By Raletha
"You what?" Duo demanded. He had that look, his mother hen one, the one that forbade me from fighting, from going to the rebel meetings with him.
I didn't think Trowa required that look from Duo. I glared back at him. "I invited him to come over again, since you weren't here yesterday."
"I won't be here today either, Hilde."
"Skip the meeting. I think it's important to help your friend."
"He's not my... Look, I don't know Trowa that well. It's not my place to interfere." Duo paced across the room and leaned against the wall. "His sister could be right for all I know."
I twisted on the sofa to face him again. "If you had amnesia, you'd want your friends to help you remember stuff—wouldn't you?"
"Maybe, I don't know. But it's not your job to get mixed up in his life. You just met the guy."
"I like him. And, geez, Duo, the way you talk, it sounds like he could use some new friends."
"Well, just... be careful. Unless, Quatre... Ah, hell, I'm not doing this." He pushed away from the wall and headed for the door. "I'll see you later, okay?"
I was late home from the shopping, and found Trowa sitting on the stoop. As I approached, he stood in a single fluid movement that reminded me he was an acrobat, not just a lonely messed up guy with no past.
So Duo hadn't changed his mind.
"I'm sorry," I said, shifting my groceries to my hip so I could fish my keys from my pocket. "Duo couldn't make it again."
"That's fine," he said, and then more quietly added, "I like talking with you."
We had strawberries again, and today Trowa was more comfortable talking about small things. I told him about where I grew up, here on L2 in the agri sector. I concentrated on the happy times. Maybe my stories could trigger sympathetic memories in him. He listened attentively, questioning occasionally, and the time passed too quickly.
Soon we were standing at the door facing each other, and Trowa was giving me some kind of significant look.
"What is it?" I asked.
"Your eyes, they remind me of... I don't know. Something. Maybe I'm close remembering something else."
"Something good?"
He cocked his head, and his hair fell away from his face so that I could see him clearly. His eyes tracked over my face, maybe questing for more insight into the memory. A tiny smile bent the corner of his mouth. "Yeah, I think so. Something good."
Standing so close to him, with his features revealed and relaxed, felt incredibly intimate. Somehow he seemed more—or perhaps closer to—himself for that moment, even though I still had little idea of what that was. And it emboldened me to reach up to him, brush his hair further aside, and return the smile.
He surprised me and didn't pull away.
"You shouldn't hide your face." I let my fingertips touch his cheekbone. His hair fell against the back of my hand.
Kiss me, it's okay. I willed, but he didn't move.
So I did. I pulled his head down to me as I leaned up and pressed my mouth to his. I meant the kiss to be chaste, but his response was more enthusiastic than I'd expected. The kiss lingered, turned into a second, a third, and soon, his lips parted against mine, and I was drawn more deeply to him.
My senses swam in his scent, his taste, his warmth, but I forced myself to pull away. I wanted to ask him what it meant. I wanted to ask him how he felt. But he was leaving in two days. It meant very little, and whatever he might feel didn't change that.
"Do want me to come again tomorrow?" he asked finally, a little breathless.
I was grateful for the way out he offered, but I answered—perhaps foolishly, "Yes. If you want."
tbc.
