I Could Ask Him: Part 3

By Cobalt Doll

His name is Heero. We got him to say that much. Or, rather, Quatre did. Who in their right mind, guy or girl, could resist those big blue eyes and such a cute little pout. Not that I'm trying to say this guy is in his right mind or anything. But even cutie-pie over there didn't get him to say anything more. And we did try.

"So what's your name?" asked Quatre with a sweet smile.

"Heero," came the monotone reply.

"Well where are you from, Heero?" I guess I sorta grinned, because I expected him to be as rude to Quatre as he was to me. But no.

"It doesn't matter where I come from," he replied softly. "I'm not there anymore." Me and Quat exchanged a look. I didn't have to be some kind of empath to hear the hurt behind those words. And I'll be the last one to try and explain why it made me feel jealous that Quatre was the one that got him to expose that hurt and not me.

"That bad, ne?" I asked. WHAM! Evil death glare in my face! I really don't like this guy!

"So," said Heero, successfully changing the subject, "What is it that you're supposed to help me with?" Being the mature one I am, I crossed my arms and leaned back in my chair. Damned if I'm going to help him! But his eyes fell on my anyway. And for once they weren't threatening several painful deaths. They were searching. Or maybe it was my imagination. The look only lasted for a second.

"We're doing independent study," said Quat. "What medium do you like to work with?"

"Medium?" he asked. What a moron. If he doesn't even get a question like that, how the hell did he skip the regular Art I through IV classes and get to independent study?

"Well, painting, sketching, sculpture. You know. Like would you rather use clay or oil paints?" Heero looked confused. I guess he doesn't know how he got into independent art study either. Moron.

"Well, Duo's doing a relief sculpture on a plaster square. Do you want to try something like that?" One of these days I'm going to kill Quatre. He's really sensitive towards people's emotions, so he had to notice that this guy despised me. So, using that same brilliant logic that makes him flirt with guys, what does he do? Pair me up with him.

"Hn," came the reply. Quat took it for a yes. He's definitely one of the top on my '100 People to Assassinate List.' Right up there next to George Bush and the Spice Girls. So that was how I got stuck helping the God of the Anti-social do his art project. And that's not the worst of it. The worst of it has big violet eyes, not nearly as pretty as my own, and long brown hair. The worst of it happens to be named Relena Peacecraft.


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Copyright 2005