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Chapter Text

That Forger girl was going to be the death of Damian.

As if a school camping trip wasn’t adventurous enough, Anya decided she wanted to explore the woods. Something about nature and dogs and butterflies. And of course Damian had to go with her, because he knew this commoner girl would not survive the wild. Anya Forger would cry she didn’t get a measly macaron, so what would happen if she fell into a river like Damian did? What would happen if she fell and scratched her knee? And, God forbid, she saw those stupid, terrifying worms? At least Damian had been on a field trip. He seriously doubted Anya, with her parents being a mind doctor and a clerk, had experienced even a taste of real danger. Those silly peasants knew nothing. Somebody had to step up for them.

And that was why he, the second son of the Desmond family, was going with the peasant girl. 

Anya gleefully skipped across tree roots, and turned to look at Damian. “Hey, Sy-on boy, thanks for worrying about me!”

Damian’s cheeks instantly flushed. “I never said anything about- LOOK OUT!”

He grabbed Anya’s arm and yanked her away from a low-hanging branch. “Are you blind?! Stupid girl!” He grumbled. But despite his harsh words, he was concerned for Anya. You could’ve hit that tree, and you could DIE, and I DON’T WANT YOU TO DIE!

“I don’t need words to know that you’re worrying about me,” Anya said airily. “And besides, I don’t die that easily!”

Damian puffed his chest. “Hah! The only reason you’re not dead yet is because I’m here!” He boldly declared. 

A drop of water fell on Damian’s nose, and he jumped. The two stared up at the rapidly darkening clouds. Damian instinctively shot a look at Anya- not because he liked her or anything, he just didn’t want to soil his family’s reputation, but why oh why did his chest feel so tight and weird?

“It’s raining. We should go back,” Damian said coolly, or as coolly as he could when he was totally-not-worried about Anya Forger. Without even thinking about it, he stretched a hand towards Anya. “Let’s go.”

Anya stared at Damian’s hand stupidly. She tilted her head like an adorable puppy, and Damian felt heat rise to his cheeks again. “W-what are you looking at?” He burst out defensively.

Then came the loudest, most terrifying sound Damian had ever heard. It was as if the sky had broken into two, and everything was crashing down, all of the screaming and shrieking, and Damian felt a sudden urge to bury his head in the ground. 

But Damian abruptly realized he was wrong. Thunder was only the second most terrifying sound he’d ever heard. Anya’s screaming was the first.

“ANYA!” Damian cried out in a panic. He swerved around, desperate to find her. A glimpse of too-familiar pink caught his eye, and he hurried towards it.

“EEEK!”

Damian could only watch in horror as Anya tumbled down a slope. Even though Damian knew it was a stupid thing to do, he stumbled after Anya. He narrowly avoided losing his balance and his shoes skidded along the wet dirt. “Anya!” He yelled again.

A peal of thunder rang through the air, and something warm suddenly collided with Damian. His arms automatically found their way around Anya. Anya was covered from head to toe with mud, and his uniform was definitely tainted by now, but Damian somehow found that was the least of his worries. It was certainly peculiar, because he usually cared a lot about his expensive clothes and appearance. But the only thing that mattered to him was the sobbing girl in his arms. 

“Thunder… loud…” Anya sniffed. “I’m scared…”

Anya lifted her head, and Damian felt his heart break. It was her stupid crying face again, with her big watery eyes and trembling lips that almost made Damian want to cry himself. Her cuteness was his weakness. Anya was always the one who made him do stupid things. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

“S-stop crying!” Damian huffed, his heart thumping madly. “It’s just thunder! It can’t hurt you!”

“B-but I’m cold…”

Damian was so caught up in his concern for Anya that he totally neglected they were both getting drenched. A violent shiver tore through him. 

“Urgh! Let’s find some shelter.” Damian grabbed Anya’s wrists and practically dragged her along. She was still weeping and hiccuping, and guilt consumed Damian like a tidal wave. He was a Desmond! He was supposed to protect her! Now she was crying and he couldn’t do anything to stop it. What sort of weak person was he?

Somehow, they managed to find a small cave to hide in. Damian helped Anya in first, then he sat by the entrance of the cave. “They’ll find us! It’ll be okay!” He exclaimed loudly. 

Anya rubbed her nose with the back of her hand. “I want Papa and Mama… and Bond… and Becky… I miss them…” Tears trickled down her red cheeks, and all traces of her smugness and bravado at school were gone. To Damian, Anya was just a helpless, terrified little girl without all the people she sought comfort from.

A clap of thunder sounded. Anya shrieked and curled up in a tiny ball, and Damian couldn’t take it any longer.

He firmly clasped Anya’s hand. She looked up, surprised. “Your father and mother might not be here, or that Blackbell girl either, but I’m here!” Damian passionately declared. “And I-I’ll protect you! So don’t be scared!”

A flash of lightning illuminated Anya’s pale face. Damian’s words seemed to have shocked her enough that she stopped crying. Anya tried to laugh, but it came out as more like a sob.

Still holding her hand, Damian sat down next to Anya. Anya cautiously shifted aside to make more space for him.

The next peal of thunder came, and Damian suppressed his urge to flinch. He was totally, definitely not scared of thunder! He was a strong boy! He was the second son of the Desmonds! He wasn’t going to run towards Father crying for help because Father would be ashamed of him! A-and, besides, if he couldn’t protect that crying girl next to him, then what could he do? The thunder continued to rumble, and Damian subconsciously squeezed Anya’s hand. He totally wasn’t shaking in his fear. He totally didn’t want to cry.

But Damian couldn’t hide it from himself. He was scared of thunder.

…

But it wasn’t like anyone would ever know, right? Damian had to be brave and smart in front of Anya. If he was panicking, then she would panic too, and nothing good would come out of that. And Damian really couldn’t stand that terrified look in Anya’s eyes. So, of course, Damian had to lie for Anya’s sake. 

(And he also wanted to look cool in front of her.)

“Hey, Sy-on boy?” Anya’s voice was uncharacteristically soft, probably due to her fear.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

“Mmhmm.”

And so the two of them sat in the musty cave and stubbornly held each other’s hands. And not once did they let each other go.

Contents:

1. Your Hand in Mine

Anya is scared of the thunder, so naturally Damian holds her hand to reassure her. And naturally, Anya finds out Damian is also scared of the thunder, and is only pretending to be brave for her sake.

(Based on the light novel!)

2. Blank

Anya tries to read Damian’s mind to collect information about his father, but Damian’s mind just turns blank when she approaches him. Awfully convenient for the sake of world peace, don’t you think?

3. Hair

Damian gels his hair for photo-taking day. Anya laughs at him.

4. Fake Dating

Damian realizes he can’t get his father’s attention even if he does well in his studies, so he tries a different method - by pretending to date a commoner girl. Anya agrees on the condition Damian lets her visit his house. But is it really as simple as that? (Aged up)

5. To Protect and Be Protected Part 1

Damian Desmond would die today at sunset. And only Anya Forger could save him. (Angst / Comfort) (Aged up)

6. To Protect and Be Protected Part 2

Through Bond's power, Anya learns that an attempt will be made on Damian's life. Anya tries to save Damian from his assassination attempt, but she falls unconscious and Loid saves both of them instead. Damian is very shaken and has a one-to-one talk with Loid about his family issues. When Anya wakes up, she asks to see Damian. (Angst / Comfort) (Aged up) (Happy ending)

7. August

Eighteen-year-old Damian and seventeen-year-old Anya enjoy one last summer together before Damian gets married off to someone else. (Post everything) (Aged up)

8. Warmth

Anya is cold. Damian has his Imperial Scholar’s robe. You can guess what happens next. (Aged up)

9. Swear

Damian Desmond learns to say “fuck”. That’s all. (Aged up, crack)

10. Soulmark

In a world where people get soulmarks on their 16th birthday, Damian is anxiously waiting for Anya to get hers to see if they match. What he doesn’t know is that Anya won’t turn sixteen for quite some time. (Aged up, Soulmate AU, light angst with a happy ending)

11. Doze

In which Anya is sleepy in class and Damian pretends not to care (except he does).

12. Trash

“Do you always name your trash?”

“Well, I did name you Sy-on boy.” (Fluff)

13. Headpat

Anya notices Damian wants a headpat.

14. A&D

Damian, Anya, and their two handkerchiefs. Alternate version of what could’ve happened in Ch 61 with the Old Lady Tonitrus terrorising the first years. (Fluff)

15. Fluster

Anya and Damian try to out-fluster each other while studying. (Aged up, Dating)

16. A Similar String

Damian Desmond could not be more different from Anya Forger. He was boastful, awfully blunt, sweated over his grades, had abandonment issues, wanted to impress his father by becoming an Imperial Scholar- wait, Anya swore she had a point. (Aged up, light angst, fluff).

17. Who Would?

Anya doesn’t like Damian. At least, she thinks she doesn’t. She scornfully wonders if anyone actually likes that spoiled brat, but her rhetorical question turns out to be… not so rhetorical after all. (Angst)

18. We Could Be The Way Forward (Fake Marriage AU Part 1)

Agent Starlight (real name: Anya Forger) and Agent Midnight (real name: Damian Desmond) are given a task: to pretend to be a married couple. The catch? They’re feuding highschool exes. 

(Aged up, fake marriage, crack, angst, drama, fluff)

19. Bee-loved

It's a lovely morning in Eden Academy, and you are an unusually large bee. (Fluff, crack)

20. Hot Chocolate

Damian notices Anya is cold at school and this bothers him more than it should. Thankfully, he has a sweet solution. (Fluff)

21. A Moment in Time

A day in the life of two dating Imperial Scholars. (Fluff, high school)

22. I'm In Your Twitch Chat

Anya is nineteen and a Twitch streamer. Damian “Not a Simp” Desmond is her top donor who never speaks in chat. (Modern / College / Twitch streamer AU, Crack, Fluff)

23. Knuckles To Your Lips

The history of Anya’s fist and Damian’s face over the years. (Fluff, light angst with a happy ending)

24. Piggyback

Anya tries to befriend Damian, Damian overthinks, Anya gets hurt, Damian helps Anya. A very typical fluffy scene. Oh, and he carries her on his back. (Fluff, crack)

25. Damian Is Not A Dog

When Damian asks Anya for the name of her dog, she accidentally replies with “Damian”. Shenanigans occur. (Fluff, crack)

Ch 26: Melted In The Rain

It was raining the day the scientists stole Anya in front of Damian. (Aged up, amnesia, angst with a happy ending)

Ch 27: Rice

Anya Forger only eats omurice from the school cafeteria during lunch. Damian thinks about it more than he should. (Fluff, Aged up)

Ch 28: Something Keeps Me Holding Onto Nothing

After a period of pretend dating, Anya and Damian break up. It’s her who cries. (Fake dating, aged up, angst)

Ch 29: Trajectory

In the end, it’s still a ball, a boy, and the girl he wants to protect. 

All the ways that dodgeball match could’ve ended. (Fluff)

Ch 30: Bloom

It's a beautiful spring day when Damian falls in love for the first (and the last) time. (Pure fluff, highschool)

Ch 31: Blackboard

Damian hates being on blackboard cleaning duty, but why is Anya just so short and why can’t he stop himself from helping her? (Fluff, aged up)

Ch 32: Paper Cut

“Anya doesn’t like you after all.”

Her words hurt him like a paper cut. That is to say: it shouldn’t have hurt him at all. (Fluff, cute)

Ch 33: A Little Like This

It happened a little like this.

Damian’s changing feelings for Anya as they both grow up. (Fluff, coming of age)

Ch 34: Smile

Anya has a soft, special smile that she only wears when she’s truly happy. And that smile’s never been directed at Damian. 

Or: Anya and Damian had a big fight as kids, they don’t talk anymore, and Damian learns the opposite of hate isn’t love; it’s indifference. (Bittersweet, angst, whump) 

Ch 35: Cast

Damian breaks his arm in a soccer match. Anya wants to leave her name on his cast. (Aged up, fluff)

Ch 36: Excuse

The rain is a convenient excuse for Damian to walk Anya to the bus stop. (Damianya Week 2022 Day 5: Storm/Sunshine, fluff, aged up) 

Ch 37: Favourite Mistake

Damian does not like making mistakes. He, however, has a favourite mistake- Anya Forger. (Angst)

Ch 38: You Never Called It What It Was

Anya is frustrated with her fake boyfriend, but not for reasons you might expect. (Fake dating, aged up, unrequited, angst)

Ch 39: Gifts

Damian, irrationally, gives gifts to Anya. Is that supposed to mean anything? (Fluff)

Ch 40: In This Soundless World

“But sometimes,” Anya dragged her words for dramatic effect, “when I’m around you, your thoughts feel like fireworks.”

Or, Anya’s ears start hurting in the cold and Damian helps her with it. (Fluff, aged up)

Ch 41: Beat

When Damian stands up for Anya, her heart starts beating faster. Just a little faster. (Fluff)

An extension of Ch 70-71. 

Ch 42: Pink

Loving Anya Forger was pink— because it was a pale imitation of romantic love. (Fluff, angst, unrequited maybe)

Ch 43: Childish

There was something silly yet endearing about liking someone when you were too young to understand what liking someone meant. (Fluff, hurt/comfort)

Ch 44: One Thump at a Time

Anya doesn’t understand romance. But then Sy-on boy smiles, and for some reason, her heart thumps. (Aged up, fluff)

Ch 45: Strange You Never Knew

"Damian," Anya says. "I noticed you don't get jealous anymore." (Aged up, fluff)

Chapter Text

Anya, of course, paid special attention to the son of her Papa’s target— Damian. Which meant she often tried reading Damian’s mind, because he might be thinking about his evil superboss father and Anya could bring peace to the world! 

(And Damian was smart and could help her out during tests.)

Anya’s mind reading skills grew stronger whenever she was staring at her target. The target’s voice would be the clearest if she was physically touching them. Mind reading was exhausting for Anya, and she didn’t want to be so tired that she would sleep through television time. So naturally, as a lazy kid, Anya wanted to get things done in the quickest way possible.

Damian, unlike Papa and Mama, did not have interesting thoughts. Sometimes it was “my clothes are wrinkled” or “I’m hungry for caviar”. Other times it was “this is stupid” and “I could’ve done better on this test”. And very occasionally it was “I wish Father would notice me”. 

