ladylarkrune: (falling leaves)
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Title: Looking Down the Paths Not Taken
Author: Leilia
Universe: Yakko's World OWBC
Spoilers: Up to my last published chapter
Prompt: Sound
Notes: Poem by Robert Frost



Oman often wondered what might have been. For a full year after he and Olive broke up he fantasized about a life with her. A life of brown haired children with her large brown eyes and his jaw. A small but cozy house filled with books with an orchard full of buzzing bees surrounding it. The sound of pages turning and lullaby singing. But most of all Liv in his arms. He never got further than that. The dream always stopped there, looping back on itself like a scratched record. He never got past the house, the kids, the orchard, the bed. He never got past the child hood fantasy.

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;


Oman often wondered what might have been. For a time he entertained seeking out Andrea Shin, Onslow's former fiancée. They both knew what it was like to be hurt by his brother and Olive. They both knew the pain of betrayal. She was intelligent and attractive if he admitted it. They would have been good together. Feeding off each other. They would have destroyed the ones that hurt them and then made love on their enemies graves. They would have fucked and fought and it would have been glorious until they died in a rain of bullets. He didn't entertain that fantasy long. He knew that Drea would have never been content with just taking out her rage on Onslow and Liv. He knew that if he hooked up with her, he would have gone down the path into madness just like she did.

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,


Oman often wondered what might have been. He remembered the director-person's interest. The feel of her lips on his. Her body pressed to his. She was soft and sweet. But under that exterior he sensed hardness and resolve. A life would her would mean watching his family die while he lived on. He would always know that she watched his family and knew more about them then they themselves did. Then there was the fact that she was the director-person! She might not be the Creator. But she was the Prophet. The Voice of She Who Wields the Mouse. And that would always come first for her. Not him, not any family they had together. And he was selfish enough to realize that he couldn't play second fiddle to an invisible voice that only she could hear.

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I marked the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.


Oman often wondered what might have been. He'd been so close to choosing Marina. She was lovely. Her voice was sweet and gentle as was her nature. She always said the right things at the wrong time and the wrong things at the right time. She cared about him. Loved him. Laughed with him. With her, his house would have been full of music. But as much as she loved him, she was always a little wary. Not of him, but of her companions in this world. She knew something and it worried her. It was if she didn't want to give people ammunition to use against her. She would have loved him and sung to him. But her heart would always be held a little aloof from him. He saw that whenever she spoke of this Rhys Fitzhugh and his father, Spencer. She loved those men, even though they exasperated her and hurt her. She would always be watching out for them, and that meant that she wouldn't be watching out for him. He didn't stop loving her, but he knew he couldn't live with her.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.


Oman often wondered what might have been. But not as often as he used to. He had grown up. Realized that if he constantly lived in the past, he would miss the future. It didn't mean he'd stop thinking about what might have been. But it no longer dominated his life. He had her to thank for that. Cee. His beautiful, stubborn, loving woman. The woman who he treated so unfairly but who still loved him. She was home to him. The place where he felt safe. He didn't have to wonder what life would be like with her, he knew. He knew that she was a wonderful, nurturing mother. He knew that they fought and fucked with equal passion. He knew that she was soft and sweet in all of the right places. He knew that she filled his heart with song, even though there was no sound audible the ear. She was all of the paths he hadn't taken on the path he had. She was the one who made the difference and he was grateful to whatever force led him to her.
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