Christmas 2015 note - I wrote and finished this story five years ago. There was a lot going on in my life at the time. I purposely chose to write in this style as an experiment. This style was meant to hide a secret from someone I used to know back then. While I technically haven't finished this with a proper ending, the last chapter is good enough.

Disclaimer - I still don't own Final Fantasy XIII or anything in it.

Effervescence generally means 'sparkly' or 'fizzy'; 'liveliness' or 'clarity'. Soda pop is effervescent.

i. new things

An imbalance, possibly apocalyptic—there was something Fang wasn't catching onto, and she was unsure if her purpose was to catch it now or to let it be. Either way she wasn't able to look past the horizon of blinding light to even see what was coming, so she was content to simply live her life until it was ready to show itself. From that decision alone, she began to see something interesting, but…

Abruptly woken was not quite sufficient to describe Fang's current irritation, the sleep still in her eyes barely shielding her from the sun's rays of the window next to her. The rays Vanille's body was making on her bed and off of them as she jumped about, the rays her yelling voice was making as they nearly scalded Fang's ears at so early in the morning—it was enough to make Fang grab her housemate by the shoulders, eyes still closed, digging into the girl's shoulders as a warning signal to stop. Vanille did so, unable to contain some sort of laughter Fang found morbidly absurd at the moment from the pain she was no doubt in.

"Wake up, Fang!" sang Vanille over the smooth sounds of the sea just outside. Fang did no such thing and let her hands move to clamp around Vanille's mouth, unfortunately still managing to discern her next words, "You've got some really important mail! Come on sleepyhead, you have to read it!"

"The mail doesn't run on Sundays…" grumbled Fang, rolling over and yanking her black duvet over her head. Vanille pulled at the smooth fabric petulantly, rustling Fang back and forth as she did. "I don't care who you are—no one wakes me up from the kind of good dream I was havin'…"

"But you're already awake!" Being so sentient and cheery at dawn was one of Vanille's strong points, but not one that Fang appreciated at the moment. The duvet was finally removed from Fang's head effortlessly and Vanille waved a piece of paper above her closed eyes; the paper smelled vaguely of roses as it was waved about, "You have a letter I really think you should read right this instant!"

"What the hell for…?" Fang snatched the already-open-and-read letter from Vanille's hand, sitting up in her black silk nightgown to look at it properly—the handwriting was very neat and pretty, but the gender who wrote it was still unidentifiable to her. She glanced it over, picking up a few words at intervals to prepare to read it, and it made her eyes widen in a fluttering surprise, "Who sent this…?"

"There wasn't a return address," Vanille frowned sadly, "but you're right—the mail doesn't run on Sundays, so whoever wrote it must live in the area! They left this in our mailbox too!"

Vanille smilingly handed Fang a rose as blue as her sari. The long, bright green stem was devoid of thorns as it sat strong nestled between Fang's slightly trembling digits—this was a wonderful surprise at so early in the morning, but her emotions were working faster than her mind and body could process everything.

"I'll go make breakfast while you read it." Vanille would normally stay around for such an occurrence, wishing to see Fang's every reaction, but Fang was quite happy for the privacy. The courtesy was very welcomed. "Wander to the kitchen whenever you're done so we can talk about it. See you then!"

Fang nodded vaguely as Vanille rolled off her bed and skipped along to the kitchen. Her eyes no longer held any vestiges of sleep, nor did her body; the smell of the rose she placed just under her nose was an unbelievably smooth scent of perfumed velvet that delightfully eradicated her drowsiness. The longer she let the fragrance fill her senses, she slowly began to feel the average hue of red the petals usually were escape to her face. The color wasn't easily visible, but the hints of the shadow of a shade the rose ought to have been still glowed underneath her skin, as warm as the swimming sun reflecting in the water some distance away from her window.

Her still trembling hands, a fine parallel of the motions her heart was making, held the letter after she set the rose down on her lap. Fear was not what was preserving her quivering; the words, especially the one who wrote them, flattered her beyond belief—literally.

Fang,

You already know you're impossibly beautiful and worthy of everything anyone has to bestow upon you, but I know no one's ever told you or shown you just how much. I can certainly begin to describe it for you, but I want you to think about it first—to really contemplate it in anticipation of the next time I do tell you.