Whenever Damian’s father-related thoughts drifted past Anya, Anya would immediately swerve to stare at Damian. It wasn’t anything personal, she just wanted to know more about the evil superboss guy. And most times, Damian would catch her staring and quickly look away.

But the annoying thing was that Damian’s mind would turn blank whenever Anya looked at him.

Blank. Nothing. Complete emptiness. Damian’s cheeks would be oddly flushed, but none of his thoughts were as interesting as his face (because he literally didn’t have a single thought.)

Disappointed, Anya would look away, and usually it would take several minutes for his thoughts to resurface, but they were confusing and random thoughts like “I hate myself for being like that” and “I can’t allow myself to feel those stupid feelings” and sometimes just a desperate “NOOOOOO!”.

Weird.

Anya only had one explanation. Damian somehow knew of her mind reading skills and had developed a highly complex way to clear his thoughts whenever she looked at him. That way, he could guard his thoughts from girls who were cruelly experimented on and accidentally gained superpowers. Anya nodded, impressed. Of course Sy-on boy with his smart brains would think of that. Well, at least he wasn’t blabbing her secret to everybody. Maybe Damian was just trained to guard his mind, and it wasn’t against her specifically.

Not being able to read Damian’s mind was awfully inconvenient for the mission. At least, that was what Anya told herself. She couldn’t deny that Damian made some real intriguing facial expressions. Sometimes, he could be nice, but sometimes, he was also a jerk who only cared about his success. And the oddest thing of all was that Damian was a big, fat liar. Lying was “not elegant” at all, yet Damian, second son of the Desmonds blah blah blah, did it all the time. 

When Anya wore a new hair clip to school (Becky had chosen it for her, of course), Damian would grumble and say Anya was ugly, but Anya could hear him think “she actually looks pretty”. Anya would ask Damian if she could visit his home, and Damian would curtly tell her “a commoner like you don’t deserve to set foot in the Desmond manor”, but he would think “I wish Father allowed me to bring friends back home”. Damian Desmond was a boy full of contradictions and mysteries. So really, it was natural for Anya to want to learn more about him. 

Anya and her class had a free period, and Anya decided she was going to find Damian once again. Instead of studying or doing other elegant things, Damian was doodling in his notebook. 

Anya was not a good artist, or even a decent artist, but for the few times she tried, she drew her family- Papa, Mama, Bond, and maybe Uncle Yuri if she felt like it. So it made perfect sense for Damian to draw his family, right? And Anya could walk over and casually strike up a conversation about Damian’s superboss dad. Anya nodded, very pleased with her plan. 

Ignoring Becky’s protests, Anya confidently sauntered towards Damian’s table. Damian was completely absorbed in his drawing and didn’t hear her footsteps. Anya, however, could hear his thought process. 

No! The hair is all wrong! And the smile is ugly too! Get it together, Damian Desmond! Damian grabbed his eraser and furiously started rubbing. You can’t even draw somebody you see every day?! Some sort of impressive drawing skills you have!

Anya’s signature smug grin snuck on her face. Aha! Damian was drawing somebody he saw every day, and that person must be his father! Who else could it be! Perhaps some of Papa’s intellect and deduction skills had trickled down to Anya. This would be such an easy mission!

“Hi, Sy-on boy!” Anya said cheerfully.

Damian jumped and slammed his notebook shut with a BANG! “W-what are you doing here?!” He practically screamed at her, his cheeks ablaze. “Can’t you see I’m busy?”

Anya shifted closer, an innocent look on her face. “Who are you drawing?”

As expected, Anya couldn’t read Damian’s mind for the answer. Damian wasn’t thinking about anything at all- maybe he couldn’t think. His cheeks were oddly red, and Anya couldn’t help but be concerned. Perhaps he was sick? She moved even closer, and Damian leapt as if he was bit by a dog. 

“I-I wasn’t drawing anybody!” Damian grumbled. A lie. He clutched his notebook protectively to his chest. “Mind your own business!”

Anya knew Damian was smart. He knew a lot of things. So, it was certainly weird for him to have no thoughts whatsoever. Maybe Damian wasn’t guarding his thoughts. Maybe he just wasn’t feeling well. 

Anya was supposed to get closer to Damian for the mission, but she did feel genuine concern for him. She reached out a hand and placed it on Damian’s forehead. “Sy-on boy, do you have a fever? You should go home if you’re sick.”

Damian froze like he’d been struck by lightning. “I… I…” he spluttered out, cheeks redder than before.

Due to Anya touching Damian, she suddenly had access to more of his thoughts. His mind was a gigantic mess and Anya struggled to find a coherent sentence. 

“She’s touching me?!” “Am I sick after all?” “Go away!” “NOOOOOO!” “This is STUPID!” “Sh-she’s WORRIED about me?” “I can’t do this anymore AAAAAAA-”

Anya withdrew her hand, and all of Damian’s jumbled up thoughts vanished. A slight frown appeared on her face. Her mission to collect information on Damian’s father was a failure. Damian’s brain seemed to stop working around Anya for whatever reason.

But-

“Your forehead is hot,” Anya informed Damian like the nice, helpful classmate she was. “You should visit the nurse.”

“I-I’m not sick!” Damian burst out hotly.

“Ohh?” Anya started smirking, which she knew would annoy Damian. “Your temperature says otherwise. Face it, Sy-on boy! YOU HAVE A FEVER!” She declared gleefully. 

“Anya! We need you over here!” Becky suddenly tugged on Anya’s arm and dragged her away. Becky turned to scowl at Damian. “You don’t deserve her time, you hear me?”

As Anya and Becky walked away, Anya could feel Damian staring at the back of her head. She shrugged and attempted to read his mind once more, but as expected, his mind was blank. 

But then she heard it.

A thought so fleeting and quiet that she nearly missed it.

She’s so cute...

Chapter Text

“Haha, Sy-on boy! You look like a drowned chicken today!”

Anya smirked at Damian. The boy had appeared at school with his brown hair slicked back and flat against his head. It made him look a little bald, a little awkward, and very, very stupid.

“Excuse you, peasant girl!” Damian snarked back. He protectively placed a hand on his hair. “This took ages to style! I have to look my best for photo-taking day.”

“Oh yeah?” Anya challenged him. “You definitely look better on other days.”

Damian froze and his cheeks turned red. Anya could read his mind easily. “So she thinks I look good normally? Is that what she’s implying? Has she finally fallen for my charming good looks?”

“Today, you just look like a very sad chicken that ran through the rain,” Anya drawled. “Or maybe your hair was dunked in oil. It’s very unflattering, ya know. Other hairstyles look waaay better on you.”

“I don’t care about your stupid opinion!” Damian burst out and stomped away, but his inner thoughts were clear. “Anya thinks I look silly? What do I do now, change my entire look?!”

Anya cleared her throat. “But… I guess changing it up a little is nice, Sy-on boy. And anyways, it’s not like you look particularly handsome usually, so it doesn’t matter to me. I’m going to find Becky now, bye!” And then she sauntered away, unknowingly taking part of Damian’s heart with her. 

That was how Anya casually tore Damian’s ego to shreds. And Damian furiously decided gel was the stupidest invention man had ever created. 

“Boss man, why are you letting her wash your hair when you won’t even let us touch your gelled hair?”

“Mind your own business, Ewen,” Damian snapped.

He was bent over a basin as Anya washed the gel out of his hair after the photo-taking session. Anya was curious about how gel worked, and Damian wanted to prove that his hair was, in fact, not oily at all. 

“Why is your hair so hard?” Anya marvelled. “It’s all clumped together.”

“Because it’s gelled, dummy! And see! My hair is NOT oily!”

Anya frowned. “But it’s still weird. My hair doesn’t need this jelly thing.”

“Because your hair is naturally poofy!” And cute, Damian privately added. 

“Heh, Sy-on boy, I think my hair is cute too,” Anya sniggered.

Damian froze. Did she just read my mind? Besides, who calls themselves cute? What’s up with this bad-mannered girl?!

As Anya methodically washed his hair, warmth bubbled in Damian’s stomach. His parents never paid much attention to him, so it was actually really nice that Anya and everyone else was there. Maybe this was what it felt like to be “cared for”...

Damian’s musings were interrupted when Anya tugged on his hair too roughly. “Ouch! Be careful!” He complained.

“Sorry, sorry!” Anya laughed. She instinctively rubbed the spot she’d hurt him to ease the pain. To Damian, it was almost like a head pat… except head pats were stupid and he definitely didn’t want one…

“I’m done!” Anya declared cheerfully. “Except… well…”

Becky, Emile and Ewen crowded around Damian, curious expressions on their faces. Becky looked horrified. “Anya!” She scolded. “What have you done to him!”

A shiver ran down Damian’s spine. “What have you-” Emile helpfully provided a mirror, and Damian stared at it. His normally neatly parted hair was sticking out everywhere like a bird’s nest. He looked the complete opposite of elegant. It was horrendous. It was ugly. It was-

“Ahh…” Anya rubbed her neck. “Sorry?” She offered sheepishly. 

“Oy, Boss man doesn’t like it!” Ewen growled. “Go apologize to him!”

“Yeah!” Emile cheered. “Looks like your fingers are just as stubby as your legs! Hah!”

Anya’s lip started trembling again, and heat rose towards Damian’s cheeks. He really could never bear it when she cried.

“I’m sorry…” Anya blubbed, her fingers twisting nervously. “I-I just wanted to make you like me…”

Well, Damian might as well have been shot by Cupid himself. 

“It’s fine!” Damian yelled, his voice way louder than nervously. His peers jumped in surprise, and Anya gazed at him, confused. “I like it!!”

“But you think it’s ugly…”

“Yeah, you’re damn right!” Damian declared. He knew he was acting like a madman, but he didn’t care. “My hair does look ugly! But I like it because- because you styled it!”

Damian’s cheeks were so hot they rivaled the heat of the sun. He turned his nose up to avoid looking at Anya because he was sure if he did, he would instantly explode.

Emile laughed. “Hey, Boss man, you don’t need to lie to make her feel better…”

“He’s not lying,” came Anya’s voice. She instantly looked way better, and her usual cheeky smile was returning. “Soo, Sy-on boy, can I play with your hair all day?” 

Damian’s heart pounded furiously and his mind turned blank. “Wha- I- YES! I mean NO! Don’t! Because I-I-”

Damian was so overwhelmed, he fell face forward in the water basin and fainted. The four quickly dragged him up so he wouldn’t drown. Becky gaped at Anya, awed.

“I think you just broke him…”

Chapter Text

In the end, none of it mattered.

Damian tossed his test papers on his bed with a sigh. He’d gotten 92 in Math, even 98 in History, but Father didn’t bat an eye. Nor did he care when Damian managed a snatch a Stellar Star by winning an art competition. Damian could literally create world peace and he would still be in the shadow of his older brother Demetrius.

It was so unfair. 

Damian had tried so hard from the moment he entered Eden Academy. He made sure to study for every test and sought to win every competition that he knew of. While his friends were frolicking in the fields, Damian’s nose was buried in his textbook. Heck, he even started ignoring Anya’s attempts to talk to him (which hurt a lot more than it should). Damian’s social life was suffering, but at least he managed to perform well in his studies. Too bad none of it could win Father’s affections.

And Damian was sick of it. All of his hard work and sacrifice had virtually been for nothing.

“Father will never notice me anyway,” Damian said out loud. The words felt heavy and depressing on his tongue.

To cheer himself up, Damian diverted his thoughts to happier things. Eden would serve lobster tomorrow. They had a field trip to the mountains next month. He would see Anya at school (he saw her everyday, but it was somehow still a highlight in his life).

What would Anya do if she was in his situation? Damian idly spun a pen. Anya had a (cute) habit of aggravating people with her smug smiles. Knowing her, she would probably come up with a ridiculous plan to grab Father’s attention. Maybe she would run away from home. Maybe she would hide at Becky’s place. Or maybe she could get a boyfriend.

Damian stopped spinning his pen. That was it! Anya was a genius (even if she wasn’t there)! If Damian got a girlfriend, which was someone he could potentially marry, Father had to pay attention to him, right? Because Damian was finding somebody to continue the Desmond bloodline. Surely Father wouldn’t ignore him. Damian’s heart thumped, and he couldn’t resist grinning.

But Damian was tired of the conventional. If winning Stellar Stars and competitions didn’t impress Father, then a girlfriend probably wouldn’t as well. Damian had to do something out of the blue. Something extraordinary.

The idea came to him as naturally as the way Anya Forger wove her way into his heart.

Damian would date a commoner girl.

It would be big. It would be scandalous. Damian would probably get yelled at, but getting yelled at was better than being ignored. And besides, Damian could give Father a good scare. Father deserves it, Damian wickedly thought. And then he’ll start noticing me more!

Damian was so excited about his new plan that he didn’t care to work out the details. For instance, he didn’t even think about who he should fake-date. But then again, Damian didn’t need to find someone when he had a certain girl on his mind the whole time.

“Good morning, Anya!”

Anya yawned and turned to face Becky. “Morning, Becky! Your hair looks cute today!”

Becky’s eyes shone. “Really?” She self-consciously patted her braided bun.

Anya patted Becky’s shoulder. “Yup! In fact, I would even call it elegant.”

The two sniggered over Anya’s imitation of Henderson’s accent, then ambled into the classroom. Damian was early as always, but instead of studying, he was glaring at the clock like it was his nemesis.

Over the years, Anya had learned to shut off other people’s minds, but her curiosity was getting the better of her. Damian was always grumpy, but this time, he looked genuinely troubled. Anya tried to hear Damian’s thoughts.

“Alright, let’s practice this one more time. Anya Forger, will you go out with me?”

Anya squeaked, then tripped over thin air. She unceremoniously crashed into a nearby desk- to her embarrassment, it was Damian’s desk. 

Damian frowned. “You alright, Forger?” He sounded nonchalant, but Anya could hear his panicked thoughts clearly. “She just fell and you couldn’t stop her! If she really hurt herself, it’s YOUR fault!”

Anya stared at Damian’s face. His cheeks were tinged with pink, but he looked relatively calm. Was this the face of somebody preparing to… to ask her out?!

Ask her out? Like the way Pa asked Ma for a date? The way Princess Honey confessed to Bondman in Spy Wars? And now it was applying to Anya herself?

