A Distance of Seven Inches [4/4]
Title: A Distance of Seven Inches / He’s trying. Really. [4/4]
Author: Me, Chibi.
Genre: Humour/Romance in strides.
Characters/Pairings: Hope’s point of view, more or less. HopexLightning + the FFXIII crew.
Rating/Warnings: PG. All worksafe, of course. Longest part for the ending!
Summary: (For this part) Hope’s growth to 5'7", including -- well, Hope finally spills the beans.
Notes: UNKNOWN PLACEMENT IN PLOT AU. More notes at the end of the fic, of course. <3
5’7” - Goal.
Monday.
“Lightning, I love you . . . wait - Éclair, I love you. (Yeah, that sounds better.) I-I mean, not that kind of childish kid thing - a-and not like a sibling or anything either! I mean like. . . a real like. As a person, as a woman. I-I’ve liked you ever since you gave me that knife, o-or even, before then. I still have it - the knife - by the way, it’s in my room actually-b-but that’s not the point. The. . . the thing is, I’m hoping you see me the same way. I mean, as a man. I-I’m not a kid anymore, so-“
“You know, I don’t think the fridge is a good practice partner.”
Hope twisted to see Fang and Vanille behind him, and blushed furiously. “Though they’re similar enough. They’re both cold and hard to move,” Fang clapped a hand on the young man’s shoulder, looking him over. “So, how tall are you now?”
Hope beamed. “Five Seven on the dot.” Vanille giggled with glee.
“Congratulations! See, it only took a couple years, and you’re all grown up now!”
He had grown, that was true. It hadn’t occurred to him as much as it had to the others around him. His childish face was slowly but surely maturing, but keeping that softness that his eyes brought. His legs made up most of his body, lankiness purely from the phase. “Teenage boy syndrome - or TBS,”He Sazh had called it with a laugh. “Eat a lot, don’t gain a pound, but ya’ grow taller and taller and taller.”
“So after all this time, surely you’ve made some kind of plan on confessing to your puma?” Fang interrupted his daze.
“. . . Not really,” Hope muttered sheepishly, flustered. “And she’s not a puma.”
“If she accepts you, she is.”
“B-but -“
“You might wanna be careful, though,” Vanille warned in a singsong tone. “I was talking to Serah, and apparently Lightning’s been doing a lot of work lately. She’s kind of moody, it seems.
“. . . Well, more than usual, anyhow,” Vanille added on from a quick afterthought.
Hope sighed. “Great. Really winding up to a good situation for me,” He grinned sarcastically with a roll of his eyes.
Tuesday
He stood outside the Guardian Corps offices, nervously fingering the strap of his messenger bag. She should be coming out soon, he told himself for the seventh time over the past ten minutes. He had conveniently taken to staying at Serah and Snow’s place in Bodhum this time around - claimed it was to check out post-secondary options, he did.
“Y’need something?” A sandy haired Guardian corps - a grunt, by the looks of the shoulderguard colour - asked, stopping before entering to look over Hope.
“Ah, no, not really. I’m just waiting for Light - Er, sergeant Lightning,” Hope answered, clearing his throat. The soldier gave him a quizzical look.
“Huh, didn’t think the sergeant knew any kids,” he laughed - or was that a scoff? “How old are you, boy? fifteen?”
“Sixteen, actually. Almost seventeen,” Hope answered, trying to keep the tongue-in-cheek tone to a minimum.
“Is there any reason for your delay, sir?” A calm voice asked from the door. The soldier turned around and stood at attention, saluting and muttering an apology before shuffling into the building.
“What’re you doing here?” Lightning returned her attention to the ashen haired boy waiting at the doorstep.
“I’m gonna be in town for a while. I just wanted to. . . see you. Serah said you were at work, so. . . yeah,” He finished kind of lamely, but smiled nonetheless. The constant droop to her mouth stilled for a minute, though she gave him something of a half-smile.
“I don’t mind seeing you,” She said, “but I’m still in the middle of a shift. And I’ll be home late tonight, so I’ll see if I can arrange some free time tomorrow.” She let him absorb that before continuing. “Sound good?”
“Uh, yeah!” He was staring dumbly for a minute - all the courage he had summed up drowning slightly - before answering. “Tomorrow, sure. Yeah. I’m staying at Snow’s place, so you can find me . . . I-I guess I’ll leave you to your work then!” He gave a cheerful wave, before turning to walk off. He had walked a little to quickly away, he realized in hindsight.
