Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy XIII, and any credit for the two wonderful characters depicted herein go solely to Square Enix and it's affiliates. Lyrics above the title are from the song King of Fools by The Poets of the Fall.

Author's Note: This is told in Second Person—meaning Fang refers to herself as 'I', and Lightning as 'you'—I have noticed this style become more popular lately, and have been trying my hand at it myself. So, how is it? I'd love to hear from you. On another note, I guess this would be known as an AU, on account of Final Fantasy XIII-2 being in the works. Again, second fic in a couple of days—I'm on a roll!

Summary: We're like fire and ice, you and I, wouldn't you say? You are what puts the fire in my rage. I am what puts the ice in your gaze. But love is love, and I would sooner kill myself than share it with anyone but you. Flight; Fang/Lightning.

/And if we don't worry about a thing, will we be sorry when the rain is falling again?/

Perspective

We're like fire and ice, you and I, wouldn't you say, Light? You, being the chill that racks my bones so hard some days it makes my teeth chatter, but at the same times thrill me so; I, being the heat that melts the frigid walls around your heart, yet sets that destructive temper of yours aflame.

People have often speculated about you and I. Let's face it, we're not exactly the most compatible seeming couple out there, at least, not to those who don't know you, who don't know me. But you and I, we know each other; I may not know all about your past, and I may not have shared everything from mine, but that does not mean we don't know each other like the backs of our hands—I'll learn about you, and you I, but that will come in time, in the future that I know inside me that we'll share. Others may not see it, but inwardly, we're perfect for each other.

Circumstance may have bonded us together once, given me the chance to know you, and I thank Lady Luck for that. The things that brought us together, all six of us, may not have been the best, possibly the worst, but they've given me the chance to know you. I can't be angry or hateful about that. Being a l'Cie was simultaneously the best and worst thing that ever happened to me. I can't read minds, but for how long I've known you—two years next month—I believe you would say the same.

We have not known each other for long, not nearly as long as others, but I know already who it is I want to spend my life with. It's you, Lightning, oh God, it's you. As I've said, we may only be at the end of the first year of our relationship, but I know. I've seen your heart, seen what's behind those walls, the softness that permeates your soul so; it's in your eyes when you smile, something so rarely given, precious; it is in the way you guide those around you, shepherd them when they're as lost and confused as we all once were; it is in your words, when you whisper to me at night, thinking me asleep, deaf to your confessions.

I have fallen for Lightning, and I have found that it cannot destroy everything. It cannot break the foundations of our love, as deep and abyssal as it may, or perhaps already has, become. Lightning cannot wipe away or erase the feelings I hold for you. Lightning cannot hurt me, for I can see its true purpose, the beauty in every rare flash.

You, Lightning Farron—whom I hope will someday let me call you Claire, the person I know is still inside. I think you beautiful, and I know somewhere inside that you know it too. From your head to your feet, inside and out, you are more beautiful than you believe. Perhaps one day I'll be able to put this in the proper words for you. Perhaps one day, you won't refute my compliments. Perhaps one day, you'll do me the honor of becoming mine, body, soul and name.

I remember when we first announced our relationship, for you could not bear to keep it from your sister any longer, even if the secrecy of yours was self-imposed, unneeded. You were so endearingly terrified. I've seen you cry but once before, in the dead of night, the night I returned to you from my place in the sky, knowing crystal sleep was not enough for me. Watching as you came out to your sister, holding your hand through it all, those traitorous tears slipping from your eyes, I have never been more proud of you as I was in that moment. You conquered your fears that day. You were so utterly afraid that she would disown you, that she wouldn't look at you the same, but you told her. You told her because you loved me too much to hide it. And when she pushed you to me, smiled, and said to you, "Go get her, Light." Well…I've never seen a smile as I did that day.

Since that day, I've never been able to get you to smile as completely and whole as you did back then. I don't mind. I know your whole life until that point had been for Serah, that her acceptance meant so much to you. Still, since then, I've seen the happiness and the joy inside you, seen the hidden beauty begin to emerge, like a flower blooming in the sun. I'm proud to know that I had some part in that, and that's enough for me.

Despite it all, our relationship has not all been sunshine and rainbows. We've fought for what we have, time and again. Society was not as accepting of us as your sister, and it took you a long time to deal with the hate, with the insults and glares thrown at you—it took a long time for you to even let me touch you in public. For the first few months, we did nothing but fight. You spent many nights with your sister, and I with Vanille; we tore your house, ours now, apart room by room. I've always been fighter, and those bruises and cuts you came to bear one night, a fight gone too far, are one of my deepest shames. I came so close to losing everything that night, and you wouldn't talk to me for weeks after, but we pulled through, became stronger.

I know I don't want to lose you, not again, not ever. Once was bad enough, twice almost broke me. Never again.

It is with this in mind that I slip the little velvet box, the one containing my most treasure family heirloom, resized for your slim, enticing fingers, under your pillow. You will be home soon; today was your day off from work, it is almost evening, and you should be home any moment—babysitting for Serah, playing "Auntie Claire," always did put you in an oddly good mood.

I hope you accept.

You, Lightning, are what puts the fire in my rage. I am what puts the ice in your gaze. But love is love, and I would sooner kill myself than share it with anyone but you. So please, Lightning, I plead to you—accept my proposal. I can't live without you, I don't want to. Not again.

People may not see what I feel for you, but it's a matter of perspective.

I love you, and that's enough.