Hello new readers! First off, thank you for clicking and reading this story. It is very much appreciated. Here are some things to know:

This is set post-game. Since this does not at all follow the FF13-2 timeline/universe, it should be considered AU.

Despite this, I will use a character or two from that game here, partially to avoid creating OCs, and because their characteristics will be valuable here. But again, while similar in personality and such, they do NOT have their original, canon background.

For now this is set to T, although it may change in the future.

Anything else you need to know, feel free to ask. I'll let you know if it comes up in the story, and if not, answer it full-on.

Anyway, enough of my blabbering. Please continue, and I hope all of you enjoy it! Reviews, favorites, and alerts are all appreciated. Thank you and onward!

Opening his locker had become some sort of twisted adventure for Hope. At least twice a week, but often more, he would go to enter the combination and lift the handle, only to find that the locker swung open at the barest touch. The college had since refunded him his deposit, and he was using it for free, but that didn't stop the hassle of having to change the lock every other day. And a lot of good it seemed to do him in the end, as the locker would always be broken again.

"Whoa, that's a lot, even for them."

Yet, that was only half of the problem.

Hope sighed as a waterfall of sealed envelopes fell to the floor. He rubbed his pale face before kneeling to pick them up. Noel hovered over him, sighing when Hope swatted his hands away when he reached to help.

"Don't," Hope muttered, voice softer and eyes apologetic. "It's fine." A couple of stray college students glanced at the pair and the envelopes, but walked on by without a word. The occurrence, while strange, seemed to have become a normal part of campus life. Hope would open his broken locker, and something would fall out.

As it had been for the past seven months.

Noel glared at the offending pieces of paper as Hope stuffed them into his bag. "And there's still not enough? I mean, how many of these things has this person sent? And the police still aren't doing anything?" The questions came like rockets but Hope just shrugged.

"It's not that simple, Noel. Leaving notes in my locker isn't a crime, for one thing."

"Breaking the locker to do it is," he shot back.

Hope shook his head, shoulders slumping. "For another, they don't even know who this person is. Nothing has come up. They've been pretty good at keeping themselves hidden."

"The police aren't exactly doing a lot themselves though!" Noel crossed his arms, pouting at the oblong skylight. Sunlight poured through the glass, bright white light causing dark shadows around the hall. "I mean, when was the last time they even picked up your case?"

"That's not how this works, Noel." Hope stared blankly at his broken locker, gently closing it as tightly as he could before turning around and heading for the double doors. Noel made to follow him, pausing when he spotted two missed envelopes on the ground. Waiting until Hope was at least two feet ahead of him, he knelt down and picked up the letters. Noel slipped them in his shoes and pretended to tie the laces when Hope glanced back, before jumping up and jogging to Hope.

"It's not that they don't want to help, it's that there's not much they can do. There's no real evidence she's stalking me."

"So, it's a she now." Noel raised an eyebrow but Hope just sighed. Noel's lungs deflated at his friend's growing lethargy, and he didn't miss the dark, purple rings that burned beneath Hope's eyes. They both paused when they stepped outside, letting the sun warm their faces before heading down the sidewalk. In the distance, Noel spotted the long, dark car that Hope had been using as his ride for the past three months.

"I think so. Sometimes the i's have hearts, and there's a perfume smell to some of the letters. But who knows, maybe it's some creeper guy pretending to be a girl."

Noel closed his eyes and shuddered. "Don't. That might really be it."

"Anyway," Hope said firmly, "there's no actual proof I'm being stalked. Saying that it feels like someone is watching me isn't really evidence, and the letters are just a bunch of love confessions or-or-I don't know, things they like or something." Noel narrowed his eyes when Hope didn't meet his gaze. Hope's stare stayed ahead of him, but Noel could see the slight tremble to his frame.

"But she is stalking you." Noel put as much force as he could behind the words.

"Again...no proof, no charges. That's why I'm collecting the letters and anything else she sends. Just in case." Hope slowed when they were only a few steps away from the car, his eyes darkening. His entire body slumped and when Noel stepped in front of Hope to peer into his eyes, he saw how lost Hope seemed. His eyes had a faraway look and exhaustion ran down his face. Hope ran a hand through his silver locks, messing the already ruffled looking hair.

