Chapter Text
Lightning was used to quiet afternoons, mostly. Adjusting from carrying the fate of the world on her shoulders with a ticking clock to spending days at a time doing nothing had been... irksome. Confusing. Long, scenic train rides were a bother until Serah suggested listening to audiobooks. Sure, it had instantly turned into an addiction, but the stories eased her racing mind.
She stood silently in front of a jewelry store now, mere minutes from her destination, held captive by the elderly woman who’d stopped her to compliment her looks and then proceeded to tell her granddaughter’s life story.
“I was so against her dyeing her hair—but, lo and behold, pink looks better on her than blonde ever did! Not that I’d say it to her face.”
She’d be late at this rate. Lightning was supposed to be meeting Hope at a café. It’d be their first time seeing one another, flesh and emotions intact, in... one thousand years. It didn’t feel quite that long, of course. Not usually. Sometimes, it felt longer. Her long-fought battle in Valhalla had likely—definitely skewed her perception of time.
Maybe she just missed him.
“Anyhow, I’d best be off. My husband might buy a lottery ticket if he gets too bored.”
The woman finally walked off with a spring in her step, only to immediately greet another passerby by name and start chatting up a storm. Lightning shook her head with a small smirk. Maybe she’d be that carefree someday. The mere fact of combat not being part of her routine was already a huge step. She’d certainly considered enrolling in a martial arts class more than once, though. It was something she could sort out later. Right now, she needed to hurry. She quickened her pace from a saunter to a powerwalk, continuously scanning for divots and pebbles on the street. She just had to wear heels today.
Lightning sped past a number of modestly decorated storefronts and blooming trees, a small church, and a couple of restaurants before finally halting in front of a sign with concise chalk writing:
Coffee
Tea
Pastries
Simple and clean. This was the place. All she had to do was enter. Slowly. The walk had made her feet heavy, or so she told herself. She approached as if there were some danger lurking inside, opening the door just enough to peek through and then slipping into the cramped entryway. Tall windows made the place seem larger, but waiters and patrons alike were weaving between tables to get anywhere.
“Good afternoon,” greeted the hostess perched on a stool with worn-out leather. Despite the young woman’s choice of seat, her tone of voice was professional and confident. “Party of one?”
Lightning took another sweep of the place, finding only unfamiliar faces. “Two. We have a reservation.”
“Estheim?” the woman asked.
An ache thrummed in Lightning’s chest. She couldn’t possibly be this excited, could she? If so... how embarrassing. She nodded, and the hostess started toward the back of the café with a slight wave of her hand. “This way, please.”
Lightning followed and, miraculously, reached the other side of the building without tripping or bumping into a chair. The hostess stopped at a door under an exit sign. A strip of duct tape held a sheet of paper reading RESERVED just above the handle. “He hasn’t been waiting long,” the hostess said as she opened the door, blissfully incognizant of how tragically, hilariously incorrect her words were.
“Thanks,” Lightning said before stepping out onto the sandstone terrace. The murmurs of other patrons vanished as the door shut behind her, leaving the serene image of the countryside’s rolling hills. She could even see the train tracks she’d ridden into town on if she squinted. Of course, the view wasn’t the reason she came here. The reason she came here was sitting alone at the table furthest from her, and he looked like he’d seen a ghost.
Maybe Lightning looked the same way. They both stared in silence. To Hope’s credit, he was at least able to move. He rose to his feet and staggered over to her, each step a clash of urgency and hesitation.
“You,” he started. He was smiling, but not naturally. Fear flickered in his eyes, quick glints of doubt poisoning his gaze.
“Light, are you real?”
She’d been nervous to see him. He’d been terrified to discover he’d been chasing an illusion, that she somehow hadn’t made it to the world they’d won. That wasn’t the case, of course. Lightning would put an end to that fear right now. That look in his eyes pained her, and it didn’t suit him besides.
“I mean,” Hope tried to correct. “I’m really…”
Lightning lifted her hand without a word and flicked Hope’s forehead with enough force to leave a small blemish.
Hope blinked, fully hushed by the gesture. The crease in his brow eased, his stiff shoulders slackened with an exhale, and the uncertainty in his gaze dissipated as if burned away by a purifying flame hotter than the sun. He was here. She was here. They were together, at long, long last. As if to further confirm the fact, Hope embraced her. Both arms wrapped around her frame, his hold firm but not suffocating. In fact, he’d given Lightning just enough wiggle room to reciprocate, only she couldn’t be bothered to hold back. She nearly squeezed the breath out of him, but he made no complaints. Good. She didn’t want to let go just yet.
“I missed you, Light,” Hope said. They both knew that. But if he wanted to say it, she’d listen to him say it a thousand times.
“I… me, too.” Now Lightning was the one fumbling her words. “I missed you.”
Every second they held one another, Lightning felt her nerves easing. The anticipation, the uncertainty, and all the feelings she couldn’t care to name gradually settled into an overwhelming sense of peace. Then and only then did she take a single step back.
“Coffee?” Lightning asked. “Since we’re here.”
“In the middle of the afternoon?” Hope laughed. Lightning gibed at him some more as they returned to the table—
“You seem like the type.”
“I’ll have you know I’ve cut back since my time at the Academy.”
“I hope that also means you’re not pulling all-nighters at work.”