Lightning leaned against the door and watched him go.
“. . . Well, at least he didn’t drop himself in an awkward situation in the middle of my house this time.”
Wednesday
He debated all morning about calling her. Was it too eager? Or did she need a reminder? Surely she’d remember. If she didn’t, he’d have no chance anyhow. He looked at his cellphone, as well as the home phone. Cellphone. Home phone. Cellphone. Home phone. Cellphone. Home phone.
“Augh, I haven’t even told her anything yet!” He despaired to the empty house. Serah and Snow had both gone to work, leaving him in the abode. He ran his hands rather violently through his bed head. He paced about, moving from the kitchen to the living room and back. The minute the phone rang (The home phone, that is) he practically leaped over the couch to get it.
“Yes, hello?!”
“. . . Hope?”
It was her, oh crap it was her and he practically screamed into the receiver. He balled his free hand, quite ready to punch himself in the vocal chords so he could never speak again and save the world - well, save himself - from any more verbal disasters. He exhaled, and returned to the phone.
“Yeah, it’s me,” He was as casual as possible. “So, are you free today?”
“No, actually,” She sighed. “The colonel just dumped a mountain of paperwork on me. I won’t have more than fifteen minute breaks in between if I want to finish this."
He was about to protest, no, fifteen minutes is enough! But decided against it. For one, it was far too desperate-sounding, and two, he wasn’t completely sure he could get the words right knowing he had a fifteen minute timeline. (And, he would like to think that if he confessed his love in the middle of her workday, she wouldn’t be able to get any work done. He would like to think.)
“No worries,” He passed it off. “Maybe . . .tomorrow? I’m off school, so I don’t really have a time limit. . .”
“I’ll see,” Lightning agreed after a quick moment of thought.
Thursday
No sign of Lightning. At all.
No calls, no messages. Hope had even phoned her, but no response. She must be at work, he assumed.
Well, there’s always tomorrow. . .
Friday
Found out why Lightning was basically missing.
“Sick?” Hope parroted into the phone.
“Yeah, sorry,” Lightning rasped on the other end. “I slept all yesterday. I should be fine soon though. . .”
“D-do you want me to come over? I’ll make you something to eat and -“
“No, it’s fine,” She cut in, “You’re better off not catching it.”
“But -“
click.
Saturday
So, ‘no time limit’ turned into ‘your train leaves at 11am on Sunday’. His dad called, and he was needed at home. Dammit.
He held his resolve. He was going to do this, and do this now.
That’s what he planned, anyhow. Standing at Lightning’s door, he wasn’t so sure how smoothly this plan would go.
He pressed the buzzer. A mangled, “Who is it?” came through the intercom.
“It’s Hope,” He steeled himself as he spoke, “I know you’re still sick but I really need to talk to you.”
A silent moment. “Okay, make it quick.”
Lightning answered the door soon after, and if Hope wasn’t holding onto his resolve with all his might, he might’ve made a joke. Poor Lightning was the image of sick - dressed in an ugly old t-shirt and battered sweatpants rolled to the knee, her hair tied out of the way and was that a tissue stuck up her left nostril? Her eyes were dazed and her face was red with fever.
She sniffled, kind of disgustingly. All snot-filled and such. “What do you need, Hope?” She wiped her nose along her bare wrist, taking out the tissue in her nose in the process, letting him step past her into the entrance hall.
“Do you mind if we sit down somewhere? Like I said, it’s. . . important.”
Lightning shook her head. “I’m sorry, maybe another time,” She sighed. “I know I keep cancelling on you, but I just feel like crap-“
“Please, I just-just really need to tell you!” He wasn’t irritated, it wasn’t pleading. He just wanted a minute, something, some spare bit of her time just to get this off his chest. It was going to eat away at him.
She was puzzled by his forwardness. He took the moment of surprise to step forward and take her by the shoulders. Shoulders parallel to his. Shoulders equal to his.
“Light, I know you’re sick, and I know this isn’t the best time -“ He hissed an inhale, “But I’ve been trying to just get one minute alone with you. I’ve been trying so hard to talk to you because I wanted to tell you I like you and - Oh.”
Crap. This wasn’t planned at all. Well, run with it! She seemed stunned enough, or was that her cold putting her out of sorts?
“Hope, what do you -“ She began, looking around. He loosened his grip on her shoulders, from a vice to a gentle hold. He made sure to look straight at her.
