizant of the effect he had on her? Sometimes it felt as if he must be, the way he acted. He wasn’t fourteen anymore. Innocence couldn’t excuse his actions forever. He was young still, but very perceptive. It was possible that he had picked up on some small hint that she’d let slip.
It was possible also that she was letting her preoccupation with him color her own perception, causing her to make connections that weren’t there. Hope had always admired her and looked up to her. He was treating her the same way he always had. It was she who was misconstruing his behavior to fit a narrative in line with her own changed desires.
She swiftly tore her gaze from her companion and redirected it to the glowing silhouette of Cocoon on the horizon. Just as Hope had said, soon they would be back. Their homecoming couldn’t come soon enough.
Hope finished clearing away their makeshift kitchen and padded quietly over to their bedrolls where he removed his shoes, tugging thoughtlessly at the laces to loosen them one by one before pulling them off and setting them by his bag. He then sat down on his bedroll and flopped backward to stare up at the sky. Lightning watched the firelight flicker across his face as he studied the stars.
“I think,” he spoke again unprompted, “this is what happiness is.”
Lightning raised an eyebrow at him from her perch a few feet away. He didn’t turn to look at her however so the motion passed unnoticed. Instead, he kept his gaze fixed on the heavens and slowly raised a hand upward as if he thought he could grasp the stars in his fingers. “The meaning of life,” he added.
“The sky?” Lightning said dubiously, halfway joking. “Camping?”
Hope’s lips pulled into a smile. He lowered his hand and extended both arms upward to thread his fingers together beneath his head. The path of his eyes didn’t waver. “Yep.”
Lightning snorted and leaned forward onto her feet. “If you say so.” She stood with a slight groan and took a moment to stretch her back and legs before following Hope’s lead and heading to her own pack to get what she needed to turn in for the night.
Her bedroll was right next to Hope’s, and when she’d finished preparing herself for sleep she copied him, reclining back to look at the stars. She laced her fingers together beneath her head just as he had done, and as she examined the sky, she thought about his proclamation.
This is what happiness is.
The stars twinkled in their great brushstrokes, high above their heads. The night air smelled fresh and alive. She could hear the soft, steady inhales and exhales of her partner on the bedroll beside hers. Around them, the plains of the Archylte Steppe spread, vast and open, whispering of boundless freedom.
The two of them… they could go anywhere. Do anything. They were beholden to no masters here in the great Pulse wilds. She and Hope. Just as they were right now.
“You’re considering it.”
Lightning started as Hope’s grinning face interrupted her line of vision. His eyes, dancing with light from the fire, watched her own with evident mirth. He’d scooted across the space between them to hover over her, supported atop one arm.
Lightning wrinkled her nose, belying how completely charmed she was by his smile. “You’re going to have to be more specific.”
“What I said,” he elaborated. “You’re thinking about how nice it is to be out here traveling through the wilderness. Admit it, you’re just as eager as I am to hit the road again.”
This time when Lightning wrinkled her nose, the action was more genuine. “I am looking forward to having a bath and seeing Serah,” she asserted. “We’ll talk about taking a new job after I’ve enjoyed a few nights sleeping in a proper bed.”
Hope’s smile didn’t waver. “Fair enough,” he said easily as he rolled back onto his bedroll.
That night, Lightning dreamed of green eyes hovering above her and a teasing grin—of their owner laughing as he swooped down to claim her mouth in a sweet kiss. He continued to smile against her mouth as they kissed a second, a third time. Lightning’s face was hot and her heart summersaulting in her chest when at last she woke to the breaking of a new day.
The following day was tough.
More fiends prowling the steppe would have been one thing, but the problem Lightning was facing was rather a lack thereof. The closer they came to civilization, the thinner the population of monsters on the plains became. The local defenders did their job well, and Lightning and Hope ran across only a few small pockets of lesser beasts—gremlins and goblins, mostly, and one energetic group of young gorgonopsids which ignored the two in favor of picking on a flock of sheep attempting to enjoy a watering hole.
Hope was in fine spirits as they continued their long trek to home. There was a skip in his step as they walked along the top of a tall ridge which lent a fantastic view of both Cocoon and the still far off settlement at its base—more a city now, after three years of humanity living and building on the surface.
