NA: My first Final Fantasy XIII fic. I want to write more. Hope you like it :) I may do a sequel.

Mixed Feelings

Sometimes it is hard to know what you feel. — LightningHope

—

Lightning means much to him, of course she does, but that doesn't solve anything. Of course she means much, she helped him, helped him to climb out from his sphere and gain some insight in that he can't stay angry all the time if he wants to get somewhere. It doesn't help. It will bring doom here closer, it will spin faster and he does nothing.

Hope is tired of doing nothing. He wants to do more. But right now he has a bigger dilemma—a dilemma that doesn't leave him alone despite the mile of land spreading out in front of him like a red carpet—and it has somehow become a regular guest in his head and he doesn't like it one bit. This is ridiculous, he has bigger issues at hand—avoiding getting killed by a King Behemoths is a good start for example—he doesn't have time for this.

That doesn't mean he stops thinking about it.

Hope is a great thinker, sometimes too great, so great he gets stuck in his own fantasy, so hard he forgets how to get out and he soon stops trying. It is an issue he has, that he gives up. Or gave up, he is better now. Light told him that giving up is a sign of weakness, not to attempt and fail trying. She is right and even Fang looks at him with more than slight annoyance now. Or maybe that's because he was able to tame Alexander, but that's beside the point—he is someone now and even though it sounds stupid and pathetic he knows it is because of her.

Lightning Farron. The woman without a name. Or a name she doesn't want anymore.

However—and here it gets complicated—Hope is still fourteen. He is still a boy, soon to be adult. He is not immune to what you call hormones, and he will never state that he is. But they are not welcome now, not here and definitely not in Light's presence. She will not accept them and that is for the best. They are not very similar, even if it may look like they are. The biggest difference is their view of things, view of the world—she looks at it with other eyes than he does and that's because she is older than him.

This will never work.

Hope is not even sure what he feels. It would have been easier if he did.

Still, when he looks at her, which he does—how can he not?—he can't avoid the fact that she is very pretty. Very beautiful, not in a Vanille or Fang-way, but another, a kind of appearance that makes her full of life, with eyes that can pierce through and melt iron, but still very gentle when she smiles. Her smile is something else and when she does Hope falls into pieces and is unable to rebuild himself.

Lightning, do you understand what you do to me?

"Hope, you sure have changed," Lightning herself says and awakes him from his dreamworld and forces him back to reality, with newly open eyes and a huge drawback in conversation.

"Where are the others?" he asks, trying to gain some seconds to regain his balance so he can handle this without too much flaws.

"Out training," she says and smiles a little, spinning her massive sword in a circle. "Why do you ask? Afraid I might commit murder on you if I have no witnesses?"

Light has a strangely striking sarcasm that never fails to amuse him—it is that kind you either understand or don't, or rather accept or don't. Hope does both.

"What if a King Behemoths stands on my side?" he asks back and she answers with a gentle ruffle in his silvery hair, which—pathetically enough—makes his blood rush to his cheeks but as the sun lays low on Grand Pulse at this time, he can hope that she doesn't see it.

Or choose to not mention it.

"Those are beasts, Hope, they won't listen to you, fal'Cie or not," she says. "But you know, there's something I want to tell you. It hasn't been the time before, but I realize now that time is not something we have in plenty so I tell you now. You have become stronger, but not only that—your view of things has changed—of Snow, of l'Cie, of everything—and I am proud of you."

Hope doesn't know what to say. Hearing such things from Light—it is almost like that another world is opening for you. She shouldn't say things like that. Maybe to her sister Serah but not to him.

"Thanks, Light," he manages to say after an eternity. "Vanille even says that Sazh has outrun me when it comes to negativity."

"Vanille has a point. The dilemma is—do you understand it, Hope? I can say it but it doesn't mean anything. It is my words, not yours. Do you believe it?"

"Yes, I do," Hope says, with a little more enthusiasm than before, and moves his pale hands as he gesticulates his point. "Perhaps not at first. But then—I hadn't a clear goal. I have now. At least I think I do."