“Lightning Farron, I’m in love with you.”
Her eyes were wide, wider than he’d ever seen them. She opened her mouth, and closed it again. Since his mouth was apparently so terribly good at talking, he took that opportunity to continue.
“I know you always see me as a kid, but - but I’m older now. Look at me, Light. I’m as tall as you, even!”
She took that minute to look him over. He was right. His shoulders squared where hers did.
And then a blush ran furiously over her face, doubling the redness of her fever. She brought a hand to her forehead. “I . . . I don’t know . . . I-I-“ she stammered.
He was afraid of this. He pulled her forward, keeping his skinny arms around her. How . . . feminine, the attention deficit part of his mind noticed, her hair smells like fruit.
“You don’t have to answer now, but I really wanted to tell you. I’ve waited so long. . . L-Lightning?”
He had originally taken it as her accepting his hug, but she kind of slumped forward. And wasn’t supporting her own weight. She almost slipped out of his grip. “Light?” He tried again, no response. He looked at her face. For a moment, he thought she had fallen asleep, but her forehead was burning into his shoulder.
“O-oi!” She slipped a little in his grip, limp as a noodle. The door swung open.
“Hey, sergeant sickness, door was open so we’re here to take care of ya’ for the da-“
Snow and Serah came into the entry hall to be greeted by a bewildered Hope half holding up an unconscious Lightning like a bad puppeteer.
Silence.
- - - - -
Serah buried her face in her hands with a groan. “Her fever put her to sleep right after you told her?! Augh, that girl -“
“It was probably this, too.” Hope motioned over his shoulder to the open bottle of night time cold relief. The label blatantly promoted ‘have you sleeping in minutes!’.
They had moved Lightning to her bedroom, where she currently lay under the covers with a cold cloth under her fringe. Orderly, strategic Lightning’s room was actually a smorgasbord of used tissues. By the looks of it, she had just missed her already overflowing trashcan quite a few times.
Snow was somewhat amused, now that he was allowed to be. “She almost seems human, getting sick like that.”
Serah and Hope both elbow jabbed him from either side.
“I was just kidding . . .”
“Well,” Serah stood up from the chairs they assembled at the bedside, “We brought some take-out soup for her. I can’t imagine she’s eaten a whole lot being bedridden.” She tugged at Snow’s arm to make the man move. “We can go get it.”
Hope nodded. “Okay, I’ll wait here.”
“Of course you will~”
Serah smacked the back of her husband's head - though she had to jump to do so. (Clearly, someone wore the pants in the relationship regardless.) The two of them left the room, easy bickering fading away slowly. Hope turned to Lightning. There wasn’t a sound in the room, save for Lightning’s even, albeit congested breathing pattern. With no one else around, Hope left his chair and sat on the edge of the bed.
She mumbled something incoherent in her sleep. Hope chuckled lightly. His eyes darted from either side of the room before resting back on Lightning. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her, he convinced himself.
Hope leaned over gently, brushing her bangs away and lightly kissed her burning forehead. He lingered for a moment, but his back turned ramrod straight at the sound of a crash below.
“Snow!” He could hear Serah’s muffled scolding.
Out of concern - and, let’s admit it, smirking curiosity - Hope stood up to go see what the matter was. That is, until a warm hand took him by the wrist. He turned around. From the edge of the blanket, out peaked Lightning’s hand, currently grasping his wrist. His breath stopped for a minute. Was she awake?
Her eyes were closed, but that didn’t mean anything. She mumbled something again. Something in him lifted up. Extremely so. He was ecstatic, but as quiet as possible about it. (Didn’t want to disturb her, after all.) He sat back down, shifting arm to hold her hand in his own properly.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
- - - - -
Owari.
AN:
5’7” - Endings. The bane of my existence. I wrestled with about seven different endings, and couldn’t make a complete solution to any of them. So, sorry for making parts in a part. (I turned it into a flow chart oh god what have I done.)
Thank you to everyone who’s read it all, and stuck through all 23 pages of my headcanon! (Yeah, 23 pages. I can’t believe I put you all through this, I am so sorry. ) I’m sure I’ll have more LightHope fics to do (With more compromising and/or crack situations), so please keep supporting me! \o/
If 5'7" had fit in part 3 like I had planned, then I would've made some kind of epilogue. I still might, if everyone's willing to put up with me a bit longer. But I'll leave it to you all! Epilogue? No epilogue? :] Give me your opinion~!
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