“Home sweet home, eh Lightning?” He announced with a grin, turning around to look at her, as she’d been walking quietly behind him on the narrow path.
His grin promptly called the memories of her dream to the forefront of her thoughts. For the umpteenth time that day, Lightning relived the phantom warmth of his lips on hers. Heat bled into her face which she was unable to stymie.
She was spending too much time with Hope. That truth was clearer to her than ever. She was becoming obsessed, and she needed get away. Take a break. Something.
“Not long now,” she returned, shading her eyes to appear to him as though the sun were bothering her.
She would go on a date. That’s what she would do. She would take a few days off. Make some time to meet other people—romantic prospects of her own age.
She was broken from her musings when Hope stopped without warning. He’d turned from her and was looking once again out at the city on the horizon. His gloved hands clasped his elbows as he appeared to study the view with scrutiny.
Even from this distance, light from the sun reflected off Cocoon’s crystal pillar, illuminating it in hues of silver and gold.
“Do you ever think,” he said after a moment, his previously jovial tone turning serious, “about how we were once a part of something so great? Something so much bigger than us.” His weight shifted from his left foot to his right but his gaze never strayed from the horizon as he spoke. “Compared to what we went through back then, everything else just…feels so small.”
Lightning made a motion to join him where he stood but he turned to look at her before she could take a step and his expression caused her to falter and remain where she was.
“Our problems,” he continued, his mouth set in a line of serene maturity. He watched her levelly with steady green eyes. “I don’t want to let anything hold me back from taking every ounce of joy from this life. Because we fought for it.” He turned his face then to look at the crystal pillar. “And because we owe it to them, I think.”
Lightning stood, wordless, for a time as she considered her companion, and also what to say.
The Hope who stood before her in this moment held no shadow of the boy she remembered from three years ago. The confident line of his back; the direct, unfaltering path of his gaze; the sturdiness with which he bore himself; all of these traits were unique to the young man in front of her.
“Right,” she said at last, her voice manifesting as somewhat of a croak. “I think so too.”
Hope turned his head again to regard her for a moment, then he smiled and turned fully to face her. He released his elbows and held out his left hand in offer to her.
The gesture could have come off as strange. Were it anyone else making the offer, Lightning would raise an eyebrow and wait for a very convincing explanation for their actions. There was no need; no tricky terrain to cross nor diminished visibility.
And yet, none of these truths ever entered her thoughts. For Hope, there was no notion in her mind to question it. She raised her hand and let him grasp it, allowing him to lead her as they continued their hike across the ridge.
Natural. Easy. A comfort.
Blue skies eventually dimmed and were soon replaced by the fiery orange of sunset. Lightning and Hope stopped once more to set up camp.
If they were lucky, this would be their last night on the plains. With fewer monsters to stand in their way, their pace had improved. They were making great time and it seemed likely their luck would hold out the following day.
The two wordlessly busied themselves with their duties. A campfire was built, bedrolls were laid out, dinner was prepared, weapons were inspected. Lightning and Hope took turns washing as best they could in a nearby spring. The evening was routine in every way.
“You’re coming home tomorrow?” Serah’s voice crackled as it was relayed through their radio.
“If all goes well,” Lightning confirmed. She shared a look with Hope across their camp and added, “We’ll try.”
The radio stayed silent for a moment. Then Serah’s voice came again, an odd quality coloring it. “No hurry. Your dear sister is pregnant with her first child but please, take your time.”
Remorse and guilt crashed over Lightning like a wave. “Serah… I’m sorry. We’ll be there as soon as possible.”
Movement in the corner of her eye momentarily stole her attention from the radio. Hope had a hand over his mouth and his shoulders were shaking.
A laugh burst from the radio. “I’m kidding!” Serah’s voice came again, full of mirth. “I’m only six months along. There’s still plenty of time till I’m due. Really, there’s no rush.”
While Lightning turned her attention once more to the radio, Hope came up beside her. He was wearing an amused grin.
“I just wanna see you,” Serah went on. “You’ve been gone for nearly three weeks and Snow won’t let me leave the house for more than an hour a day. I’m bored out of my mind.”
“We will be back soon,” Lightning assured her sympathetically. “And remember, you only need to put up with it a little while longer. The baby will come sooner than you think.”
