Third: Hope's not a kid; Hope's not an adult. Hope doesn't know what the hell to do these days. Snow seems to know, though.

It hurt, every now and again. Hope felt like maybe the world was crashing down around his ears and he couldn't help it.

Most times, he went to Lightning. She was reliable; thoughtful; intelligent; one of his closest, most treasured friends. He trusted her with his life, his heart, and the little pieces of him that he gave to her. He loved her. Loved her so much.

Sometimes he'd talk to Fang. She was crude but didn't beat around the bush; she got her point across; she was brutally honest when he needed her to be. He trusted her like he would trust an older sister, or that crazy aunt that loves you like her own son. He treasured her advice when he got it.

Other times he'd talk to Vanille. She was enthusiastic; high off life; a shimmer of white light even in the darkest black. She knew where her heart was and her intentions were always in the right place. She loved him like a brother and he loved her like a sister.

Then he'd talk to Sahz because let's face it – he's the eldest and wisest out of all of them. He's been there, done that. He went to Sahz with problems he couldn't tell Lightning or Fang or Vanille because they were that bad, or they just wouldn't get it. He liked Sahz because he treated him like an adult when he needed it and a kid when he didn't.

And then there was Snow.

Snow was a bit of a different story compared to the rest of his friends; family, really. Snow meant so much less, yet so much more. He went to Snow when he felt like his life could've been so much more. He went to Snow when he needed someone to snap him out of whatever he'd fallen into. Hope found this odd because he hated Snow in the beginning and he still didn't trust him with his life or his heart or the little pieces of him that he'd stolen away.

Yet, Hope found he started giving more and more away every time met with Snow. Usually it was just to talk; get things off his chest that he couldn't tell anyone else. But, like all things that sit on the fence, their relationship took a sharp turn.

Hope remembered getting angry at Snow because he'd said something that upset him. It was probably something about his mother because Hope remembered damn near bursting into tears because it stung that badly. He remembered trying to leave, and then Snow's arms pulling him back saying he had to face it sooner or later. Then he turned around and told Snow to go fuck himself because he didn't want his advice or his help – but, now that he thought about it, it probably didn't make that much of an impression because he'd been crying.

Instead, Snow had put his arms around him and held him there until he stopped thrashing and then they just... stood there. Hope still didn't understand how just that could keep him so warm after so long.

Then he remembered Snow looking at him straight to center and then Hope felt really... strange. He still doesn't know what that was, but if felt good. Like someone had lit a match in the dark and given him a little bit more light. A little more security.

Then it was just an awkward brushing of lips; the feeling of toned muscle beneath his finger tips; an oppressive lurch of feelings in his stomach and his entire soul was lit aflame.

His relationship with Snow was a lot different than his relationship with Lightning or Vanille. It was more intense and less tactful. It was strange and new and raw. It was addicting; wrong; concentrated on pushed ever button that they had. It hurt and healed at the same time.

Hope felt it grow every time Snow's tongue made his mind shut down and the shade of his skin grow a little redder. He felt it when Snow's hands ran up and down his ribs, scratching and kneading and making him shudder. He felt it was he was shoved up against a wall and touched the way he needed it so, so badly.

He really didn't know what they were getting themselves into. Neither did Snow. They were just fumbling around in the dim light, trying to understand what they were looking for.