I have so many other things I wish I could tell you. How I feel about you, how I think of you; the way you always make me feel whenever you're nearby. I care about you so much to the point where I'll get better at writing love letters, for you; to flatter you. I'd always been somewhat against trying new things for a while, up until now. Until I realized so painfully how much I'm missing in my life by not waking up next to you every morning, holding you, keeping you protected…

I know you don't need protecting—you're no damsel in distress. But I know you do get flattered. In fact I know I'm flattering you now. Obsequious, it would certainly be for you, to at least know that there's someone out there that cares for you the way I do, who would give anything for the courage to tell you all of this in person. My courage is in my actions, and I want to show you my strength, but not just my physical one or that of my character.

Ever since I accepted my feelings, I've grown stronger to be able to go past my limits. I've improved in preparation for this day; advanced in every way possible, in ways I'd never imagined before you. You're strong and you know what you want, and I want to be a source of strength for you. I want to give you exactly what it is you want. And I'll do it, starting today, even if you won't be able to tell. I want you but I won't take you unless you give me enough permission.

And you always make me want to smile, even though I never do.

Lightning.

The storm of footsteps coming down the hall were no doubt startling Vanille, but Fang was far too emotional to give any regard for that. When she arrived in the kitchen and found Vanille standing before her with two plates in hand, ready to fill them with food, part of her wanted to know why her adoptive sister failed to tell her the most important part of the letter's contents.

"Fang…?" Vanille started carefully, smartly setting the plates down on the counter. "Are you all right? You look so…silently expressive, or something…"

"Vanille…" Fang took a profound breath, looking down briefly at the letter she had in one hand and the rose in the other. "You said there was no return address…"

"That's right…" Vanille nodded; Fang handed her the letter for her to glance at. A budding silence between them was enough to tell Fang that Vanille really didn't see the name in question that was causing her so much confusion. "Whoever wrote this…I think they're really sweet. I like the promise they make of sending you more letters."

"What's the last word you see on the page there?" Fang asked, running a finger along the stem of her rose.

"Umm… 'permission'." Vanille handed the letter back to her, blinking blankly. "Why, is there something I'm not catching?"

"Hmm…" If Lightning wrote this, then she surely used some type of magic on it to keep her identity hidden from prying eyes. And if this was merely a farce, she didn't want Vanille to even have a reason to suspect otherwise—Fang knew what Vanille could do with that kind of information. The last thing Fang needed was Vanille suspecting she had gone senile had she chosen to argue either point. "No, I'm just thinkin' about who could've written it… C'mon, let's talk about it over the food. I'm starving."

Deeply distracted described Fang's demeanor as she and Vanille were out shopping later in the day at the mall. They were supposed to be searching for a gift to purchase for Snow and Serah's housewarming party—the two had purchased a new four bedroom house in preparation for their wedding in a little less than two months' time. It was to be held on Lightning's birthday of all days; Lightning who had just recently achieved the rank of Lieutenant. The party was also for her in a sense. She would be there.

Fang was barely following Vanille around the store they were in to find some furnishing item to purchase for the soon-to-be-wed couple. She was able enough to make formless comments on whatever was picked out, but that was the extent of it all. Her adoptive sister knew quite well that the letter was on her mind, yet she knew nothing of the last few lines on the paper still held in Fang's hands that was troubling her so. Fang would normally be blasé about someone expressing themselves to her; she would acknowledge it, only say it was sweet and kind of them…but not when it was possibly Lightning, of all people. Lightning Farron who seemed the type to hold in any expression she may have; expressing it didn't seem like her at all…then again, Fang didn't know her very well to begin with.

Being worthy of Lightning's expressions was expressly expressive in an of itself. Fang felt that same flattered flush to her face in wondering of Lightning's reasons behind all this, if it had even been Farron that had written those words for her. She didn't know which would surprise her more—if Lightning had actually sent the letter or if it was a prank someone was pulling, in which case she would wonder why the prank was being pulled. It was all terribly baffling but Fang rather liked the challenge in lining up the facts and figuring out the most probable outcome. Seeing Lightning's behavior tonight would certainly help.

And then Fang would wonder about that aspect of the day. If Lightning had been holding in her feelings all this time, there would be nothing to observe tonight—she would likely be the same as always. Fang decided that she would simply have to pay a little more attention to Farron tonight if that was the case.

It was to be expected that Snow and Serah would have such a large home; Fang remembered very clearly how the man would always go on about wanting a big, happy family. They had a bright, spacious home, with furniture and hallways that reminded her of Hope's apartment. As she sat among everyone in the sitting room, she could see a very large backyard near the kitchen. Snow had explained that one of the four bedrooms was obviously for him and Serah, one for their first child, a guest room, and a room for Lightning for whenever she decided to spend the night or visit.