“Three months,” her sister groaned pathetically. “Don’t ever get pregnant.”
Lightning smiled at her sister’s theatrics. “I don’t intend to. Not anytime in the near future, in any case.”
Serah’s only reply was a noise of exaggerated misery which caused both listeners to chuckle.
The two sisters finished up their call as the sky changed from yellow to inky violet and the stars winked into existence. Hope passed over her dinner, still wearing an amused smirk.
“And what are you so tickled about, Hope?” she asked flatly, raising her brows at her partner.
Hope took a seat on the ground and poked his spoon into his meal. “Nothing much,” he answered breezily. “Just imagining you pregnant.”
Lightning blinked at him. Despite her best effort to will it away, familiar heat crept into her cheeks. She turned her attention deliberately to the bowl in her lap. “I know better than to choose a partner like Snow,” she asserted, keeping her tone strictly neutral. “Like hell am I going to let some overprotective buffoon tell me what I can and can’t do.”
Hope made a sound that was difficult to interpret and caused her eyes to lift back to him. He was watching her with a more subdued levity. “Snow is just worried,” he stated matter of factly. “You know he’s been waiting ages for this. He just wants to make sure his wife and child are safe and healthy.”
“Not that I don’t agree,” she followed. “But Snow takes things to extremes. A little exercise won’t kill her.”
Hope smiled and shrugged. Absently, he stirred the contents of his bowl. “Probably,” he acknowledged. “I mean, I’m with you that he’s a lot. But I wonder if I wouldn’t be the same if I were in his situation.” He lifted the spoon to his mouth. His eyes and looked upward thoughtfully. He was silent for a moment as he chewed his food, then he lowered the spoon back into the bowl and, looking back at her, added, “I definitely see where he’s coming from. I would want to protect the mother of my child from doing anything overly reckless.”
Lightning studied the young man across from her with arched eyebrows. Blandly, she said, “I think you have a few good years before you’ll have to worry about it.”
Hope’s smile returned and he shrugged again as he stuck his spoon back into his bowl.
They ate in silence for a time as they focused on finishing their meals. Then, like clockwork, Hope breezed their bowls away for cleanup and Lightning was left to stare into the gently popping, dancing flames of their cheery campfire.
It was funny, she thought, how the world beneath the stars could feel at once so enormous and so small.
The last night, she mused to herself. Then back to the bustle of society. Confusingly, she wasn’t feeling as eager to return now as she had been that morning. She dipped her head back to watch the sky, as so often she found herself doing. The stars winked back, unconcerned and jovial in their celestial crib.
“Freeing, I know.”
Hope was back from his chore. He sat down beside her on the wide rock she’d chosen as her perch. His legs stretched straight out momentarily as he stretched his muscles, no doubt weary from the day.
“Out here there are no rules,” he added when he’d relaxed. “No expectations. Couldn’t find a place like this on Cocoon.”
Lightning hummed in agreement. Perhaps that’s what it was. Out here in the wilderness she didn’t have to put on airs for anyone. There was no polite conversation or superiors to obey or guidelines for what was good and proper. Society came with roles, limits, social navigation and judgement. Far be it from her to care much about what others thought, but that in itself was often the problem. Out here, her world ended with the light of the campfire. The only things that mattered existed within its flickering glow.
Hope chuckled softly. “Can’t say I ever expected my life to take this turn. If you’d told me three years ago that I’d be camping in the Pulse wilds as a career choice I’d have walked away and probably warned everyone around that you were nuts.” He lifted a leg onto the rock to rest his left arm atop it as he watched the sky alongside her. “But in the end, I’m glad. We went through a lot, but we have a good life here. If we can just bring Fang and Vanille back, I think I’ll be able to call myself nearly satisfied.”
Lightning, who had been listening to her companion talk wordlessly, dropped her gaze from the stars to regard him with interest. “Nearly?”
He smiled and met her gaze. The hand not on his knee rose and he made a pinching gesture, the pads of his pointer finger and thumb suspended just shy of contact with one another. “Nearly.” He dropped his hand to rest on the stone between them and leaned back watch the sky again. Above their heads, a shooting star streaked across the heavens. “What about you, Light? Are you happy?”