"Th-they said..." Hope opened and closed his mouth several times, shaking his head and gasping. Hope gritted his teeth and looked up at the sky and the ground and everywhere but Noel, blinking rapidly the entire time. Eventually, Hope forced out a laugh, empty and bitter. "They said I'd probably just have to wait until she did something."

A small silence followed as the words sunk in, before an icy chill overtook Noel. "No..." Noel trailed off, eyes widening in horror. He took a step toward Hope and grabbed his arm, squeezing. "They can't wait till then!"

"Unless we can find out who she is, and prove beyond my word that she's following me, there's really nothing more they can do." Hope closed his eyes and took a deep breath, his lower lip quivering. The cold seeped into Noel's stomach and he looked around, waiting for someone to swoop down and take Hope this very second.

He tightened his hold on Hope's arm at the thought.

"B-but I'll be all right, Noel. Promise. She'll probably screw up somewhere down the road, the police will take care of it, and life can go back to kind of normal." There was no real cheer in Hope's voice. Hope smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes, and it was quick to fall back into a single straight line.

"Don't worry about it, Noel. I'll be fine. Always have." Hope stepped away from him and headed for the car, even as Noel scrambled for something to say. His head was still stuck on the words, "...wait until she did something," and all the scenarios that could mean for Hope. By the time he turned around at the slamming of the car door, Hope was waving good-bye from the glass, the car zooming down the street and quickly out of sight.

Noel stood alone, seconds ticking by as his heart roared and twisted. He could do nothing for his friend but watch, even as Hope slipped in health and humor and everything else that made Hope, Hope.

"This-this isn't right. They can't just leave him like this! A sitting duck for this-this-" Snarling, Noel threw his hands in the air, flipping off the passing clouds. Several passerby gave him odd looks, but he hardly noticed them as he fell back into the campus grass and glared down at his shoes. One of the white envelopes peeked out of his right sneaker and he growled, yanking both of them out.

"I hate you, whoever you are. I hate what you're doing to my friend." He flipped the plain white envelopes over and sighed. His neck warmed and sweat started forming on his hands. In the back of his mind, something whispered not to do it, but he pushed the words away.

"Sorry, Hope, but there's no way you'll show me if I ask." Swallowing hard, Noel opened the first envelope and pulled out a letter. Rose and lavender perfume hit his nose and he winced.

He's right, definitely a girl.

Unfolding the note, he paused at the neatly written message that covered every inch of the paper, the words smashed together:

IloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIlov eyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyou Iloveyou

IloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIlov eyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyou Iloveyou

IloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIlov eyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyou Iloveyou

IloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIlov eyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyou Iloveyou

IloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIlov eyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyou Iloveyou

IloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIlov eyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyou Iloveyou

The chill in his stomach reached up to his chest, leaving icicles in his ribcage. He scanned the page top to bottom, as if to confirm that someone has really sat somewhere and wrote the same words, over and over again.

They're insane. This can't be happening.

His heart hammered harder as he reached for the other letter, opening it and letting the contents slip to the ground. A mog keychain pulled his eyes for a second, reading the tag, "Another gift for you!"

But what caught his eyes was the sheen on the paper. He picked it up and felt the smooth corner, before turning it around.

His pounding heart lodged in his throat and Noel choked at what he saw.

It was a photo of Hope from yesterday, sitting in the college courtyard and reading a book. The shot was taken in a way that placed Hope at the center of the work, framed by bush leaves and tree branches. The woman had even waited until no random pedestrian was walking through the popular courtyard to make sure Hope was the only one in it. He hovered over the book in the picture, eyes narrowed in concentration, his pencil in mid-tap.

The chill finally reached his brain, tearing him between cold burns and numbing fear.

"No... No, no, no."

Noel flipped the photo over and caught the scrawled words near the bottom, "You're so cute when you're working on statistics!"

"But...you can't even see the cover of the text..."

