The Road Less Taken -- Part II
by SylviaSpivey

When I walked into the deli Tuesday, Heero had his head in a book as usual. He slouched on the wooden stool at the end of the counter, head and shoulders bent down toward the book on his lap like he wished he could crawl right into it. I wouldn't mind doing that--crawling into Heero's lap, that is--but he's stood up and walked to the register without looking up from his book before I have a chance, not that I'd take it. Heero's hot with his bed hair and blue-blue eyes, but he's not someone I could just tumble and toss away. His outstretched hand fumbles on the counter for the bookmark and crumpled bills he'd normally find there. This time, I slip a slim book under his fingers. One elegant brow arches up in a quiet question, and he quickly takes a napkin from the counter and places it between the pages of his book.

"You finished this?" he wonders.

"In math class," I grumble. Might as well do something productive there, and since Noin forbade me to do my poetry homework during math I finished reading Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead. "You taking a break soon?"

His eyes meet mine and he gives me a silent smirk before nodding once. He looks down at my money, smoothes the crumpled bills, and scoops the change off the edge of the counter into his hand. I take a seat at the crooked table by the window, setting the creased envelope on its dull gray surface, listening to the opening and closing of the cash register and the slow hiss of steam from the espresso machine. I close my eyes. I forgot to tell him what I wanted today but he usually knows what I want, even when I can't remember.

The chair across from mine scrapes across the floor, and the smell of rich black coffee warms me. I open my eyes to see Heero smiling at me bemusedly. Coffee and an odd custard thing that I'm sure I've never ordered before. "Creme brulee," Heero says in response to my questioning look. "If you decide you don't like it before you try it, you may miss out on something"--his mouth savored the word--"delicious."

A shiver raced down my neck. Was there a draft in here? I glanced up, but didn't see a fan. "Uh. Thanks," I stammered. "I'll try anything once." A quick smile darted across Heero's face, and for some reason some half-remembered phrase about a shark's grin played through my mind. Feeling out of sorts, I tried to shake it off with a shrug and a sip of the strong coffee.

I was here to get help with the latest poetry assignment from Noin. She'd given me a D on the first assignment, a recitation, because I didn't show feeling and understanding. I wouldn't fare much better with The Road Not Taken if I couldn't tell her what Frost meant, and what the poem meant to me. It didn't mean anything to me!

Heero ran his fingers along the edge of the envelope, and traced the blue script on the back. "For someone different," he said softly. I didn't worry that he was making fun of me, strangely enough. I'm usually a little defensive about things like that. "How are you different, Duo?" His question threw me; had I been talking out loud?

"What do you mean?" I asked. If it wasn't obvious to him that I walked to the beat of my own drum...

"Humor me. Just list the ways that you are different from... say... Relena."

That pink menace! "I'm male," I said. Heero stared at me flatly, and I hurried to add to the list. "My hair hits my ass; hers hits her shoulders. I wear chains and black eyeliner; she wears pink cardigans. I get made fun of; she gets a fan club. She's a cookie-cutter cheerleader who couldn't think for herself if--" I caught myself mid-rant and twisted the end of my braid between my fingers.

"If...?" Heero prompted. I shrugged and took a sip of the coffee, which had cooled a bit and tasted a little bitter. He sighed. "So, she's very mainstream?"

I nodded.

"Follows popular opinion? Looks to others to tell her what to wear and what to think?"

I nodded again; she was like too many other people that milled about and did whatever everyone else did. Fucking sheep! So much for watching my language.

Heero leaned across the table and brushed two strong, slender fingers down over my eyelids. "Close your eyes. Don't speak. Just listen." His voice was deep and velvety smooth. I could hear him lean back in the wire-backed chair, and then his rich voice recited: "Two roads diverged - in a yellow wood, and sorry I could not travel both, and be one traveler, long I stood, and looked down one as far as I could, to where it bent in the undergrowth." He paused, and in a low voice, added, "The first road is well traveled, worn down by the many people who have walked it before."

"And the second road?" I breathed, eyes still closed. I could smell coffee on his breath, and a faint, musky scent that was wholly Heero.

He continued reciting: "Then took the other, just as fair, and having perhaps the better claim, because it was grassy and wanted wear." He paused again. "Tell me about the second road, Duo."

"It's grassy because not many people take it."

His voice sounded closer. "And which road would Relena take?"

I snorted. The easy road. "The road well traveled."

I could feel his breath warm on my face. "And which road would you take?"

The road with you on it, I thought. I could swear I felt his breath ghost across my lips, but he hadn't moved, right? I would have heard the chair, or felt the table move. I wet my lips, and heard a soft intake of breath. "The road less traveled."

The bells over the door jangled, and Heero's chair scraped back abruptly. I opened my eyes, feeling disoriented and somehow short-of-breath. I was starting to think that I understood a few things about poetry... and maybe about Heero too.

Three older men were ordering sandwiches at the counter, and Heero shot me an apologetic look as I stepped behind the counter to top off my coffee. The murmur of their voices dipped and rose as I sat at the rickety table and ate my creme brulee. It was delicious.

<< Last