Lightning continued to watch her partner’s face in profile instead of returning to her study of the cosmos. The years had elongated his features; sharpened away much of the boyishness that had once softened his face. If someone had told her three years ago that her heart would fill her throat at the mere sight of him, she would have asked which mental hospital they escaped from and probably clocked them for good measure. Hope had been speaking for both of them when he talked of the unexpected turn their lives had taken.
In answer to his question, she said, “Happy? That’s a somewhat different metric from satisfaction.”
Hope’s lips turned upward at the corners in amusement. It always seemed to tickle him when she argued semantics. “Either-or, then.”
She considered it for a moment. She wasn’t unhappy or unsatisfied, she supposed. All things considered, the situation they’d wound up in wasn’t the worst. Life on the surface was harder than life on Cocoon had been, but it was a good, productive kind of hard. They’d done a lot of growing up since moving down to Pulse. Humanity was moving forward on their own two legs—no masters or guardians to coddle them and keep them happy and safe. Lightning could honestly say she preferred it this way.
She echoed Hope’s amused smile and lifted a hand to catch his attention. She rearranged her fingers into a near-pinching gesture. “Nearly,” she said, matching his cheekiness.
Hope grinned and righted his posture. His left foot joined its partner on the ground and he leaned forward slightly to look her properly in the face. His silver eyebrows sat high on his forehead. “Fine,” he half laughed. “So what would it take to make it ‘completely’?”
The darkness should have made his expression hard to read, but with red tongues of flame casting golden light across his face and the gentle glow of Cocoon as a backdrop she could see him perfectly. His eyes watched her patiently, his interest apparent.
Unfortunately for him, Lightning really didn’t want to answer that.
The fact of the matter was that there was really only one source of dissatisfaction in her life and it was sitting right in front of her: This young man who had taken her over: heart, mind and body.
The line of Hope’s mouth straightened and his eyebrows furrowed seriously. He turned his body so that the knee of his right leg pressed against her left and leaned in so that his face was right in front of hers. His gaze on hers was steady and intent. “Tell me what you want, Light.”
The sudden change in his demeanor threw Lightning off guard. The fact that he was so close didn’t help matters. She was finding it hard to conjure any thoughts of strains other than the handsomeness of the boy in front of her.
She hesitated; suspended in the crux of her thoughts and urges.
“Tell you what I want,” she repeated a little breathlessly. Injecting a note of lightheartedness into her tone, she asked, “And you’ll get it for me?”
Hope’s gaze didn’t waver. “If you let me.”
Lightning started, taken completely aback by his answer. Heat washed into her face. She didn’t know how to interpret his statement but she felt flustered nonetheless.
Her confusion must have been obvious because Hope’s mouth quirked once more into a smile and he elaborated. “I said I would look out for you, remember?”
Lightning exhaled, the return of Hope’s usual humor stealing some of the tension from her body. She chuckled lowly. “That’s what this is about?”
“Kinda.” He pulled away to look back up at the sky. His eyes travelled along the greens and pinks of the celestial rivers. Lightning followed the path of his gaze until it landed on the luminous sphere which lit land and sky with its calming glow: Cocoon. He studied it for a long moment during which no words were shared between them.
“The past is the past,” he said at last. “What we have now is now. What we choose to do with it is up to us. I think that for the sakes of everyone who was lost in the process of us getting here, we have a responsibility to live these lives we’re lucky enough to still have to the fullest.”
He startled her by turning abruptly back to look at her again. The curve of his mouth was serious once more. “I want to live by my word. The only future I care about is the one where I get to do that.”
Lightning’s breath was once again stuck somewhere in her chest. “Meaning?”
Hope smirked. “Meaning that I’ve answered the question already. Now it’s your turn. What do you want, Light?”
Maker, but the boy was too clever for his own good. He’d skillfully backed her into a corner.
“Or should I try to guess?” he surprised her by asking before she had a chance to even assess her options. He was leaning toward her again, his eyebrows raised playfully.
Lightning fought within herself to face him coolly and unfalteringly—to maintain the illusion of the perfect, unflappable soldier—though a shiver which swept through her from his proximity caused goose flesh to rise on her arms. If he could guess the fantasies that featured in her daydreams then she was arsed in any case, so she said simply, “Shoot.”