“Sorry!” Anya blurted out for no real reason. She hurried back to her desk, her heart thumping loudly. Her hands felt weak and they shook when she pulled out her books.

Damian had always been a confusing one. He claimed he didn't like her, yet his thoughts and actions were the complete opposite. Despite Anya being a frustrating person to teach, Damian would never refuse her if she asked him to tutor her. When some of their classmates laughed at Anya, Damian would always rush to her defense (and lie about how he didn’t care about Anya). 

But now… did Damian like her the way Pa and Ma liked each other?

Anya huffed. That was a silly thought, wasn’t it? Somebody had probably dared Damian to ask her out as a joke. Because no way did Damian like her for real. Anya tried to read Damian’s mind again, but his thoughts were just him panicking about how Anya nearly fell. Of course he would be worried, because friends worry about friends all the time. You’re overthinking, Anya scolded herself.

At least, that was what she told herself.

“So…” Damian scratched the back of his neck. He had asked Anya for a quick chat in between lessons. “I have a proposal.”

Proposal. That single word sent Anya’s heart in a flurry. Anya desperately searched Damian’s mind but she couldn’t hear anything. Surely it was a marriage proposal, like how Pa and Ma got married? But they were definitely too young for that, so what on Earth was Damian talking about?

Damian seemed to have noticed her flushed face, because he flushed too. He coughed and continued. “Father hasn’t been paying any attention to me, so I want to surprise him by dating a girl. You know, like pretend dating. So he’ll finally acknowledge my existence.”

“Oh.” Anya was greatly relieved, although a teensy tiny part of her felt slightly let down by the “pretend” part. Just a tiny bit! And she didn’t know why she was let down!

“So. Erm.” Damian stared at the floor and shifted awkwardly. “Anya Forger, will you go out with me?”

“Why me in particular?”

“Because I like you.”

Damian’s thoughts echoed his words. He said it so casually, so naturally, like it was a fact. Now it was Anya’s turn to freeze. The sky was blue. Pa was Twilight. Ma was the Thorn Princess. Damian Desmond liked Anya Forger. Huh.

With Anya stunned into silence, Damian started panicking. “I-I mean!” Damian waved his hands frantically, his cheeks reddening. “I- I don’t dislike you! You’re my friend! You’re the only commoner girl who likes me!” Damian realised he’d used the term “like” again and flushed. “You’re literally the only option I have so I’m asking you!”

Anya didn’t dare to read Damian’s mind. “Oh. So you want me to be your fake girlfriend.”

A pause. “Yeah. My girlfriend… who is fake.” Damian’s voice was oddly soft.

Anya forced her thoughts to return to world peace. This was a one-in-a-million opportunity and she would hate herself if she missed it. “Sure. But on one condition.”

“Yeah?” Damian sounded nervous.

Anya grinned at Damian. “I get to visit your house.”

Damian scowled. “What is it with your obsession with my house? I don’t even live there during term time.”

Anya smirked. “Heh? I thought you like to show off your rich people things,” she drawled, knowing she was annoying Damian.

“But you can’t invite yourself into MY house!” Damian retorted, then slapped his forehead. “Ugh. Actually, Father doesn’t allow any of my friends to visit (even though he lets my brother’s friends visit), but I guess a girlfriend should be important enough?”

“Yeah?”

“Hm. So… do we have a deal?”

Anya stared at Damian, who was looking very embarrassed by now. She would’ve teased him a little more, but she felt slightly bad. “Deal. So how do we convince your dad that we’re dating?”

“Ohhh.” A smug smile tugged on Damian’s lips. “I actually did some research on it! Lots of Eden faculty members know Father, so we’ll have to act like a couple at school. We should convince Jeeves as well; he’s my butler. Father will surely hear about it sooner or later even if we don’t see him.”

Anya recalled Becky’s ramblings about her favourite romantic drama. “... I guess we can hold hands in front of these people then.”

Colour blossomed on Damian’s cheeks. “Yup, holding hands…” he muttered. “And maybe we can go on these things called “dates”. Like, we can watch movies. Go to the park. Or something.” Damian was spitting out his words one by one, and Anya found that rather endearing.

Anya recalled Ma and Pa back at home. “We’re not gonna kiss, right?” she asked nervously.

Damian looked scandalized. “EWWWW! That’s gross and disgusting! No WAY are we doing that!”

Anya dramatically exhaled. “Phew. I don’t wanna kiss you too, Sy-on boy.”

Damian crossed his arms. “Good. Also, no one can know about our fake dating. Not your parents. Not Becky.”

Anya blinked. “Okay, that’s reasonable.” Pa and Ma were in a fake marriage. Anya and Damian were in a fake relationship. Just a normal day for the Forger family. “Hope it won’t be too shocking for them that they start to suspect…”

For some reason, people didn’t find it much of a surprise. Becky squealed, then threatened Damian (something about cutting holes in his shirt if he broke Anya’s heart). Ewen and Emile patted Damian’s shoulder and congratulated him on finally admitting his feelings for her. Even their teachers nodded their approval and told the two not to neglect their studies. One even enthusiastically asked Damian to tutor Anya more. The first day hadn’t even passed, but it seemed like the entire school knew about it already. The second son of the prestigious Desmond family had found himself a girlfriend.

The lunch bell rang, and Eden students hurried towards the cafeteria. Anya found Damian’s mop of brown hair and tugged on his uniform. “Hey, Sy-on boy, we have to sit together. We’re a couple, right?”

Damian froze, and he brought a hand to cover his red face. “Yeah, of course. Let’s... umm…” Damian abruptly snatched Anya’s hand and dragged her towards a table. “Let’s sit here! Together!”

“Umm, Sy-on boy…” Anya smirked at him. “Your hands are sweaty.”

Damian jerked his hand away and hastily wiped them. “No, your hands are sweaty!”

Other students whispered and giggled at them. Anya tried to read their minds and expected backlash, but instead she heard “Awwww they’re so cute!” “This is like a classic Cinderella story!” “They’ve been friends since they entered this school!” “I totally saw this coming.”

Well. Anya supposed they were being a convincing couple. Soon, Damian’s father would hear about it, and she could bring her Pa to visit the Desmond household, and boom! World peace could be achieved!

A voice interrupted her thoughts. “What are you staring at?” Damian huffed. “Go away! Leave us alone!”

The curious students scampered away, and Damian furiously dug his fork in his steak (in a very not-elegant way). “Geez! Everyone’s being annoying!”

Anya prodded her vegetables. “I know, right?” She whined. “Have we overdone it?”

“We just held hands in front of the class,” Damian grumbled. “Ugh, I didn’t expect this to blow up quickly! I-I-”

Anya read Damian’s thoughts. “I’m sorry for dragging you into this… maybe I should’ve asked someone else… but who could it be if not you? I have to protect you from nasty rumours now.”

She bit back a smile. She always knew what Damian thought, but whether he told her was a different story. In the past, he would usually lie or talk about something else.

“... I’m sorry,” Damian mumbled, “for exposing you and making everyone notice you.” Aha! So Damian didn’t lie this time. 

“Nah, it’s good!” Anya broadly grinned at Damian. “I’m used to hearing people talk (think) about me.” 

A cake plopped down in front of them. It was an elegantly decorated strawberry cream chiffon cake. To their surprise, it was from one of the chefs at Eden Academy. “Congratulations!” He gushed. “We wish you great happiness!”

“Ah, thanks,” Anya said politely, while Damian’s mind had blanked out again. After the chef left, she said, “Geez, Damian, they’re all acting like we got married or something…”

Damian looked like a roasted tomato. “W-what did you just call me?” He croaked out.

Anya tilted her head, confused. “... Damian? It’s your name?”

“D-don’t you always call me Sy-on boy?”

“Would you rather me call you that, then?”

Damian was slowly inching away from Anya. His face was postively flaming, and Anya wondered if he was going to faint. “C-call me whatever you like!” He spluttered out.

Anya shrugged. A mischievous idea snuck into her head. “Okay, jerk.”

“HEY!”

“Just kidding,” Anya said lightly. “Hey, should we divide this cake in half?”

“I’ll do it.” Damian grabbed the knife and cut the cake with a surprisingly solemn expression. Anya watched as Damian’s serious eyes flitted up, then back to the cake. “And people’s staring at us.”

Anya could tell without looking (because, obviously, she could read minds). “We should put on a performance.”

“Yeah.”

“Becky said something about couples feeding each other food, soooo we can try that?”

“Sure. Open your mouth.”

Anya blinked and saw Damian hold up a piece of cake with a fork. She did as told, and Damian put the cake in her mouth. Both of them could hear people “ooooohing” around them. For no reason, Anya’s heart skipped a beat.

It was weird being fed like that. It was something only her parents would do. And it made her stomach feel tingly and warm. To distract herself, she hurriedly started eating her portion of the cake. Next to her, Damian placed the fork in his mouth and started internally screaming.

“I JUST USED THE SAME FORK AS SHE DID! IS THIS WHAT THEY CALL AN INDIRECT KISS-”

“Pa! Ma! I’m dating Damian Desmond!” Anya cheerfully declared.

Loid dropped his briefcase. Yor dropped her kitchen knife. Bond barked.

“Ohh… that’s great, sweetie!” Yor exclaimed, but her thoughts were “if that kid dares to hurt OUR Anya, I’ll murder him and his entire family”.

Anya shifted on her two feet. “And I might be able to visit his house! Yay!”

Loid was having a crisis. “Oh dear, what have I done? I only intended for Anya to befriend Damian, not to date him! She’s not supposed to be involved in romance! What if she learns seduction skills later? I won’t allow that!”

Anya had no idea what “seduction” was, but since Pa didn’t like it, Anya would avoid it. 

“... How did this happen?” Loid asked with somewhat of a forced smile. “I want this mission to be a success, but getting Anya and Damian’s love lives involved is a bit too much…”

Anya blinked. They hadn’t come up with a story yet, so Anya decided to be very vague. “Oh, he just asked me out this morning. Then we had lunch together and he fed me cake.”

Yor peered at Anya. “… Do you really like Damian?”

Anya huffed. “Well, duh! He’s my boyfriend! So of course I like him!” She tossed her hair behind her shoulder with dramatic flair. 

“I don’t think Anya really understands love…” Yor and Loid thought in unison.

“Huh, don’t you think that Desmond kid and his girlfriend don’t really suit each other?”

“Yeah, I’ve never heard of the surname Forger before. Is he allowed to date a mere commoner?”

“That Forger girl isn’t particularly smart as well, I hear she sometimes doesn’t meet the average…”

“Hey!” Damian angrily declared. He snootily turned his nose up to the gossiping older students. “Don’t be mean to Anya!”

“Yeah!” Anya imitated Damian and turned up her nose as well. She mischievously smiled. “You don’t want to face our rage! I’ll destroy you! Ha ha ha!”

The older students stared down at them, surprised by their bravado. 

“No one gets to insult my girlfriend!” Damian boldly declared. “Except for me, of course.”

(Anya’s brain stuttered for a moment when he called her his “girlfriend”, but she covered it up by smiling cheekily as always.)

“Boss man!” Ewen cheerfully sang.

“Guess who’s here!” Emile echoed Ewen’s gleeful tone.

Damian looked up from his book with a mildly annoyed expression. It was a Saturday, which meant all the other students were gone except those living in the dormitories. “What’s going on?”

Emile grinned mischievously. “Don’t you wanna see your girlfriend?”

Damian abruptly inhaled and dropped his book in his lap. Pink dotted his cheeks. “What’s Anya doing here?” He choked out.

“To see her boyfriend, of course,” Ewen supplied helpfully.

Damian immediately hurried towards the school lawn, a hundred thoughts bursting in his mind. They weren’t at school, so they didn’t need to pretend to be a couple, so why was she taking time to see him on a holiday? Maybe she needed to convince someone else? Maybe she wanted to prove to someone she had a boyfriend? Or maybe… she just missed him?

Damian’s heart thumped madly. You’re overthinking this.

“Good afternoon, Sy-on boy!”

He spun to see a beautiful sight- Anya Forger wearing a flower crown made of white carnations. Instead of her uniform, she wore a green dress that complemented her eyes. Damian couldn’t help but blush. Who knew commoner clothes would look even better than the haute gowns Damian saw in stores?

“Afternoon, Anya,” he stuttered out a reply.

He was aware Ewen and Emile were spying on them, but his heart was pounding too madly for him to focus on anything else.

“Pa was teaching me to make flower crowns,” Anya said brightly. “And I thought you would want one!”

Such lowly entertainment, Damian thought to himself, echoing the words Father often used. Is that what happens when they can’t afford to buy jewelry? Flowers wilt, so I should buy Anya something more permanent. Maybe a bracelet! Or a necklace! But that seems too big. Maybe something smaller like a ring. Yup, a ring with a big gem seems nice-

Anya’s face fell. “Well… I guess you don’t want it,” she muttered sadly.

Damian gasped. “What? No! I never said that!” He protested. “I-I was just thinking about how flowers will wilt, and maybe you’ll want something nicer as an accessory-”

Anya gave an exaggerated sigh. “Geez, Sy-on boy, I don’t want gifts! This is my gift to you!” And then she plopped the flower crown on Damian’s head.

Damian grew so hot it was a miracle the flowers didn’t wilt immediately. “T-thanks… this is nice…” He muttered. Suddenly the ground seemed so interesting. “... Can you teach me to make a flower crown?”

Later that night, Damian searched up the meaning for white carnations, and blushed even more.

“When can I go to your house, Sy-on boy?”

Damian flushed. “I’m still working on it!”

“Miss Forger, why do you wish to visit the Desmond residence so much?”

Damian and Anya jumped when Damian’s butler, Jeeves, appeared out of nowhere. Anya had to quickly think of a lie so Jeeves wouldn’t get suspicious.

“Uh… well… because Damian’s inheriting it! And I want to see the house he’s living in because y’know… I’m dating him!” Anya blabbered. She nervously looked at Damian, but he seemed as clueless as she was. So she turned to Jeeves.

“Such insight does Miss Forger have!” Jeeves marveled. “She’s already preparing to be Mrs Desmond and checking out her potential future residence!”

Anya shot Jeeves a quick grateful look. “And I might live in the house later! Getting married and all that!” She casually drawled.