The Lieutenant in question was currently standing, peering about the fireplace alone, observing the knick-knacks and possibly looking for fingerprints or any other impurities on the objects. Her shoulder-plate now shone with vibrant blue lines as opposed to the yellow of before. Vanille was at the center of the rest of the group as they all sat—Serah, Snow, Sazh, Dajh, Hope, Bartholomew, and the NORA gang—telling them of Fang's new secret admirer. Fang was merely sitting between Hope and Dajh, a faint smile on her face; Vanille and the others kept referring to this person as though they were male. She was also smiling slightly at the baby chocobo Dajh held in his hands—both of them were apparently very enraptured by her love life for some reason or another as they sat and listened to her sister.

"I'm not surprised," Snow laughed, "a woman like you, Fang—you're obviously gonna have guys all over you no matter where you go!"

"Obviously," Serah rolled her eyes, smiling at Fang.

"So is it someone we know?" Hope asked her, a smile on his face. Fang felt the need to pat him atop his head for his perception but thought against it. "He slipped the letter and rose in your mailbox, so he knows where you live."

"Unless he's stalking you…" Lebreau had no idea how wrong she could possibly be. Lightning would never resort to stalking. She already knew where Fang lived, anyway.

"Hey, can we go ahead and eat dinner yet?" Sazh asked with a frown, rubbing his stomach, "I've been preparing for this meal all day you know."

"Wait a minute!" Vanille stopped everything and turned to Lightning, who had a hand against the cold brick of the chimney, leaning on it while civilly examining a picture of Snow and Serah. "Lightning!" The Lieutenant stood properly and leisurely turned to face her, looking flaccid. "Why haven't you shown interest in all this? You'd certainly be able to figure out who he is!"

"I would?" Light raised an unconvinced eyebrow. Fang wondered if she could tell how often she'd been studying her that night so far. "Last time I checked I'm not a psychic."

"Yes but you've always been the brains of our operations," Vanille reasoned, appearing frank. Lightning pursed her lips ever-so-slightly. "Won't you help us? This is important!"

Light continued to stare down at her in silent skepticism. When the girl provided no further defense of her case, Lightning gracefully took her leave to the kitchen, mumbling something about the oven. Everyone followed after her ceremoniously to the dining room, thinking nothing of her behavior, talking animatedly about the prospect of eating. Serah went off to bring the food out while everyone slowly began to sit down. Vanille looked rather put out, however.

"Hey, what's the matter?" Fang nudged her with a smile; she knew good and well what the problem was. Vanille pouted silently and shook her head. "Now, now—you know how she's like. No need to get all upset. I'm sure she meant no harm; she just doesn't care about all this."

"But how could she not?" Vanille appeared convinced of Lightning meaning no harm, but she still wanted to continue speaking on the matter. "It's easily the most that's going on these days. All we ever sit around and talk about is the wedding. And even then she never says anything."

"Well, she barely approves of it…" muttered Fang, casting a sidelong glance at Snow laughing uproariously while keeping Yuj in a headlock for some reason or another. She shook her head and watched Light emerge from the kitchen. "Don't worry about her, Vanille. Just let her be."

Fang kept her amused eyes on Lightning, watching her sit at one of the ends of the table while Hope's father took the other. Serah sat on Lightning's right, with Snow next to her followed by the rest of his team. She allowed Dajh to take the open seat on Light's left, with Sazh next to him. Vanille took the seat next to Hope, and Fang sat next to her. She smiled at the baby chocobo flying into Sazh's afro before joining everyone else in filling their plates. Vanille was soon engaged in conversation with Hope, smiling.

While she ate her seafood, Fang felt unusually happy. The wonderfully cooked food certainly helped with her mood, but it was by no means the only constituent of her situation. She watched Lightning openly as she ate her breaded shrimp; watched her eat each piece in three evenly-sized bites, never sucking on the tail, unlike some people at the table. The way she squeezed her lemons over her food was controlled, with the most insubstantial hints of circumspection, as though she had had a mishap with squeezing lemon juice in her eyes before or some such.

Lightning would curiously only ever look up from her plate to watch Serah and Snow interact with each other. She appeared passive, not protective or possessive at all, as her eyes carefully glanced between them. Neither ever appeared to notice when they were being watched, and thus never commented on it. Fang tilted her head at Light's attentiveness to the couple; how she always managed to slither her gaze to them at the exact second they became too distracted to notice anything around them.