Noel paused, mouth dropping at the realization. And the chill in his torso seeped through every muscle and pore he had, as if to leave the very air around him frosty. Horror and fear churned in Noel's stomach as he put the photo with the keychain and letter.

"What do I tell him?" he asked, slamming his forehead to his knees. "And-and what about those other letters? Are they all like that? Oh-oh no..."

A slight breeze jostled the letter, revealing more of the cursive, black-inked, declarations of love. The inky black words seemed to shine when the sun hit, burning brightly the sentence, "IloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIlov eyou."

I love you.

As he walked into the home he shared with his father, Hope did his best to paint a calm and neutral look on his face. His lips formed a simple, straight line, and his eyes remained blank. The techniques he picked up from Lightning paid off whenever he needed to seem as normal as possible, and he made sure to ignore the voice in his head whispering, "Don't you always complain when she pretends to be okay?"

He passed through the walkway, kicking off his shoes and stepping into the living room. Curling his toes around the soft, blue carpet, Hope took a deep breath and shifted his bag. He could almost hear the envelopes shuffling inside, and the weight they represented almost cracked his back in two.

Better get to my room before dad asks-

"Hope?" He winced at his father's voice before grinning and turning to face Bartholomew. His father walked in from the archway, and Hope caught the scent of spaghetti sauce.

"Hey, dad! Just got home. Let me drop my stuff off!"

Bartholomew adjusted his glasses, keeping his eyes on Hope. Hope's chest tightened and he looked away, playing with his bag's strap. Move, Hope. Move and you won't have to worry about it.

But his legs locked in place, waiting for his father to say something. His heart pounded and skipped, rattling his ribs. Silence stretched between them and Hope opened his mouth to ask what was wrong with Bartholomew finally spoke. "So, what happened today?"

Licking his dry lips, Hope shrugged. "Nothing much. Got some homework...a test is coming up in statistics."

Bartholomew hummed, brown eyes darkening. "Anything else? Maybe something to do with your classmates?"

"No...no, there's really nothing else going on." The bag was getting heavier, pressing into the small of his back. Hope was sure it was leaving a big bruise the longer he left it on him.

"Nothing with her?" Sweat beaded on the back of Hope's neck and he squirmed. His mask fell in front of his father like it always did, but he did his best to hold on to the shreds that remained.

"No, dad. Nothing all that bad."

"That's not what Noel told me." Hope's breath hitched. His eyes met his father's before he whipped around, rushing for the door even as Bartholomew yelled back for him. He made it down the hall and grabbed the knob before his father caught his shoulder and pulled him back. Hope's face warmed and he yanked in the grip, shaking his head.

"I'm serious, dad. Nothing happened. Noel is just being weird! He didn't tell me he got his phone back," he mumbled to himself, growling.

"No, he isn't. He didn't tell me what was inside, only that you got a bunch of those damned letters again! And that this time, it was bad."

Frustration boiled hot in Hope's gut and he snarled. "What else is new? So she's some weirdo who has a fixation on me...it's not like we can actually do anything about it right now!" Hope threw his door opened, a bang echoing loudly as it slammed into the wall. "It got worse? That's great! Maybe the police will do something now."

"Hope, no." Bartholomew shook his head, following Hope into his room and flinching when Hope chucked his bag at the wall. "We don't want this to get worse."

"Why not? At least it'll be different than feeling like-like-I don't know, like the same old routine of feeling watched and getting weird love confessions. I wonder what it is." Hope ripped his bag open with trembling fingers, feeling hot and tired and angry all at once. The black fabric tore and letters, textbooks, and pencils spilled onto the floor.

Bartholomew's eyes widened. "So many."

Hope ignored him, falling to his knees and ripping open a few of the letters. The first five had nothing but the words 'I love you' written all over, the words smashed together into one to make room for as much as possible. Hope's already pale complexion grew lighter with each letter, and the vigor he'd used to open the first few letters died down.

The sixth envelope had no letter, and as Hope slipped the photo out, he made a small, strangled sound. Bartholomew was at his side in an instant, grasping Hope's shoulder ans squeezing while looking at the photo in Hope's hand.