Damian yelped and nearly tripped on his own feet. Anya grabbed his arm to stabilise him. She didn’t need to read his mind to know that he was screaming again. 

“Anya, two things.” Damian wagged a finger in front of Anya’s nose. (It was cute how she got all cross-eyed.) “Firstly, I’m not inheriting the manor, my brother is. Secondly, my brother lives there. If we get married, you probably can’t move in.”

Anya shrugged, completely unaffected. “Then just kick him out?”

Damian and Jeeves stared at Anya. Jeeves’ jaw dropped.

“… I'm starting to understand why the young master likes her so much. What a purposeful, determined young lady!”

“Oy, Demetrius, my girlfriend wants to kick you out of the house!”

“… How did you get a girlfriend before me?”

Chapter Text

Anya was sleeping soundly in her bedroom when Bond barged inside and pounced on her.

“Bond! Stop it!” Anya scolded. “It’s not time to wake up for school—“

Bond pushed his head under Anya’s hands and gave a desperate, panicked “borf!”. Before Anya could take another breath, a vision from Bond slid into her mind. A crowd of faceless people were at the park, and judging from the orange sky, it was near sunset. The crowd parted to reveal a small body lying on the ground, blood pooling from the body. Anya’s heart pounded.

And then Anya recognised that mop of too-familiar brown hair.

Damian Desmond would die today at sunset.

Anya gasped, completely horrified. It was like a bucket of ice water had been poured over her heart, and she was violently reminded of the time she saw a vision of Pa’s death. Her shaking hands stroked Bond’s back. “Umm Bond, do you have anything more for me?” She uttered. Bond let out a sad whine. A no.

“I have to save Damian!” Anya declared, and flung her blankets off. Bond had woken her up thirty minutes before she was supposed to, and usually Anya would grumble about how sleepy she was, but all of her exhaustion had faded away. There was something way more important on the line— Damian’s life. Anya couldn’t afford to freak out because time was of the essence.

“Bond!” Anya cried out, and the dog leapt to attention. “Can you show me that premonition again?”

Bond obliged, and Anya mustered up all of her intellect and detective skills. No one would accidentally die at the park, and Damian was the son of a really evil guy… maybe someone wanted Damian dead? And hired an assassin like Ma to kill Damian? Anya placed her hand over her mouth and tried not to vomit.

Either way, Anya had until sunset to save Damian. And unlike everyone else, Anya could read minds. She could potentially find out who wanted him dead. And she could change Damian’s fate like how she changed Pa’s fate!

Pa! Anya’s face brightened. Pa would help her! Because Pa needed Damian for world peace! Anya hurried to the living room, only to find a note on the dining table.

Sorry, something urgent at work came up, and I have to leave early in the morning. But I’ll cook dinner tonight to make up for it! Love, Papa 

Anya let out a frustrated sigh. It wasn’t even seven in the morning, and Pa had one of his important missions already. Ma had her day job (she knew Ma had skipped a few days for her assassin job, and she had to behave at work so as not to raise suspicions). She couldn’t take Bond to school. And she couldn’t tell anyone because they would think she was crazy, and probably drag her to an asylum, and those creepy scientists would find her again—

Anya gulped. She had to rely on her wits. As nervous as she was, she sought comfort in the fact that she could change fate. If she could save Pa, she could save Damian.

Anya was so stressed she practically ignored Becky and charged towards Damian. It was a relief to see him alive and breathing, but that image was quickly tainted by the vision of his dead body. Anya reached out a hand towards Damian, then stopped.

“Good morning,” Damian said automatically. Anya stepped closer to him, and Damian backed up, his cheeks flaming. “Oy, dummy! Haven’t you heard of personal space?!”

“Where are you going after school?” Anya asked directly.

“To the park!” Damian puffed his chest, a smug smirk on his face. “I’m going to meet up with a famous artist who’s gonna teach me to paint!”

Anya’s heart sank. She bit her trembling lip. “Well… can you not go to the park? And stay here with me?”

“Why?”

Anya tried to lie. “Because— because I HAVE SOMETHING TO TELL YOU!” She burst out.

So not elegant, Anya, she scolded herself. You should’ve been more like Pa and Ma! Now you’re gonna look all suspicious and—

“Sorry, Forger, but I’m booked for the day,” Damian drawled. “You can find me tomorrow, buuut I’ll let you know I’m a very busy man.”

Damian still had his stupid smug smile on his face, and Anya wanted to cry. Damian didn’t know he was going to die, he didn’t know there was no tomorrow, and thus he wasn’t worried at all. Except the burden had shifted into Anya, and she was doing a pretty bad job at protecting him. Guilt overwhelmed her and tears filled her eyes. “I… I…” Anya tried to speak, but all that came up was a pathetic croak. 

A warm hand suddenly grabbed hers. Anya watched in surprise as Damian dragged her away and led her to a secluded spot. She barely had the mental energy to read his mind when Damian spun, an unusual look of solemnity and concern in his eyes. “Hey, Anya, did something bad happen?” He asked in a low voice.

Anya shook her head, but more tears just spilled out. Damian hastily offered her a handkerchief but Anya was too lost in her own thoughts. She had to convince him to stay, and she had to fight all the bad guys wanting to kill him, and except Ma and Pa weren’t there, and neither were Uncle Yuri and Uncle Franky and that crazy Fiona lady, and—

Something touched her cheek. Damian was dabbing at her eyes with his handkerchief, his touch surprisingly gentle. Instead of being annoyed or grumpy like he usually was, Damian looked… afraid. Not because he was going to die, but because Anya was weeping. 

“What’s going on with her?” Damian’s thoughts were crying out. “This isn’t like her at all! She’s never looked this vulnerable and scared. Did something bad happen? Did she fight with Becky? Did her parents fight? I’m so worried for her!”

Anya managed a weak laugh. Damian was worried for her, and she was worried for Damian. This was a horrible situation. 

“…Something bad is going to happen,” Anya mumbled. “And I don’t want it to happen.”

Damian looked intensely concerned. “Something bad’s gonna happen to you?”

No, to you! Anya cried out, but since Damian technically said the truth, she nodded. 

“W-well… don’t be scared!” Damian announced, a hand on his chest. He flashed Anya a reassuring grin.  “Because I’m my father’s son! I-I’m gonna protect you from the bad things! I promise!”

… Ahh, how ironic. She was supposed to protect him, not the other way round. “Thanks for saying that,” she sniffled. 

“… Well, I guess I can ask the art teacher to postpone,” Damian mumbled after a while. His cheeks coloured, and he stared at his shoes. “Because- because you look like you need help…”

“Really?”

“Yeah!” Damian looked embarrassed, but he continued to dab at Anya’s face with care. “I’ll just… tell them an emergency came up.”

Anya laughed. “I guess… it sort of is an emergency…”

“Anya crying is always an emergency!” Damian internally screamed, his eyebrows knitted together. “Who made her cry?! I’ll beat them up for her!” 

Anya thought Damian looked a little (just a little!) cool with his declaration to “protect” her, but she buried that thought in her mind. Damian’s life was more important. “Thanks, Sy-on boy.” That nickname slipped out automatically. “Also sorry for dirtying your handkerchief.”

Damian flushed. “Y-you can keep it!” He stuttered out. 

“Aww, you can be nice too.” Anya was feeling sentimental, so she dashed forward and wrapped her arms around Damian. Damian froze, then awkwardly petted Anya’s head.

Anya could hear Damian’s heart beat steadily. It was a comforting sound, a reminder he was still alive, until his heartbeat started speeding up for no reason at all. Scared she might somehow hug him to death, she reluctantly let go.

“Well, let’s go to class,” Damian mumbled, his cheeks tinged with pink.

Anya rolled up Damian’s handkerchief in a ball and stuffed it in her pocket. “Yeah, let’s go.”

Anya was unusually subdued for the entire day. Becky, of course, had noticed, but it wasn’t like Anya could tell her “my dog can see the future and he just told me Damian’s gonna die, which is why I’m so distracted”. That being said, Anya didn’t like lying to her best friend either, so she gave half-hearted replies. 

Anya could barely focus in class. Her pencil was quickly moving, but her mind wasn’t on the syllabus at all. She stared at her own scribbles.

“Not going to the park… death at park… pool of blood… knife or gun… assassination… Pa’s secret mission…”

Anya sighed. She should be glad she’d somehow gotten Damian to cancel. Now, she just needed to think of a very believable lie. If Damian stayed at Eden until the sun had completely set, he should be safe, right?

“... Target spotted. Two seats from the right, front row.”

Anya jolted at the thought from an unfamiliar person. She frantically looked around, but didn’t see anyone except for her classmates and her teacher. She counted two seats from the right, and to her horror, that was Damian’s seat. Anya nearly dropped her pencil.

They had infiltrated the school.

Keeping Damian from the park wasn’t enough. The killers were right there and to Anya’s frustration, she didn’t know where they were hiding. If she wasn’t careful, Damian could die right now. 

RIIING!

Anya was so shocked by the lunch bell she actually fell from her chair. Becky gasped and helped her up. “You alright, Anya?” 

Distracted, Anya shook her head. “Sorry, Becky, I have something important to do.” Without another word, she zoomed out of the classroom, intent on chasing that mysterious killer down.

Becky gazed at Anya’s retreating backside sorrowfully. “Was it something I did? Why is Anya acting so weird today?”

Eden was serving lobster today, but Damian could hardly enjoy it. Ewen and Emile had noticed his glum mood and kept quiet. Damian half-heartedly shoved his food on his plate.

“Desmond!”

Damian looked up. Becky was glaring at him. “Did you hurt Anya?” She accused him.

“No!” Damian angrily replied with more force than necessary. “I-If she’s sad then I’m sad too!”

Becky’s face softened, even if just a little. “... Do you know what happened to her?”

Damian’s throat felt dry. Did Anya not tell her best friend? “She… she told me something bad is going to happen to her. And she asked me to stay with her after school. That’s all I know,” he replied. He didn’t even notice his hand was shaking until he nearly dropped his fork. Then he narrowed his eyes. “Did you hurt her?”

“I would never!” Becky declared, but her indignation was swallowed by her ever-growing worry for Anya. “I wonder why Anya looks miserable… she won’t even have lunch with me…”

Damian’s eyes widened. “She’s not eating with you? Is she eating with someone else?”

They quickly scanned the cafeteria, but Anya’s signature pink hair was nowhere to be seen. Damian abruptly stood up. “I’m going to find her,” he proclaimed.

In a rare moment of solidarity, Becky stood up too. “I’m coming with you!”

“Me too!”

“Oy, Boss man, wait up!”

And so the four Cecile hall kids went on a mission to find Anya Forger. Little did they know Anya was also on a mission herself.

Anya wandered the corridors of Eden Academy. Most students were at the cafeteria, so the corridors were rather empty. This was helpful to Anya, because it meant there would be less thoughts for her to sort through. Anya’s stomach growled, but she steadfastly ignored it.

Several people’s thoughts popped up around a corner, and Anya hurried there. She didn’t expect to be suddenly thrown against a wall. A yelp tore from her lips. Pain erupted from the back of her head.

“So sorry, Miss! I didn’t realize you were a student!”

Anya stared at the gigantic, beefy man in front of her. He was wearing a suit like Pa, but he looked waaay less handsome than Pa. Next to him were more beefy men in suits. Anya’s heart stilled. Were these Damian’s killers?

“That was poor judgement, Ralph. I didn’t hire you to go around throwing little kids.”

“I apologize, Master Desmond!”

Desmond? Anya frantically turned to look. A figure was crouched in front of her. He could best be described as a taller, meaner-looking, infinitely scarier version of Damian. His hair was the same brown as Damian’s, but his eyes were an icy blue that sliced into Anya’s soul. This had to be Demetrius Desmond, Damian’s older brother. Anya gulped.

“She looks fragile,” Demetrius thought. “It would be annoying if she got hurt and tried to sue us. We’ll win the lawsuit, of course, but it won’t look good for us.”

Anya’s eyes darted towards the men in suits. These had to be Demetrius’ bodyguards. Their grim expressions terrified Anya, and she could hardly breathe. She tried to read their thoughts, in particular the one who’d thrown her. The guy named Ralph was shifting on his feet nervously. “I understand I should not have hurt the girl, but people are trying to kill Demetrius, so I have to be extra alert!”

So apparently, bad people were trying to kill both of the Desmond brothers. But why did the elder have seven bodyguards, and the younger none? Anya did not understand at all.

“I apologize for the rash actions of my bodyguard,” Demetrius drawled. Despite his words, Anya felt a chill down her spine. Demetrius stood up and casually brushed dust off his Imperial Scholar’s robe. “Let’s get going,” Demetrius said airily. “I’m not going to be late to anything, even if it’s a visit to a museum I’ve been to twenty times.”

Anya finally found her tongue. “Wait! Mister Demetrius! Damian’s gonna—”

She was too late. The whole party of bodyguards and Imperial Scholar had swiftly moved away. She helplessly watched as they all boarded a bus.

Stupid, stupid Anya! Anya screamed at herself. You should’ve asked for a bodyguard! That way Damian can be safe! Why, why did you have to panic—

Hot, fat tears dribbled down her cheeks. Anya hastily fished out Damian’s handkerchief and wiped her face with it.

Stop crying! You’re the daughter of a spy and an assassin! It’s not over yet!

Anya shakily stood up, and continued her never-ending chore of roaming the corridors.

In the end, Anya couldn’t find the concealed killer, and none of the Cecile hall kids found Anya. She dragged herself back to her classroom and plopped down. Now she was exhausted and hungry. How could she fight the bad guys with such a weak body?

“Anya! Where have you been?”

Anya spun to see an anxious Becky next to her. “Just walking around,” she said, because that was technically the truth. 

Becky shoved a sandwich wrapped with paper in her hands. “You didn’t get to eat, right? So take this, Anya. E-even if you aren’t gonna tell me what’s wrong, I’ll always support you!” Becky cried out.

Despite the circumstances, Anya’s heart warmed. She was so grateful to have such a caring best friend. “Thank you, Becky,” she mumbled.