"We need goals, we need things to strive for," Light muses and bows down on the ground, letting her fingers play through the grass, still wet from the morning dew. "I understand what you did. I understand what you do. I still didn't want to involve you in this at first—that's the reason I acted so harshly on you in the beginning—but I understand now that you and I have no choice—you're stuck here whatever you want it or not."

"I like you guys, it is easier to see now. Of course it is hard to like people when you're so filled with rage about that l'Cie stuff, since the war took my mum away from me, but I understand now that some things happen and rage doesn't take them away. I can make my mum proud in other ways, but lingering in the past and blaming someone else is not an option. It took a while but I understand it now."

"Hope, you are a philosopher, do you know that? You know how to express yourself with words."

Hope smiles and sits down on her right side, with one knee folded under his chin and the other extended in the warm grass. "Thanks."

Light places her weapon in front of her and the sunlight hits the metal, making it light with bright colors. She picks up a straw of grass and curls it around her fingers. "Hope, is something bothering you? If you want you can tell me about it, I will listen."

Hope swallows as he understands one thing—you cannot fool Light that easy. The problem is that this is danger zone and she has—without knowing it—made it come back to life again.

He tries again and reasons with himself—what exactly does he feel for Light? Companionship? Of course, but there is more, there is always more. How can he resists her, while looking like she does, being who she is? It is impossible. It is a dilemma but Light is not the right person to share it with. Maybe no one is, because telling someone about it doesn't change things. And telling Light about it is like begging for having that sharp weapon down your throat. Somehow he has avoided her rage—at least to its fully capacity—but that doesn't mean he can play like he wants without getting punished.

It is so hard. Especially when she is so close. Why did he sit beside her? What was he thinking?

But maybe, he still has to try. Maybe she will understand. She is the only one that can help him.

"I-I, um, no, it is nothing," Hope stutters and Light only narrows her eyes, while a gust of wind catches her red hair and makes it fly.

Light is so pretty. He wants her—no, he just finds her beautiful—eh, it is—no, but—

He does not get anywhere!

She smiles slightly—hasn't she smiled a lot today?—and he starts to burn to a crisp. He is too young, too young, too young. It isn't more complicated than that. "Nothing huh. I don't believe you. I know when you lie."

"I-I—fine, you are very beautiful and I don't know what I feel about you," he says, almost with a hysterical tone in his voice, and he should be, because now the damage is done and he can't take it back.

Light simply looks at him, maybe a little shocked, maybe a little afraid, it is hard to tell. Probably both. "Hope?"

"It is true, Light, you are. I—I know I'm not much of a charmer but—I think that alright."

"Hope," she says, more firmly this time and places a gloved hand in his nest of hair. "There's nothing wrong with feelings—we all have them. But you can't feel that way about me. I'm too old for you. I'm not right for you."

"But you don't know that—"

"Hope, I am not right for you," Light repeats, harsher now, she definitely doesn't like when someone tries to prove her wrong.

"What do you feel for me, then?" he asks and it is the most stupid question either—what has God done with him?

Light doesn't answer and it is for the right but it still feels like something is broken inside of him. What has he done? Why does he feel this way? To her? She only wants to help him, that's not the same. It will never be the same.

"Sorry, Light, I'm just stupid right now, I should leave," Hope says but doesn't get far as Light pulls him back by the sleeves of his jacket until eyes meet eyes, blue against blue-green ones.

"I'm sorry. Listen to me," she says and she is so close he can feel her breath against his, "I have learned some things about love under this journey. We don't choose it. If we could, then how the hell could Serah end up with that stubborn idiot Snow? But that doesn't change it—it is wrong. I'm an adult and you're not."

She is not angry. He is so relieved that nothing can bite on him now—almost. She understands more than anyone else does, at least when it comes to him. It is something he should treasure, not question.

"Yeah, I know," Hope says but still can't prevent himself of pouring fuel in the bonfire, "but when I get older? How will it be then?"

Light lets her fingers slide down his cheek in a gesture that makes his core freeze and mind go insane. "Who knows?"

She leaves it at that. Who knows? Because really, who does?

He knows this though, he thinks as she rises up from the ground and walks away from him—that nothing will change his emotions to her—romantically or not.

He can just wait and see if hers are the same as his.

Perhaps they are.

Hope smiles.

—

fin