His heart clenched and curled itself into a tight little ball, and his grip on Hope's shoulder increased. Hope shook his head, body quaking as he looked at a picture of himself as he walked away from the campus, Noel by his side.

"It's from last week," Hope whispered, barely able to hold it in his hands. His fingers wouldn't stop shaking and eventually it slipped from his fingers, landing lightly on the floor. The air had been knocked from Hope's lungs, leaving him choked, and his eyes began to burn.

"Hope, it's-" Bartholomew stopped, unsure of what to say as he searched his son for answers that weren't there. Hope reached for another envelope, even as Bartholomew told him to stop.

"No, Hope. Leave them alone. I'll open them and put it all in our evidence box. Maybe the police can do something now, like you said."

"This one is two weeks old," Hope muttered, eyes widening as he pulled the next out. The photo showed Hope at the park, sitting underneath one of the trees and resting his eyes. Flipping to the back, Hope read the message, "You must have been tired because you're always working so hard! But you look so cute when you're asleep. I think green really suits you. It matches your eyes perfectly!"

Another photo had him in a classroom with his professor. "When I was asking for an extension on the project." Hope felt something scraping his insides out, leaving him hollow and so, so empty.

Another as he walked home college, several months old because of his new, and apparently necessary rides home. One of him and Noel at the bookstore. Him picking up milk at the supermarket. Practicing with his boomerang.

Picture after picture after picture. Hope couldn't even grasp the thirteenth envelope, his hands shook so badly. Tears rolled down his cheeks and dripped onto the floor, some sobs escaping him even as he bite down his mouth. Hope grabbed his head and rocked himself back and forth, gasping. "Please leave me alone. Why won't you leave me alone? I didn't do anything. I swear I didn't do anything."

Bartholomew gathered Hope in his arms, resting his chin on the top of his head and hugging him as tightly as he could. "We're going to fix this, Hope. I promise. I'll find out who's doing this and put a stop to it."

Hope nodded, sucking in his breath only to gasp again. "Sorry," he mumbled. "I'm sorry."

"There's nothing to be sorry about." Bartholomew grabbed Hope by the arm and eased him up. "You need to rest, Hope. Leave this to me."

"But-"

"Leave it to me." Bartholomew led Hope to his bed, setting him gently on the mattress and ruffling his hair. "You just sit back, relax, and let me finish dinner."

"Did it burn?" Hope asked, biting his lip and rubbing away the tears. He tried to keep his eyes on his father, ignoring the pull of the pictures.

"No, I made sure to turn the burner off. We won't have a repeat of last week." Bartholomew smiled when he managed to pull a chuckle out of Hope. He scooped up the letters and photos as quickly as he could and nodded again at his son. "I'll bring dinner to you."

"You don't have-"

"I"ll bring it to you." Hope gulped at Bartholomew's glare, slowly nodding before letting himself fall back into bed. Hope closed his eyes until he heard the door close with a soft snap, then rolled over and stared down at his now ruined bag. He wrapped his arms around his stomach to stop the shaking and fought the burning in his eyes, gritting his teeth.

"I hate this," he muttered, swearing when a another gasp escaped him. He shook his head, the pictures flashing over and over again in his mind. All the moment in his life; normal moments meant just for him and his friends. But he was being watched and documented and nothing was the same anymore.

I don't get it. I mean, what's so interesting about me? What did I do? I don't want this. I don't-no-I just-

A sob erupted from him and he snapped his jaw shut, groaning. "I really, really hate this," he said again, curling into a ball. "Just leave me alone."

On the other side, Bartholomew listened to his son's faint, desperate noises until his heart could take no more. He headed for his own room and pulled out a box from the closet. Evidence was written in big, black letters on the sides and top. As he opened it, more letters and small gifts sat at the bottom, and Bartholomew let the new additions drop inside. Then, with a heavy sigh, he pulled out a few of the photos and set them on his bed.

"I have quite a few calls to make," he mumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose and heading back to the kitchen to heat the now cold dinner.