The rest of the afternoon sped by without any interruptions. Damian remained clueless to his impending doom, and Anya’s worry grew with every second. It was highly possible that they would carry out the assassination attempt at school since they were tracking Damian’s every move. She knew Damian didn’t have bodyguards, and apparently WISE hadn’t sent anyone to keep an eye on him (wasn’t Damian integral to world peace? Did WISE not care at all?).

“Anya? Anya!”

Anya blinked. Damian was snapping his fingers in front of her. “School’s over,” he told her.

“Oh.” Anya glanced outside the window. The sky was still fairly bright, which meant she had roughly an hour before sunset. She stood up, but her body suddenly started shaking and her knees felt like jelly. She placed her hands on her desk to support her,

Damian frowned. “Have you eaten the sandwich Becky gave you?”

“The sandwich? O-oh.” Anya was so stressed that she didn’t eat, and her lack of blood sugar was punishing her. 

Anya didn’t like how quiet and enclosed the classroom was. If anyone came in, they wouldn’t be able to escape. “Let’s go outside,” she said.

“If you say so.”

Without the usual crowd of Eden students, it became much easier to read thoughts. However, that just meant Damian’s thoughts were more noticeable than usual.

“Dammit, she’s seriously freaking me out! Anya’s never been like this before! And why is she asking me for help? I can’t let her down!”

Anya ended up choosing a quiet spot in a corridor. There were multiple escape routes, and they weren’t near the windows (nobody could see them from outside). “Stay with me, Damian,” she whispered.

“Sure,” he said at the same time he thought “always”.

Damian awkwardly coughed. “So… are you going to tell me about the bad thing? Or would you rather not talk about it?”

Anya bit into her sandwich. “... I’ll explain later.” Anya was too tired to lie, yet she knew she could never tell anyone her secret ability. “Hey, have you seen suspicious people lately?”

Damian wrinkled his nose. “Suspicious people?”

Anya shrugged. “Like, people trailing you. People following you. People staring at you. People acting weirdly.”

“The only one who’s weird is you,” Damian thought, but he truthfully replied, “No.”

“Your older brother has bodyguards, right?”

“How did you—”

“I saw him.”

“Oh.” A strange expression fell on Damian’s face. “Yeah, he does. Because he’s an Imperial Scholar and Father’s heir and all that important stuff.”

Anya was glad Damian couldn’t read minds, because all Anya could think of was “why does no one seem to care about Damian?”. Sure, he was the second son, but he was still a person who deserved protection. Ice crept over Anya’s heart. Damian’s father, as evil as he might be, should be concerned for Damian, right? Wasn’t that a parent’s basic responsibility?

“... You look really upset by that.”

Anya jolted. Maybe Damian could read minds after all! But when she stared at Damian, stunned, his face grew red. “Y-your face is just really easy to read, dummy!” He snapped. 

Anya hastily wiped crumbs from her face. “It’s nothing. I-I’m just having a bad day.” Her nose suddenly felt tight and wet. 

To distract herself, Anya furiously munched on her sandwich. Damian subtly shifted closer until their arms were pressing against each other, his body warmth comforting her. The quiet seconds stretched on, but they didn’t feel awkward at all. Just heavy.

“It’s fine,” Damian lightly uttered as if he knew Anya was still troubled. “I know Father won’t pay me any attention until I become an Imperial Scholar. It’s how it’s always been.” 

“But that’s sad,” Anya spoke up instinctively. She realized she might have been too blunt, so she quietly added, “At least it makes me sad.”

Damian frowned. “Anya, I don’t want your pity. Worry about yourself first.”

And Anya stared at him, the prideful Damian Desmond who always acted like he was smart and cool, but in reality, he was just desperately covering up his insecurity. Anya knew first-hand how negelient families could be, and what sort of damage they could inflict on their children. She, too, had been tossed aside and ignored until Pa swung by. Although the Forger family was, well, a forgery, at least they all genuinely cared for each other. And Anya didn’t think Damian had that.

That was why Anya had to be there for Damian.

Anya stood up, brushed dust off her dress, and moved to the nearest window. “Anya?” Damian asked, confused.

“Shh. Stay there.” Anya’s green eyes were oddly bright in the shadows, and she suddenly seemed older than she was. “No matter what happens, don’t panic. I’ll protect you.”

Damian was having a very confusing day. First, Anya came to school looking like someone had died. Then, she asked him of all people to stay with her (which would be flattering if he wasn’t so worried). And then she asked him about Demetrius and Father. Her expression was so miserable Damian could barely look at her. Annoyance spiked in his heart. He hated how she was looking at him like he was a poor kid who needed help. Dammit, he didn’t want pity from a stupid commoner! 

“Seriously, what’s going on?!” He burst out.

Anya suddenly slapped her hand on his mouth. Damian automatically jerked away, his cheeks warming up. “Quiet!” Anya hissed.

Damian blinked, and then—

A gunshot.

The glass window shattered before his eyes. Damian screamed, but the sound was muffled by Anya’s hand. Damian was so stunned, he didn’t move until Anya yanked on his arm. 

“RUN!” She screamed in a panic.

Damian could only follow. Anya was a surprisingly swift runner, and she dragged him through rooms and corridors. “People are trying to kill you!” She panted.

Damian’s blood froze and horror swept over him like a current. People wanted to kill him? Because of Father? So he was going to die? B-but-

“Don’t panic!” Anya cried out. “I-I’ll find somewhere safe!”

Anya’s tiny hand was slicked with sweat, and Damian desperately held on. He focused on Anya’s pink hair in front of him. His adrenaline kicked in and he ran faster than ever, until his speed surpassed Anya and he was pulling her along. Damian couldn’t think, he couldn’t feel, he couldn’t hear the pounding of their footsteps. Useless tears leaked from his eyes, and he stubbornly shook his head. Why was it getting harder to breathe?

“Don’t go there!” Anya hollered.

Too late. Damian spun around a corner and Anya’s hand broke free. Damian could only watch as a masked man picked up Anya and carelessly hurled her against a wall. He barely had time to scream before the man charged towards him, the silver glint of a knife clearly visible. Damian squeezed his eyes shut and prepared himself for a painful, bloody death.

—Except that never came.

CRASH!

For the second time that afternoon, a glass window shattered. But instead of a bullet, a man crash-landed. He swung his fist at the masked man and swiftly knocked him out. Although Damian wasn’t hurt, his limbs felt like they were underwater and he couldn’t speak, let alone move. Then the man hurried towards Anya’s limp body and picked her up tenderly. It was only then that the man spared Damian a glance. Damian recognized the man instantly.

… Mister Forger?

Chapter Text

An urgent mission from WISE had Loid leave the house at 6am, and he had to hurriedly write a note to his wife and daughter. According to the intel WISE collected, the Desmonds’ rivals were planning to assassinate Demetrius. Of course, Loid had to stop that because if Demetrius died, his target Donovan Desmond would no longer appear at Imperial Scholar gatherings. (And personally, Loid loathed it when the lives of innocent people were threatened. Demetrius was merely sixteen and wasn’t even out of Eden Academy.)

From what WISE gathered, the Desmond family seemed to be aware of the danger they were in, hence they hired bodyguards for Demetrius. Still, it didn’t hurt to be careful. Demetrius and his class would visit a museum today, and it was Loid’s mission to make sure the museum was safe. 

So Loid swept through the museum, removed enemy bugs, planted bugs of his own, knocked a few people out, broke into secret passageways behind paintings, interrogated captured assassins- just typical spy stuff. Loid completed his mission easily- almost too easily. Loid frowned and instinctively knew something was up. Things were never that simple.

So as a precaution, Loid checked Damian’s schedule. According to intel from Franky, Damian had a painting class at the park. Without waiting for orders from WISE, Loid sped to the park.

As Loid feared, snipers were stationed with their guns pointing towards the park. He swiftly took them out, but obviously, that wasn’t enough. It was likely the enemy was stalking Damian. WISE and the Desmonds hadn’t expected the (often overlooked) second son to be targeted as well, which was why they didn’t send people to keep an eye on Damian. They were unprepared, plus Damian didn’t have a single bodyguard. If the assassins struck, unlike Demetrius, no one would be there to protect Damian.

So of course Loid rushed to Eden Academy as quickly as he could. And thankfully, he arrived just in time to stop Damian’s assassin. But all thoughts of the Desmond brothers left his mind when he saw a too-familiar figure slumped on the ground.

“Anya!”

His heart leaping in his throat, Loid gently picked his daughter up. He quickly checked her body for wounds. She had a nasty blow to her head, plus the shattered glass gave her shallow scratches, but otherwise, she was alive and breathing. Loid’s composure as a spy started to crack. Dammit, he wasn’t supposed to feel this anxious and terrified for his fake daughter!

His train of thought was broken by the sound of a child crying. Damian Desmond’s cheeks were red and puffy as he sobbed uncontrollably. Something tugged on Loid’s heartstrings. If there was one thing Loid couldn’t stand, it was children crying.

“I’m counting on you to deal with the rest of them,” Loid murmured in his intercom. For that moment, Loid wasn’t a spy. He was just the concerned parent of Damian’s classmate.

“I don’t wanna die!” Damian wailed, tears staining his uniform. “A-and Anya’s dead because of me!”

Loid casually stepped over the unconscious body of Damian’s assassin and crouched in front of Damian. “Hey, hey, deep breaths, Damian,” he said in a soothing voice. “You’re not going to die. Your Papa hired people to take care of them!”

Snot was dripping out of Damian’s nose in a very undignified manner, but Damian was as snappy as ever. “LIAR!” He snarled at Loid. “Father doesn’t care about me!”

Loid internally winced, but he put on a reassuring smile. “And Anya’s not dead, she’s just unconscious. It’s going to be okay, just believe me.”

Damian tried to reply, but more tears just poured down his cheeks. Loid offered him a hand which he gingerly took. With a child in Loid’s arms, and another child clutching his hand, they made their way to the nurse’s office.

Damian sat slouched on a chair outside the nurse’s office. Lots of adults were hurrying around and asking him and Loid questions, but Damian was still in shock and he could barely reply. He tuned out Loid’s words and continued to stare at his feet.

People were trying to kill him. Damian would’ve actually died if he hadn’t been extremely lucky. He surprisingly sustained no injuries, unlike Anya. Anya was unconscious, but according to the nurse, she would be okay. But that did not stop Damian from worrying about her; in fact, his concern just increased tenfold.

Damian didn’t know how much time passed. All he knew was that Jeeves came by to check on him and said Demetrius couldn’t come for safety reasons, but sent half of his bodyguards to Damian. (Damian wasn’t even going to ask about Father. That man never cared.) Damian heard Loid call Anya’s mother, the police came by to search for evidence, and everything blurred into a horrible mess. Jeeves had to leave to do some important adult things, the bodyguards were checking Eden for more assassins, and suddenly it was just Damian and Loid sitting side by side outside the nurse’s office. 

Loid warmly smiled at Damian. “Here, have some biscuits, you must be famished.”

Damian wordlessly took the biscuits and started chewing them. He used to look down on Anya’s dad because he was a commoner and a “feelings” doctor, but the man was gentle and kind and instantly made Damian feel at ease. Guilt seeped into Damian’s heart. “Not sure if I said it already, but thank you for saving my life, Pops.”

Loid lightly laughed. “You’re welcome. I was just passing by, honestly. I was quite freaked out as well.”

“… Anya’s gonna be fine, right?”

“You know how she is; she’ll bounce back.” Loid sighed. “And besides, if anything serious happened to her, as her father I would be a lot more panicked.”

Damian swallowed. He could feel a lump in his throat. “You would?”

“Why of course! That’s because I love her very much.” Loid had a soft smile on his face, and when he said it, it seemed like he was saying it to himself instead of Damian. 

Damian brushed crumbs off his face, then he spoke. “… I wish my father was like you, Mr Forger.”

There was a pause.

“I wish Father would break through windows to save me from the bad guys,” Damian sniffed. “I wish he would protect me. I wish he would notice me. B-but now, I literally could’ve died and he won’t care at all.” He hastily wiped his tears with the back of his hand. “He doesn’t care about me. He won’t come to visit me. I’m his son and he doesn’t care at all.”

Damian’s own bluntness surprised him. His feelings had been brewing for a good while, but he’d never completely let them out. It was cathartic in a way, but also a tinge embarrassing. He’d just revealed his family problems and daddy issues to a stranger. Maybe that was the effect “mind doctors” had on people. 

Loid patted Damian’s shoulder. “That sounds terrible,” he uttered softly. “No one should go through that. No one deserves to feel abandoned.”

Damian wiped a stray tear from his eye. “... Father won’t pay any attention to me until I become an Imperial Scholar. That’s- that’s what I’ve always been taught.”

“... To be frank, I don’t think your father is a good parent,” Loid said. Damian stiffened and automatically prepared to jump to his father’s defence. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. The mentality Damian had about his father had begun to unravel long ago, and Loid’s words were truly breaking it to pieces.

Loid paused as if to work out how to explain it to Damian. “From my own experience, being a parent is to… provide unconditional love to the child. You wouldn’t love a child just because they’re smart or good at sports. Parents should love their children no matter what and support them when they’re sad.”

Loid turned to Damian and leaned down conspiratorially as if he was revealing a secret. “Y’know, my… I had high expectations for Anya. We too wanted her to become an Imperial Scholar as quickly as possible. There was a time when I forced Anya to study because I was so worried about her grades. You know how they are,” he said with a laugh.

Despite the circumstances, Damian managed to laugh as well. Maybe that was Loid’s intention. To make him smile.

“I was frustrated with Anya. Angry, even. There were times when I wanted to… give up.” Loid’s eyes became clouded. “But I learned I can’t push all these expectations on her. I can’t demand achievements from her. Anya struggles in class, and she’s not physically the strongest, but I love her all the same. Because she’s my daughter. And you deserve that love too, Damian.”

Damian bit his lip and swallowed the lump in his throat. “Man, I wish you were my father,” he said without thinking. 

“Well, you already call me Pops, and you’re friends with Anya, so maybe in the future.”

It took Damian three seconds to realize he had implied Loid being his father-in-law. He choked on his biscuit. Loid patted his back. Damian choked even more.

“Anyways, even if you don’t feel your parents’ care, I know lots of people love you. The teachers I talked to were very worried about you. And of course Anya was concerned, wasn’t she?”