She should have remembered that Hope was a smart boy. No, perhaps it was because she knew he was that she so readily accepted his challenge. A very large, not so secret part of her wanted him to see through her and put an end one way or another to this turmoil inside her. So it was that when his face drew suddenly close to hers, her only thought was to close her eyes and await whatever was to come.
When Hope pressed his lips to hers, the contact was feather light and tentative—more akin to the shy boy of three years ago than the seventeen-year-old who exuded confidence and charm. It was a sweet kiss which conveyed sincerity and tenderness, but desire was there as well. Lightning neither returned it nor pulled away from the contact, though inside, her heart was doing flips in her chest.
After a moment which seemed at once long and infinitesimal Hope broke the kiss and pulled back to look at her. Lightning exhaled through her nose and regarded him with as much manufactured calm as she could muster in the moment. “And what makes you think that’s what I wanted?” she asked, her voice gravelly in her own ears.
Whatever her other feelings, she was pleased to see that Hope’s cheeks appeared darker in the light of the fire.
“Just that you and I are usually on the same page,” he answered, sounding a little breathless himself now. “Kinda hoped this would be the same.” He smiled and his eyes travelled to the side guiltily.
Lightning’s heart was pounding. Hope had just admitted that he wanted the same thing as her. The thought of it was exhilarating. She knew her own feelings well enough, but while it was without question that she and Hope were close, she’d always doubted that he shared them. He was charming and popular enough among his peers to have any girl he wanted. At twenty-four, she wasn’t a spinster by any stretch, but she was older enough than him that it was a little strange for her to be his first choice.
Then again, he was hers, and the two of them had always been a little strange.
She cleared her throat softly to pull his attention back to her. “This is what you want?” she asked him seriously.
Hope’s cheeks still burned crimson as he looked her boldly in the eye. “Make fun of me if you want,” he said evenly. “I am the way I am and I’m ready to own it. There’s no one for me but you.”
The desire to smile—to grin—crashed over her like a wave. There weren’t many times in her life that she’d felt giddy, and certainly none since she’d joined the Guardian Corps, but hearing Hope’s confession made Lightning feel like a girl in the schoolyard again.
“I suppose this changes things, then,” she said, schooling her emotions for both Hope’s sake and hers. She did crack a small smile which caused Hope to exhale audibly in relief.
“It doesn’t have to,” he said quickly.
“Unless…” His lips stretched into a tentative grin. “Unless I was right about us being on the same page?”
Lightning hummed low in her throat. “And if I said you were?”
The way Hope’s eyes lit up and he leaned close to her again gave away his answer before he even said it. “Then a few things might have to change.”
Close up, his eyes sparkled mischievously in the flickering light of the fire. They could have been mirrors of the starry sky all around them. Absently, she wondered if hers looked the same to him. Her lips still tingled from his kiss. She wouldn’t be at all opposed to being kissed by him again.
He chuckled then and shook his head. His silver hair swayed with the motion. “Really, though, I’m plenty happy just the way we are.” His starry eyes smiled at her and one of his hands moved to gently grasp her upper arm. “I just wanna be with you.”
Lightning’s heart gave a pleasant squeeze in her chest. She felt her lips stretch into an answering smile. She lowered her head in acknowledgement. “Just don’t expect me to be experienced,” she warned him. “I’m as new to this as you are.”
Her warning caused Hope to laugh out loud. It wasn’t a derisive or condescending laugh, but one of pure joy. His laughing face was beautiful even in the soft light of the night.
An errant thought crossed Lightning’s mind, in that star-spangled snapshot in time, that if her world never grew beyond the light of the campfire, that would be just fine with her.
“We’ll just have to learn together,” he said in the tone of someone providing a simple solution to a simple problem. His grip on her arm tightened and he drew in close. “I’ll meet you halfway?”
A sound proposition. Nothing sounded better to Lightning in that moment.
Hope leaned in to meet her as she dipped her head forward. The motion felt surprisingly natural. Their lips connected as easily as if they’d kissed a dozen times before. For something that had seemed just that morning such a hurdle, kissing him was astonishingly simple.
Natural. Easy. A comfort.
With Hope, it always was.