“Well…”
Hope sat down in the chair where he’d been waiting, and Lightning took the seat across from him. Only two glasses of water, a paper menu, and a dull blue button sat on the table. Hope rotated the menu and slid it over to Lightning. “Get anything you want,” he insisted, as if she wasn’t positioned to hand her credit card to their waiter before he ever got the chance. Lightning glanced over the menu. The drink didn’t really matter. She just wanted to keep talking to Hope. She slid the menu back over.
“That was quick,” Hope noted. He pressed the blue button. “Were you craving something in particular?”
“Not really,” Lightning said. “You?”
“I may be partial to a hot oat milk matcha latte.”
“Interesting.” Lightning didn’t press.
“Yes, it’s trendy, but it’s delicious,” Hope said. “What are you getting?”
Lightning heard the door open behind her and glanced over her shoulder. A waiter with a ponytail came straight to their table, adjusting his apron as he walked. “How are we?” he asked.
“Great,” Hope said. “We’d like to order.”
“Have at it,” the waiter said.
“Thanks. I’ll take a small matcha latte served hot. With oat milk, please.” He gestured to Lightning. “And whatever she’s having.”
“A small rose tea, please,” Lightning said. “That’s all.”
“Understood,” the waiter said. “Do you want to keep that menu or should I take it off your hands?”
Lightning looked to Hope, who looked right back at her. “I think that’s all we’ll be having today.”
The waiter picked up the menu. “Then I’ll be back in a flash.” He jogged off with that, leaving the pair to their conversation.
Hope sighed and sunk into his chair. “We have a lot of catching up to do. To put it mildly.”
“Yeah,” Lightning said. She looked out at the lush landscape. “Where do we even start?” Careers? Travel? The news? Something told her they shouldn’t jump straight into trauma bonding.
“Good question.” Hope’s lips formed a slight pout as he searched that giant brain of his for a topic. “Have you picked up any new hobbies?”
“Serah got me into audiobooks,” Lightning admitted. “Jury’s still out on martial arts.” She really hadn’t been up to much else, aside from working and checking in on her friends. “You?”
“Gardening,” Hope said. “I never had the time before. I hardly have the time now, but there’s a surprising number of prototypes I get to take home from work, which I can sometimes rework into automated— I’ll stop myself there.”
Lightning rested her elbow on the table, and her chin in her palm. “Go on. You sound excited.”
Hope adjusted his shirt collar. “Ah, well…”
The door opened again. The waiter brought their drinks and set them on the table with a quiet, “Here you go,” and made himself scarce quickly. Good. Lightning wanted to hear more about Hope’s geeky exploits.
“They were going to throw out some early prototypes for a water cooling system,” Hope said. “I wasn’t on the project. It was more of a right place, right time situation. I ended up taking them home and long story short, a pet project turned into an automated watering system. It saves time.”
“What are you growing?” Lightning asked. She took a sip of her tea—floral, but not overpowering.
“I’m trying my hand at tomatoes and squash. Whether I’ll succeed is anyone’s guess.”
Lightning had assumed he’d have scienced his way to a fruitful harvest, but even genius takes time. “I’m sure you’ll end up with something edible. Maybe put some of those tomatoes in a salad.”
“That’s not a bad idea,” Hope said. “My mother loved a good salad.” He took a long, savory sip of his latte.
“Mine, too,” Lightning said. Memories of her mother when she was well had long since grown dull, but bits and pieces persisted. “Before she got sick, she loved to have this big salad with anything and everything in it. I thought it was gross. I remember Serah wanted to try it, so she let her.” She laughed inwardly. “She spat it right back out.”
Hope laughed with her. The sound warmed her in a different way than the tea did. She could get used to it; reminiscing on her most precious of memories with someone precious to her.
“I was such a picky eater as a kid,” Hope sighed. “It’s ironic, considering literally everything on Gran Pulse was a thousand times more flavorful than what we had on Cocoon.”
“And how does Gran Pulse compare to the food here?” Lightning asked. “In this world, I mean.”
“The best food is here for sure,” Hope said decisively. “Nothing tastes better than freedom.”
How corny. Lightning let it slide. She wanted more of… whatever this was. Easygoing moments of learning more about each other, idle chatter, and nice weather. She wanted to learn more about this town and the surrounding area, about Hope’s work and his leisurely tinkering. His favorite things. Inconsequential facts like whether he could flip an omelet.
Lightning looked into her cup, almost empty. “I don’t think I’ll see enough of this place in a few days.” She hadn’t stuck to one place long, either going where her career took her or visiting the others for peace of mind. She’d stayed with Serah for a few weeks at a time, but refused to call anyplace “home”. Not yet. Hope was the final person she had to see before she could even think about what came next.
Now that she’d seen him, she found herself averse to the idea of “next” if it meant leaving him again.
“I guess I’ll have to extend my stay,” Lightning mused on. “Are you particularly busy these days?”
“Oddly enough, I’ve been considering taking some time off work.” Hope gave a playful smirk into his mug, but his eyes told a different story. They held something beyond joy or relief that Lightning couldn’t quite describe, but whatever emotion it was looked beautiful on him. Perhaps something similar shone in her own eyes. Maybe they’d figure it out together over the weeks to come.
Or maybe, Lightning would acknowledge the obvious.