Damian flushed. “Yeah… I guess…”

He thought about Anya’s worried face that squeezed his heart. She was the one who dragged him away from danger. She got hurt because of him. Anya cared about him… that was a nice thing to think about…

Damian swallowed. “Well. Pops. Uh. Do you mind if I ask you a question?”

“Sure thing. Just don’t ask for Anya’s hand in marriage.”

Damian choked again. “I WASN’T GOING TO-”

Loid idly tapped his chin. “Maybe I’ll actually accept on the condition Anya can play at your house-”

“IT’S- IT’S NOT LIKE I WANT TO MARRY HER! TOTALLY NOT!”

“Just kidding,” Loid said casually with a cheerful smirk. “I wanted to make you smile, Damian,” he added in a more serious tone.

Loid actually made Damian smile, but Damian ignored his pink cheeks and the thumping of his heart. “A-anyways, you’re a feelings doctor, Mr Forger?”

“Yep.”

Damian awkwardly twisted his fingers. “Then… you can help me with my feelings, right?”

“Well, that is my job.”

“Alright. So.” 

This was harder than Damian had anticipated. But oh well, he’d already said too much about himself in front of Anya’s father. He might as well talk more.

“Is it normal if I… sometimes hate my brother?”

Damian didn’t dare to look at Loid’s expression. His eyes were trained on the ground and his shoulders were stiff and slouched. “I-I mean, it’s not like he’s done anything bad to me!” He hastily added. “He never hits me! He buys me toys and candy! He talks about me to Father! It’s- it’s just… he’s too good,” Damian lamented. “He’s the heir. He’s an Imperial Scholar. He’s so cool and smart and always knows what to do. And I’m just the second son. It feels like Demetrius stole all of Father’s love. I have to exceed Demetrius so Father would notice me, but…” He clenched his fist. “It’s so damn hard! Because Demetrius is literally perfect!”

Hot tears were running down Damian’s cheeks, but he paid no heed. “Demetrius can play five instruments! He knows four languages! I’m not smart enough to do that!” He screamed. “I’ll never be good enough! And it’s all because of my stupid older brother!”

Damian shakily gulped. “I know this is bad of me, but sometimes… I wish Demetrius wasn’t here,” he whispered. “So people would stop comparing us. And I can finally breathe. B-but that’s a terrible thing to think because he’s my brother…”

Damian wiped his face with his sleeves (he’d given his handkerchief to Anya) and sat there sniffling. “... I’m a horrible person, aren’t I?” He choked out with a weak laugh.

“No you’re not!” Loid offered Damian his own handkerchief. “You’re not horrible. If anything, it’s extremely valid to think that way. Living with such harsh expectations… that’s cruel. Feeling jealous is perfectly normal. But you don’t want anything bad to actually happen to your brother, right?”

Damian didn’t even pause to think. He shook his head vehemently. “No!” He screeched out. “I-if he got killed today, I don’t know h-how I’ll—“

Loid patted Damian’s back in a comforting way. “You and your brother are safe, I promise you.”

Damian could feel tears rise to his eyes again. He tried to speak more, but he just choked out sobs. He snuggled into Loid’s side and the two stayed there quietly. Damian was sure he got biscuit crumbs all over Loid’s clothes, but it didn’t seem like he cared. 

“… Hey Pops,” Damian eventually said. “You’re a good guy.”

A small smile quirked on Loid’s lips. “I try to be.”

Damian remembered how panicked Anya looked at school. He had never seen her this miserable and afraid. He still had no idea why Anya was behaving like that, and although he trusted Anya’s dad, he wasn’t going to betray her privacy. Maybe Anya was keeping secrets from her parents for good. Maybe she wasn’t. Either way, it wasn’t really Damian’s business.

“You said you love Anya a lot.”

“I do.”

Damian swallowed. It felt patronising to tell Loid to take care of his daughter when he knew he had been taking good care of her (and her friends too). His face grew hot. “J-just talk to her more, okay? Let her know she’s not alone or something!”

Now, Loid looked puzzled, then worried. “Did something happen to her at school? (Other than the obvious assassination attempt.)”

Damian tried very hard to lie. (He liked to think he was a good liar because he often said Anya was ugly when he thought she was the cutest person in the world.) “Uhhh, her grades! Science! Geography! S-she wants to become an Imperial Scholar and she’s stressed about her grades!” Damian furiously nodded like he made perfect sense. 

Fortunately, Loid seemed to accept it. “Ahh, that’s true… I should talk to her about it.”

A little while later, Anya’s mother came. She was a rather pretty woman with long black hair (Damian had a vague realisation that Anya looked like neither of her parents). Her and Loid started discussing in hushed voices, evidently very concerned for their daughter. Damian looked away. Yet another reminder that his parents didn’t care. 

The door to the nurse’s office opened, and all three of them turned to look. “Mr and Mrs Forger, Anya is awake!” The nurse announced.

It felt like a huge stone was removed from Damian’s chest. Anya was awake! She was fine! She wasn’t dead! Except he couldn’t see her because he obviously wasn’t family. He played with his fingers to get rid of his nervous energy. 

Damian watched as Anya’s parents hurried inside the office. The door shut with a click. And Damian was back to being alone. 

But before Damian could wallow in his misery any longer, the door opened again. Damian blearily blinked at the sliver of golden light from the door. “Mr Desmond! The young Miss Forger wishes to see you!”

Damian stood up so quickly he nearly fell down. Anya wanted to see him? He didn’t expect that! Ignoring how stiff his legs were from sitting, he dashed into the office. This time, he tripped and fell for real— until Loid caught him. 

“Watch your step!”

Damian’s face grew hot again, but his thoughts were interrupted by a small, weak chuckle. 

“Heh. Sy-on boy is alive.”

Damian turned to see Anya lying on the bed that was too big for her. Her face was almost as pale as the sheets around her. Despite that, that cheeky glint was still present in her green eyes. Anya might be tired, but she didn’t look as… terrified as she did earlier.

“Y-you’re alive too,” Damian replied stupidly. “I-I was… really scared.” His fingers started to sweat. Loid gently nudged him towards Anya’s bed, and Damian struggled not to trip. “I’m really happy you’re awake now…”

The tips of Damian’s ears were blushing. His eyes dared to dart towards Anya. Her left cheek was slightly scratched and a band-aid was plastered over the wound. The nurse said she had a bump on her head from falling. Seeing an injured Anya broke Damian’s heart. He clenched his fists.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“I-I couldn’t protect you!” Damian stammered out. His head was bowed and he desperately tried to stop his eyes from leaking. “I got you into this mess! You got hurt instead of me! A-and I couldn’t do anything but watch! It was your dad who saved us! And I promised I would protect you!”

When Damian looked up again, to his greatest shock, Anya was also sniffling. Damian wanted to sink into the floor and die (okay, maybe not literally). Had he said something wrong? Was she so upset by his incompetence? Was she going to leave school and never come back because Eden was clearly so dangerous? Did she hate him? How could he bear it when he liked her so much?

“Don’t cry!” Anya blubbed out. “If you cry then I’ll also cry!”

“Okay!” Damian gave a huge sniff. “Sorry for crying!”

“Don’t say you’re sorry!” Anya wailed, her tone gaining a desperate edge. “Or else I’ll cry even more!”

Well, at least Anya’s typical logic was back. Loid and Yor comforted the crying children, but unfortunately the headmaster wanted to speak to them. Damian was beginning to feel a little spacey, and his head was slightly hurting from dehydration (probably because he was crying so much). He couldn’t remember what was happening until he was aware of the silence in the room. Anya’s parents had left. He’d managed to stop crying, but his eyes were still puffy. He cleared his throat and hoped his voice wouldn’t come out as a croak. 

“Anya?”

“Hmm?”

Damian stared into Anya’s eyes. “Thank you for saving my life.” His tone was sincere and serious. He wasn’t aware how a little girl like her had done it, but she did. Anya had done what many bodyguards couldn’t. He was meant to protect her, but she ended up protecting him… and he was honestly very thankful for that. Anya never failed to amaze him.

“Hey…” Anya began, her voice wavering. “I’m sorry too. I should’ve done a better job.”

Damian blinked. “B-but you literally saved me. The gunshot… I would’ve been toast…”

Anya shook her head. “It wasn’t about- never mind.”

It was back again. That look of misery. Damian’s heart was crushed into pieces again. Automatically, he stretched out a hand towards her cheek. Anya flushed (aww, cutie). “What are you doing?” She squeaked.

“Checking your injuries,” he replied, his solemn eyes focused on her. His fingers grazed her cheek. “A-and I don’t like you being sad…”

There was a pause. Damian dropped his hand. “By the way,” he started, his voice low, “you were worried about something at school? Do you still want to talk about it?”

“Oh… about that…”

Anya shifted in her bed. Her eyes darted across the room as if she was making up her mind. Damian didn’t want to pressure her, so he just stared at the hand that just touched her cheek. His heart was thumping.

I’m worried! On top of whatever that was making her sad, she almost got killed! And she’s also sad because I’m sad (for whatever reason)! I just want to make her feel better! And make her smile come back! Because she’s precious to me!! And-

His train of thought skidded to a halt when he noticed Anya was staring at him. Her eyes were big and round, and her cheeks were dusted with faint pink. 

“Okay then. I’ll tell you.” She took a deep, exaggerated breath. Then she glanced at him conspiratorially. “You’ll think I’m crazy. But you can’t tell anybody. Not even my Pa and Ma. And especially not your evil boss father.”

Damian was too distracted by the fact that Anya was letting him into a secret to care that she just called his dad an “evil boss”. “I give my word,” he replied. 

Anya was silent for a few moments. Then-

“I had a bad dream this morning.”

Damian tilted his head.

“I-I dreamed you were dead,” Anya confessed. “You were dead… in the park. I-it was a dream but it felt so real. I felt like it could be real. So I knew I had to stop it.”

Damian was skeptical. “Did you have a premonition? Can you see the future?”

“Just… sometimes? Maybe?”

Damian stared at Anya. Anya stared at Damian. Damian opened his mouth.

“I’m telling the truth, you know.” Anya’s expression was open and honest. Damian could read her face quite well, and he knew when she was joking. This time, she was not. 

What Anya was saying defied all logic. Superpowers didn’t exist. Premonitions were just myths from fairy tales and it was stupid to believe in them. Yet, Damian instinctively trusted Anya. For some weird reason. 

Today, Damian learned that there were assassins coming after him and his brother. He nearly died. Anya nearly died. He admitted to Anya’s dad that he sometimes hated his brother. Damian could not handle anything more.

“Okay,” he said, simply too exhausted to even freak out. “I-I’m not even going to ask. Too much stuff going on. I believe you.” 

Anya sat up a little straighter. Now she looked strangely vulnerable. “Thank you.”

Damian’s mind was running a thousand miles a minute, but somehow all he could focus on was how apparently Anya had this secret superpower that her parents didn’t know about, and she was carrying the burden of saving him. And she literally saw that he would die, and somehow changed his fate. How stressed was she when she was tasked with saving another person? No wonder she came to school looking like someone had died. Because in the future she saw, he died. 

“Anya, I still have many questions,” he began slowly, “but I’m saving those for another day. All I want you to know is,” he reached out a hand and firmly grasped hers, “if you ever get any of those bad dreams, and you need help saving somebody, just… find someone.”

He was staring at her again, his eyes filled with intensity. “I know you’re probably keeping this a secret from everybody, so… you can find me if you like. I’ll help you. I’ll shoulder the burden with you. Even if you can’t tell your parents. Even if you can’t tell Becky.”

Anya was looking oddly flustered again.

“Promise me you won’t do this alone. This is too much for a single person to bear.”

“I promise.”

“Good. And don’t you worry, your secret’s safe with me. I won’t tell a single soul,” Damian vowed.

Anya grinned. “Thanks, Sy-on boy! It’s actually quite nice to have someone who…” Anya looked to the side, “knows my secret…”

And so they sat there quietly, their minds recovering from all that they experienced today. Damian was starting to feel sleepy, and his mind began to wander. If Anya can see the future, I wonder what happens to me… or what happens to her… what if we’re married? That’s a future I want to see…

Next to a drowsy Damian, Anya suddenly jolted, a warm twist in her heart.

Chapter Text

But I can see us lost in the memory

August slipped away into a moment in time

'Cause it was never mine

They’re sitting side by side under their favourite tree, fingers lightly brushing past each other. Anya’s hair reaches her back now, and strands of her pink hair flutter in the breeze. Damian’s finger idly twirls around a lock of her hair and holds it close. Sunlight filters through the leaves and casts golden coins on the grass. It’s a quiet summer afternoon, and for a few hours, they can pretend nothing else exists except for the two of them. No expectations to fulfil. No past to haunt them, no future to chase. It’s a quiet afternoon, and it’s their afternoon.

Anya lays her head on Damian’s shoulder. “Hey, Sy-on boy, what are you thinking about?”

He snorts. “What? Don’t you have mind reading skills?”

Anya laughs, and her breath hits Damian’s neck. “You know I usually tune them out. Besides, I like to hear it from you.”

Damian drops the lock of hair he was playing with. “Just thinking about my future, I guess.”

“Your future wife isn’t that bad.”

“I know! She’s friendly, smart, and… bearable. But she doesn’t have extraordinarily poor manners. She doesn’t wear a cheeky grin. She doesn’t have that spark of energy in her. She’s not… you.”

Damian swallows. He’s been in love with the same girl for twelve years, been in a relationship with her for four, and yet, it isn’t meant to be. After his father was rightfully sent to jail (thanks to Anya’s parents), the entire Desmond family was flung into a crisis. Demetrius, who was already married (an arranged marriage, of course) scrambled to repair their family’s reputation. Of course, Damian played the part of the poor, confused, but obedient younger son. His grades never slipped. He never got into any controversies. He was not as impressive as his older brother, but he was still a respected member of the upper class. 

Too bad his heart was stolen by a commoner girl.

So his relatives suggested that he marry a girl of his standing. She’s the daughter of a CEO, and her family is influential enough to bring the Desmond family up again. Their union will be beneficial for everyone, especially for the fallen Desmonds. Damian should be grateful, really, they muttered. That someone of his class wants to marry him.

But from the moment they met, he knew he could never love her. And she told him she knew she could never love him. A marriage without any love… ironic that his girlfriend’s parents were in a fake marriage but are genuinely in love.