When Hope began speaking with his father for a brief moment, Vanille turned to whisper in Fang's ear, "So are you going to find out who the guy is?" Fang regarded her, keeping the briefest of her periphery open to watch for Light possibly sneaking a glance at her. "I think you should! I'm sure he'll give more clues over time! Ohh I wonder who it could be…"

Just as Fang was about to make some excuse about wanting to play everything by ear, she saw a speck of yellow in the corners of her eyes and followed it. Her mouth hung open slightly as she watched the baby chocobo fly from Sazh's hair and atop Lightning's head. It promptly curled up and went back to sleep, garnering the stunned attention of everyone but Light—she merely continued to eat without any regard for the chocobo on her head. If that wasn't a way of perhaps answering Vanille's question, she didn't know what was.

Bartholomew was the one to break the silence, "So Snow, Serah—the food is excellent. Might I ask who cooked?"

"Oh!" Serah brightened considerably, "It was actually my sister who cooked. She says she's been practicing, and I definitely believe her now!"

Well no one seemed to believe her, Fang included. Culinary skills also seemed to be something that would elude Lightning, but, again, Fang didn't know her very well, and it was beginning to bother her.

"Did you really, Light?" asked Hope, also looking rather incredulous. Lightning merely nodded lightly without glancing at him, still eating; the chocobo perched atop her head still remained dormant.

Fang cocked an eyebrow at her and spoke up. "If you don't mind my askin', what exactly made you wanna learn? This is pretty good stuff, Lieutenant."

Lightning gently held her napkin in her hands, looking directly at Fang while she unhurriedly brought the light cloth over her mouth. Her clear-cut eyes belied whatever expression her mouth may have had—they seemed to be scowling at her. Fang had to keep from smirking at Light's composed answer from behind her napkin:

"I like trying new things."

Some minutes after dinner ended, Fang was walking up the stairs to go visit someone. Vanille had gone to help Serah clean and put everything away. Hope, Bartholomew, Sazh and Dajh had left almost right after dinner. Snow was busy talking with Gadot and the others. Fang was feeling rather forlorn and had decided against partaking in cleaning or guy chat, Lebreau's gender aside, and decided to go speak with Lightning who was undoubtedly in her room alone. When the smell of polish reached her nose as she neared one of the rooms, she followed it without any deliberation.

As she stood in the doorway of her destination, arms crossed, she watched Light sit upon her bed in her undecorated room, polishing her Lionheart on her lap. Lightning was sitting on the side of her bed closest to the door, facing the door, and certainly having noticed Fang standing there and observing her.

"Can I help you?" asked Light amicably, eyes still concentrating on her task.

"You certainly can by allowing me to come into your room."

"Nothing's stopping you," Lightning shrugged, glancing at her in slight question. Fang also shrugged, a soft smile on her lips while she sat down next to Light. Not directly, but not too much distance was between them. A slow silence passed between them; Fang could sensibly see the stillness swimming past her as leisurely as Farron's hand worked along her prized gunblade. Lightning just decided to get to the point: "I saw you staring at me all night."

"I saw you tryin' not to stare back at me all night," Fang countered, watching her with curious eyes. She didn't see the point in beating around the bush about it, and she knew Lightning didn't either if she brought this fact up so soon. "Might I ask why you never asked me what my problem was?"

"I don't know." Lightning stood to place her materials and gunblade upon her white dresser, stopping to stare at Fang's reflection in her mirror. Her regard was indiscernible. "I just figured you'd tell me on your own eventually. Didn't want to make it seem like I cared."

Fang was surprised by her second response. "Now why would you try and do a thing like that?"

"I didn't want to bother you by caring." Lightning sounded somewhat humble. Fang licked the outer rim of her teeth with her mouth closed, narrowing her eyes slightly in interest. "People tend to say more than they mean to with their actions as opposed to words. I didn't want to possibly bother you over nothing."

"Well I guess that means we just don't know each other very well," Fang finally concluded to Light. A gradual nod was her answer. "You said you like tryin' new things, so how 'bout we fix that?"

"How?" Lightning turned around with a hand on her hip, seeming involved enough.

"I dunno…" Fang fibbed; she wanted to see what Farron would suggest. "What do you think we should do about this?"

"Hang out more?" Lightning shrugged once again. Fang gave her a look that told her to continue. "I have weekends off…we can go out Saturday around evening time to the mall. I'm sure you like shopping."

Fang was very much tempted to make a remark about Lightning asking her out, but thought against it, "Yeah, I'd like that actually. Haven't gone shopping for myself in ages! Besides, maybe you can help me find the guy who wrote me that love letter."

"Sounds good." Lightning never missed a beat, and Fang was impressed. "I'll pick you up at five sharp."

"Sounds good," Fang repeated, leaning back with her arms stretched out behind her, swinging her legs absently.