“It could be worse” are the only words Damian can repeat to himself.

He knows where Anya is going. She’s going to become a spy like her dad. Damian’s going to study at Berlint University along with his wife. They’ll part ways and leave Eden Academy and their glory days behind.

“You know,” Damian says slowly as he savours the weight of Anya against his shoulder, “If I were a little more selfish, I would’ve ran away with you.”

Maybe he would, if he was thirteen and foolish and didn’t know how to make girls happy. But he has his family to think about. And he doesn’t want Anya to be tainted by his bloodline. Anya is bright and painfully witty and has a future outside of being another Mrs Desmond. 

“We could run away,” Anya echoes. “We’ll live in the woods, we’ll adopt a dog, I’ll hunt for food, you’ll build our house. We’ll let Pa and Ma come over for the weekends.”

Damian laughs. “I’ll bake your favourite pastries every day, and you’ll wash my hair and insult all my clothing choices.”

...They were Eden’s longtime sweethearts. When they finally got together, everybody cheered like it was their marriage. The teachers had watched them grow from when she was a snarky girl with poor manners and he was an arrogant fool who didn’t know how to make friends. They laughed, they quarrelled, they fought (both physically and verbally), they made up. Despite their apparent mutual dislike, they were inseparable. They bantered in libraries, ate together in the cafeteria, and hung out during holidays. She gave him her scarf to wear. He gave her his cloak. Their hands brushed past each other in the corridors. Teachers scolded them for passing notes in class. He held her hand when her parents fought. She kissed his cheek when he asked for a dance at prom. She stole his heart and he stole hers. 

Anya smirks at him, and it’s such a familiar yet irritating (and lovable) smirk. “Well, your fashion tastes are questionable.”

He flushes hotly and pokes her cheek. “Oy! Like you’re any better!”

They engage in a poke battle for a while, then Anya wraps her arms around Damian’s neck. She pulls him down and kisses him, as light as the flap of a butterfly’s wings. Damian reflectively jerks away, his face burning like the Christmas bonfire they’d been to when he was twelve and she was eleven. Anya’s blushing too, but she’s more elegant than he is. Damian, for some reason, is still the bumbling fool he was ever since he was six. 

Surprisingly, they don’t kiss or touch each other a lot. Their kisses are quick, chaste, as if they’re afraid their relationship will be snatched away in an instant. They’ve gone through so much that normal children don’t go through- deaths, betrayals, trauma- yet they still retain that childlike innocence when it comes to romance. 

… Funny. When they’re with each other, it’s like they revert back to their childhood days. Anya makes Damian lose his temper like he never does with other people. Damian makes Anya stick out her tongue and turn her nose up like she’s a four year old kid. They fling childish insults (“Dummy!” “Jerk!”) at each other to the point Becky feels second hand embarrassment. Anya smirks, Damian blushes, and life goes on.

Until it didn’t.

Things came crashing down one by one, secrets were revealed, everything was a mess. It was a miserable period, but they survived and emerged stronger than ever. And for just a while, nobody and nothing could touch them.

Damian gazes at Anya’s face. He’s memorized every scar, every freckle, the way her eyes shine forest green in the sunlight, the way her lips quirk up when she’s excited. But what he’ll miss the most is the fondness and love in her eyes.

“Love is a curious thing,” Anya says. She takes Damian’s hand and starts tracing senseless shapes on his palm. “You were one of the first who weren't obliged to care for me, but did anyway.” She pauses, and when she speaks again, there’s a heavy edge to her voice. “When Pa and Ma got married, it was their responsibility to care for their fake child. Sure, they chose to be with me, and they were quite fond of me, but they were my parents. They're supposed to love me.”

“But then you came along!” Her tone is lighter and more cheerful now. “Mister Damian Desmond, who was ready to do amazing things at school and impress his father. Then a girl cries in front of him aaaand he’s never the same.”

“You weren’t obliged to love me. You weren’t family, fake or not. You weren’t an agent who wanted Operation Strix to succeed. You had no ties to me. You could’ve spent the rest of your years ignoring me and it wouldn’t have mattered.”

“But I didn’t.” And Damian’s voice is so soft, so soft.

“You were mean to me, but I knew you thought otherwise. That’s why I put up with you even when you were a jerk. You thought I was cute. Kind. Stupid, but lovably so. And brave. And so many things you weren’t. You loved me before you knew what love was. Before I knew what love was.”

Anya holds his hand. She’s warm, so warm. “... You’re important to me, Damian.”

Damian parts his lips. He has so many emotions he wants to express, but they’re beyond what he can say. He ends up with, “You’re important to me too.”

They sit in silence for a while, then he turns to her. He catches Anya’s tear with his finger. “Don’t cry, it’s not like I’ll be gone forever.” He makes a feeble attempt at a joke.

Anya sniffs, and buries her face in Damian’s shoulder. “I don’t care about anything else. I don’t care about the world. You’ll always be my Sy-on boy. The stupid kid who caught a ball for me because he didn’t want to see me hurt.”

Damian presses a kiss to Anya’s forehead. “I’m still the same,” he mumbles against her skin. “Still yours.”

… He’s eighteen and she’s seventeen, but they foolishly cling onto each other, hoping for just a bit more time.

Back when I was living for the hope of it

For the hope of it all

For the hope of it all...

Chapter Text

The robe of an Imperial Scholar was highly sought after, not only because it was a display of high status, it was also extremely well made. Intricate patterns woven with gold thread lined the robe, and each Imperial Scholar’s name was painstakingly stitched on the hem in neat cursive. The inside of the robe was lined with soft red velvet of the highest quality, and it was excellent at retaining warmth. While the rest of Eden students shivered in the winter, Imperial Scholars could stay warm and be classy at the same time. 

As the first (and only!) Imperial Scholar of his year, Damian Desmond knew he had to live up to expectations. Thus, he dedicated a lot of his free time to studying in the library. He slipped into his favourite corner of the library, propped up a book on the table, and started reading. Hours passed, and Damian’s eyes started to feel dry. He rubbed them and tried to focus on his book again to no avail. Why was Classical Language required when it was so outdated and boring? Classical Language was Damian’s worst subject, and he never got the hang of it even after years of studying. 

“Heh, y’know, you look pretty cool when you’re studying seriously,” came an airy voice. Damian jumped, but thankfully by now he’d learned not to drop his book. “Anya! How did you find me?”

Anya casually slid into the seat next to Damian and tapped Damian’s nose. “I always know how to find you, Sy-on boy.”

Damian blushed because she was right. Even though they were in different classes, she always managed to bump into him in the corridors. They talked surprisingly often outside of school (probably because they made use of each and every opportunity). 

“It’s so cold outside,” Anya complained as she swung her legs. She fiddled with her scarf around her neck. “I thought the library would be warmer, and it is, but not much.”

“This library’s rather old, so it’s not good at keeping in the heat,” Damian absentmindedly answered. “Good thing I have my robe though.”

“Ohh, of course,” Anya drawled. “You’re an Imperial Scholar! You get to have bragging rights!” She leaned towards the books Damian was reading. “What’s this? Classical Language?”

Damian tiredly flipped a page. “Yup, it’s your best subject. And naturally it’s my worst subject.”

Anya was about to reply, but she abruptly sneezed. Damian took her in- messy pink hair, red nose, Eden uniform wet with snow. He cleared his throat. “Come here.”

Anya blinked, confused. She stared at Damian as if she was figuring out what he was thinking, then she moved and sat on Damian’s lap. Damian wrapped his robe around her with just a hint of possessiveness. “There. Now you’re not cold,” he mumbled.

Anya shifted, then relaxed. “Well, you are warm,” she replied, but the real warmth was exploding from within. She had read Damian’s thoughts since he was six, and she knew he liked her. Anya had learned to live it because she was desensitized to knowing people’s secrets, but recently, her view of Damian was subtly shifting. He’d grown out of his rude, immature stage and was now a grumpy teenager who was slightly better at showing affection. She leaned against his chest (his heart was pounding madly as usual) with a content sigh. 

“You better know I don’t do this for everyone,” Damian muttered in her ear, and although Anya couldn’t see him, she bet he was blushing. 

“I know you love me.” Anya’s tone was light enough for it to pass as a joke, but she knew better. Damian leaned forward and rested his chin on Anya’s head (he was the perfect height for her and vice versa).

“Yeah, I do love you,” Damian thought, and Anya could hear how sincere he sounded. He wasn’t denying his feelings anymore. Instead, he’d accepted and even embraced them. Something warm twisted in Anya’s gut. Now her heart was thumping like Damian’s heart. She buried her head in Damian’s robe and appreciated the warmth against her freezing cheeks. 

“Oy, now that you’re here, would you mind helping me with Classical Language?”

Damian’s arms went around Anya to lift up the book, and Anya liked the way she felt protected. She quietly giggled to herself. Maybe she wouldn’t mind studying so much if Sy-on boy was with her all the time...

“You alright? Still cold?”

Damian pressed a hand towards her cheek to check, and Anya instantly flushed. She turned towards him. Damian’s eyes were filled with concern, and his lips were pressed in a thin line. The close proximity was making her a little dizzy.

“Y-y-yeah! I’m alright!” Anya stuttered out a reply. “Of course I’ll help you study! Ha!” She attempted to put on an unaffected look, which probably didn’t work (because Damian could always read her face).

It didn’t help that Damian was blushing again. “Why is she so cute…”

… In the end, neither of them could focus much on studying because they were too distracted by each other’s presence, but at least they enjoyed their sweet time together.

Chapter Text

“Ow! Fuck!”

“Heh! There he goes again,” Anya drawled. She was bored out of her mind, so she was casually observing Damian, and she’d caught him bumping into a table. Damian had shrieked in pain and screamed that strange “fuck” word again. 

Damian was saying that word a lot lately, and Anya had no idea what it meant. She thought it meant something bad, because he kept saying that to reply to bad things (“We have a test today.” “FUCK!”). However, Damian used that term to refer to good things as well, like when Emile excitedly told him they were serving stew and Damian hollered “FUCK YEAH!”. It seemed to be a versatile term too, and it could be combined with other words to form “fuck this” (same meaning as “fuck” apparently) and “fuck off” (which meant “go away”). The word was rather prevalent in his thoughts as well, and Anya had heard “she has no business being this FUCKING CUTE” and “why is my fucking heart beating so fast” among many other thoughts. It seemed to be Damian’s favourite word at the moment.

Anya leaned closer to Becky and whispered conspiratorially, “Becky, what does ‘fuck’ mean?”

Becky dramatically gasped, highly offended. “D-don’t say that!” She hissed frantically. She spun around to make sure no one was listening to them as if that very word could cause the apocalypse. “My Papa says it’s a very bad word! Ladies like us shouldn’t be saying things like that!”

“But Sy-on boy always says it!”

Becky scoffed. “Really? Just because your crush does something doesn’t mean you have to do it! Especially when he’s using bad words!”

At first, Anya didn’t understand why Becky called Damian her “crush”, but after a long while, she finally got it! Anya wanted to crush Damian’s resolve! She wanted to make him invite her to his house, and so she would gradually wear down Damian’s resistance until he gave in. Becky was sooo smart for coming up with that term.

So Anya returned to gazing at Damian. Her eyes always landed on him for no real reason. Anya didn’t know why, but she could recognize Damian’s brown hair in a sea of people. When Damian walked into her classroom, Anya would always look up, alert. When she heard his voice in the corridors, she would always turn to look. Sometimes, he would look at her too. The shade of his eyes were brown, but they weren’t like the rich cocoa Anya drank at home. No, they were a tinge greyer, like cocoa but murkier and mixed with the faint smoke coming out from the Eden kitchens. Interestingly enough, Damian’s eyes would shine in the sunlight. They reminded Anya of some pretty gem from Uncle Yuri’s picture books- amber? Yup, that was it-

“FUCK!!”

Damian had tripped again, and this time he fell face-flat on the floor. As his followers helped him out, Anya sniggered, amused by Damian. Damian’s nose was a bright red (like the clown he is, Anya thought with a pleased nod), and that redness soon extended to his cheeks. He pointed a shaking finger at Anya.

“Stupid shrimp! You made me trip!!” He accused her with a high-pitched screech.

Anya grinned lazily. “Heh? You hurt your head, didn’t you? I’m all the way over here. You’re over,” she vaguely gestured with her hands, “there. Sorry, but I don’t have telekinesis-”

“You were staring at me, stupid!” Damian burst out. “That’s why I fucking tripped!”

“Oooh,” Becky cooed, suddenly joining in the conversation. “You were distracted by our Anya?”

“SHUT UP, BLACKBELL!” Damian roared, his face positively ablaze. “That’s not- that’s-”

Anya frowned. Although a blushing Damian was funny and made her feel weird and fuzzy inside, she didn’t excuse his actions. “Don’t be mean to Becky!” She swiftly retorted. “She was just asking a question!”

A scowl appeared on Damian’s face. “FUCK YOU, ANYA!” He hollered at her. “Fuck you ten thousand- no, ten million times!”

Ah, it was the “fuck” word again. Judging by how embarrassed Damian looked, he probably meant in a bad way. Anger simmered inside her, but instead of immediately resorting to violence, Anya did what Ma taught her. 

She merely smiled. 

And of course that irritated Damian to no end.

“FUCK YOU!” He screamed again, his cheeks about to explode. “Stop making my heart more confused than it already is! I wish I can make you shut the fuck up! Fuck! I REALLY WANNA FUCK YOU-”

A book came crashing down on Damian’s head. Henderson appeared, an appalled expression on his face. “How inelegant!” Henderson declared furiously. “Detention for you, Mister Desmond! That is no proper way to flirt with a lady!”

Damian gasped loudly. “W-what?! I wasn’t even trying to-”

“-Hey, Uncle Franky, what does ‘fuck’ mean?”

Franky gave Anya a side look. “I don’t think this is what your parents wanted when they let me babysit,” he replied bluntly. “Who taught you that word? Kids from school?”

Anya tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Well, Sy-on boy (you know him, that Damian Desmond with murky cocoa eyes that look amber in the sun) told me, and I quote, ‘I really wanna fuck you’. Whatever that means.”

Franky’s eyes widened and he slowly lowered his cup of coffee. He had to ponder for a few seconds before he could reply. “If you care about that Desmond boy's life, do not ever tell that to your parents.”

“...Ookay?”

“What do you mean I said that?!”

Damian’s cheeks were still as ablaze as they were fifteen years ago. He whipped his head to glare at Anya. Anya just mischievously grinned. 

“Poor little Sy-on boy, saying ‘fuck this’ and ‘fuck that’ without knowing what it means,” she sniggered. She patted Damian’s head fondly. “Man, how did I marry such an idiot?”

Chapter Text

Damian’s 16th birthday came first in the cold month of January. He was one of the oldest students and one of the first to receive their soulmark. To celebrate, he organized a gigantic party in one of the Desmond holiday homes (his father didn’t come by, of course, but his brother sent him his blessings and gifts before he had to hurriedly leave for business). Eden students flocked there whether they were invited or not. Damian invited most people in his year except for the people he disliked. So quite obviously, as his favourite person in the world, Anya Forger was going. 

Damian had been mocking and making fun of Anya from ages six to ten until he crossed a line and she burst into tears. Which was of course Damian’s ultimate weakness, except he didn’t want to show how affected he was. They bickered for a while, the teachers watched them with interest and second-hand embarrassment, and with Becky’s intervention they finally made up. Damian vowed to be a better friend (“Heh, I didn’t know you considered me as a friend with how you’ve been treating me-” “I-I’m trying to be better now!”) and also vowed to get over his crush. He achieved the former with much success, but the latter was a complete and utter failure. 

Ever since Anya could control her powers, she decided to stop reading minds as much. She felt like it was an invasion of privacy, and learning too much about her parents and classmates made her feel uncomfortable. When she approached her teens, she could suppress it masterfully and only chose to read minds for missions. However, she knew Damian had a crush on her, and according to Becky he’d been crushing on her for a decade. Anya didn’t need superpowers to know he still had feelings for her, and they were growing stronger each year. 

Anya had to admit she was also growing fond of him, with his panicked ways to impress her and the grouchy, immature side he always reverted to when she was around him. He tutored her in the library and fed her peanuts. She played with his hair and made fun of him. He poked her cheek and she pinched his nose. Everybody viewed them as Eden’s sweethearts. But one thing stood in the way.

The soulmarks.

Anya was a year younger than her classmates. While everybody would get soulmarks this year, Anya would get hers next year. To make matters worse, she didn’t even know her own birthday. The orphanage had given her one on the day she was taken in. So Anya’s soulmark could suddenly appear on a random day and completely shock her. 

… And besides, Anya was pretty much convinced she wasn’t Damian’s soulmate. Her family was working on arresting his dad. He was from the upper class, and she was the product of human experimentation. She was from a family of spies and assassins and he was her target. Logically, it just wouldn’t work out. Damian’s soulmate was probably some high class, pretty lady with a rich family. Anya thought she would like it if she was invited to Damian’s wedding, although the thought of it made her heart clench and her stomach drop. Seeing Damian be married to some faceless lady… that somehow hurt more than it should. 

So a fifteen-year-old Becky and a fourteen-year-old Anya got into their best dresses and made their way towards Damian’s party. It was quite the event with lights twinkling in the garden and hor d’oeuvres piled on golden plates (Anya noticed there was a peanut section). An orchestra played soft music as guests twirled on the dance floor. A three-tiered birthday cake stood proudly in the center of the room, complete with chocolate embellishments and golden icing. It was a tasteful party suitable for the second son of the Desmonds. 

Becky was already gushing about how cute the boys looked and how she wished she would find her soulmate already. Anya nodded along, unable to contribute but willing to support her best friend. 

“Hi Anya. Hi Becky. Thanks for coming.”

Damian emerged from behind a pillar, showing that he obviously hadn’t been impatiently waiting for them to come. He totally hadn’t spent a significant amount of time mooning near the front gate and getting his hands sweaty. They exchanged pleasantries, then Becky tactically decided to leave to talk to somebody. She gave Damian a meaningful glance, and he flushed. 

“You look good tonight, Forger,” Damian acknowledged.

Anya patted her hair self consciously. “Heh, had to tone it down so I wouldn’t outshine the birthday boy,” she teased him.

Anya didn’t read his mind, but she’d known him long enough to know what he was thinking. You always outshine me anyway. Anya got a little flustered by his fond gaze, and looked away. Damian coughed.

“Anyways, has your soulmark appeared yet?” Anya asked, ignoring how her heart lurched.

“Not yet.” Damian was shifting his weight on his feet- a subtle sign he was uneasy. “It’ll appear at the time I was born, which is 8:35pm today. An hour to go.”

Anya patted Damian’s shoulder. “Hey, don’t be so stressed about it. The books say the process is painless.”

“I know, it’s just…” Damian’s cheeks turned pink. “It’s personal, you know. I’ll likely marry the person who shares the same mark. It’ll be a new stage of my life. And… it’s scary.”

Anya didn’t know what to say. The future had always been muddy to her- she didn’t know how long the status quo would last. She was fortunate that her parents hadn’t broken up when they found out about each other’s identities, but they still didn’t know she was an esper. They knew she was a year younger than expected though. (Anya had told them that when she was nine, claiming she just wanted to be adopted. Loid had given her a loving kiss on the forehead.) Damian was actually not very useful to Operation Strix because his father barely cared for him, so Loid and his colleagues had to find other methods. Anya was glad because it meant she didn’t have to take advantage of their friendship. She was scared of her future too, but she couldn’t say that. Thankfully, Damian seemed to think her company was enough, and they quietly stood side by side.

Time passed quickly, and soon it was five minutes until Damian’s supposed birth time. He retreated to check as everybody cheered him on. Fifteen minutes later, he emerged, tugging on his clothes. His cheeks were red. One didn’t need to be a mind reader to know he’d gotten his soulmark.

As expected, everybody clamoured around him, eager to know more. Damian reflectively jumped away and downright refused to let anybody see his mark. “You know, we should actually have the cake right now!” Damian yelled. Distracted, the mob started to move towards the center of the room where Jeeves was serving slices of Damian’s birthday cake. For once, Anya wasn’t lured by the prospect of good food, and went against the current of the crowd. “Hey!” She shouted above their voices.

Damian glanced in her direction. When their eyes met, the blush on his cheeks intensified, but instead of seeming embarrassed like he did with everyone else, he grinned. 

… Ah. So he had hope. He believed they were soulmates. He believed in them. 

And who was Anya to deny him hope?

Soon, more and more students received their soulmarks. Anya was present when Becky received hers. Her soulmark featured an elegant ribbon twisted around a sword, and the sword was engraved with swirling patterns. The mark was pitch black and on her stomach. Becky had run around Eden asking for matches but without success. (“I think he may be older than me! Like, waaay older.” “Becky, why are you obsessed with dad-aged men??”)

Some of Anya’s classmates showed off their soulmarks, some were too shy and just briefly described them. At least two pairs had already been found in their year, and they were a great source of hope and inspiration. 

However, Damian kept his mark very private. He claimed it was because if someone found his mark, they could easily copy it on someone and trick him into believing they were soulmates and marry their way into the Desmonds. It had apparently happened before to foolish but rich heirs, and Damian wasn’t taking any chances.

Anya was glad that her classmates were finding happiness, but she wasn’t obsessed with the concept of soulmates like Becky was. After all, Loid and Yor didn’t receive their soulmarks when they turned sixteen, but they got together anyway. Markless people were known to exist; they just weren’t common, and they were often left out by people with soulmarks. 

Damian had been careful not to change his behaviour post-birthday, but she knew he believed they were likely soulmates. They hadn’t done anything explicitly romantic, but he smiled at her a lot. She’d never seen him show that soft, gentle side of him to anyone else before. And he talked about his future like she would be a part of it too. Anya had nervously chuckled and replied that her birthday hadn’t happened yet. But her supposed 16th birthday was fast approaching, and decidedly-still-fourteen-years-old Anya could no longer avoid the topic.

Becky was convinced it would match with Damian’s. Most of their classmates enthusiastically agreed with Becky. After all, they had been “DamiAnya shippers” since Anya spilled her tears in front of Damian on that fateful day when she was five and he was six. Anya tried to calm them all down without much avail. Regardless of whether she was Damian’s soulmate (as much as it pained her to admit it, she doubted it), her soulmark wouldn’t appear on her fake birthday. Except Anya couldn’t tell them her birthday was fake, therefore she knew she would let everybody down. 

It didn’t help that Anya was a terrible liar in front of Damian. He was so good at deciphering her facial expressions that she once wondered if he could read minds as well (maybe he could read just one person’s mind- hers). They sat down on a swing in the park the day before Anya’s birthday, the late afternoon sun painting their skin golden. Anya idly pushed herself back and forth, and remembered when Loid used to do that with her. Now he was busy. He was always busy. 

“Anya, can I ask you a serious question?”

“Sure.”

Anya didn’t dare to read Damian’s mind. She hadn’t been reading his mind since his birthday. 

“If you don’t like me, please just say it to my face. We’ll still be friends (we’ll always be friends) and I-I won’t bother you about it ever again, okay?”

Damian looked anxious. His eyebrows were all scrunched up and Anya suddenly had a childish notion to tickle him to make him laugh. He’d always carried himself with an air of pride (and later, responsibility), but now, he looked strangely vulnerable. He was still a child, just like her.

Anya foolishly wondered what it would be like if she’d never been part of Operation Strix. Maybe in an alternate universe, they could grow up, war-free and happy, and be the teenagers they should be. She opened her mouth to reply.

“I… I…”

Anya had lied plenty of times. She’d lied to her parents, she’d lied to Becky, and she’d lied for the missions she dragged herself into. She lied a lot to Damian- she told him her parents were normal people, she’d made up excuses when she “coincidentally” saved him from assassins four times, and she lied when he was surprised a close ally of the Desmonds was being investigated (Fiona was the one in charge of the investigation). But this? Her true feelings? That she couldn’t lie about. 

It had taken time for Damian to weave his way into her heart. But he had ten years to do that. Ten years of book sharing and huddling under raincoats and chasing each other in corridors. They challenged each other to the stupidest bets, but they were always there when the other needed comfort. He protected her from bullies and she boldly defended him when people compared him to Demetrius. They had gotten close in a way that Anya felt like they would’ve ended up like that anyway regardless of Operation Strix. Somewhere along the way his smirk stopped being aggravating and instead became a memory she cherished. Damian was precious to her. 

“... I do like you, Damian,” she confessed, the tips of her ears red. “I can’t deny that.”

She’d used his first name. That was enough to send Damian into a flurry, but Anya continued.

“But I don’t think… the soulmark thing…”

Damian had a sad smile etched on his face. “I-I can’t imagine anyone else but you…” he mumbled.

Anya laughed, warmth twisting in her stomach. Was that a marriage proposal? Because it sounded a bit like one. What was it with the Forger family and unconventional proposals?

“I wish we can get together,” Anya said. It was the truth. She wished they didn’t meet under these circumstances and she certainly wished his father was never a threat to world peace. 

Damian took a deep breath. “Well, no matter what happens tomorrow, I want you to have this.”

In the fading light of the day, Damian slowly rolled up his sleeve. Anya watched with bated breath. Damian’s soulmark was etched across his arm, the black patterns stopping just before his wrist. He didn’t need to explain his soulmark because Anya knew what it was.

It was a griffin and a chimera intertwined with each other, two halves of a whole. 

Anya knew this was the first time he’d shown his mark to anyone. Damina knew she wouldn’t tell a soul. Some words didn’t need to be said. 

Anya swallowed. “No matter what happens tomorrow, I want you to have this.”

And she leaned over and kissed Damian on the cheek. It was the first time she’d done that. Damian’s heart was pounding so quickly he felt like he was about to explode.

When Anya came to school two days later, everyone’s eyes were on her. “So… did you get it?” Becky practically squealed. Anya noticed Damian had lifted his head in interest, and her throat suddenly went dry.

“I… it didn’t appear,” she said honestly. “Nothing appeared.”

Then Damian turned away, and a flood of sorrow swept Anya off her feet. Before she could look at her classmates’ stunned (and pitying) expressions, she ran.

So everybody knew Anya was markless, and she wasn’t Damian’s soulmate. Upon that realization, several fifteen-year-olds (and younger) pounced on Damian, eager to prove that they would become his soulmate. Damian shrugged them all off. Everybody with common sense knew he only had eyes for one girl.

“I’m really sorry,” Anya said, her pink hair fluttering in the light breeze. She was sorry for not telling him she didn’t turn sixteen. She was even sorrier for giving up on them before her actual 16th birthday. 

Damian gave a shrug. “It’s not your fault. It’s not anyone’s fault.” But she could tell he was upset. She wrapped her arms tightly around him and they both let themselves cry. 

They stopped dancing around the thin line they’d never crossed. People started whispering about how Anya never deserved the Desmonds’ son anyway. She was a commoner and stupid. Damian was swept away from her and landed among girls of noble standing. Anya and Damian still talked, but they were only friends. The sadness in both of their eyes was poorly clouded. Their hugs lingered a little too long. Anya wished she’d gotten the courage to kiss him on the cheek again, but she didn’t want to blur the lines. 

And so a year passed by.

Anya was getting good at forgetting she could read Damian’s mind if she so pleased. She didn’t want to know what he thought about on a daily basis. She knew they sometimes still stared at each other like they could magically figure it out. Despite fate’s intervention, their feelings lingered.

But then Damian was seen with different girls from powerful families, and it became hot gossip in Eden. It appeared that his father was setting him up for marriage regardless of the soulmate situation. Damian’s feelings never mattered to Donovan - he was just a pawn to gain more influence and power. 

Seventeen-year-old Damian had a date to Eden’s annual Spring Ball. Fifteen-year-old (?) Anya didn’t. She acted like she didn’t care, but Becky knew she did.

Becky had been helpful in helping Anya to “get over Damian”. Damian would likely be engaged to someone soon, she said. It was how things worked in the upper class. And there were always more fish in the sea. 

Becky convinced Anya to enjoy herself at the Spring Ball. Becky’s immaculate fashion tastes came into play again, and she promised Anya she would be the prettiest girl at the ball. Anya’s hair was in an elegant bun complete with braids, pink tendrils of hair gracefully framing her face. She wore a strapless purple gown that shimmered in the moonlight. Becky had even let her borrow some jewelry and Anya had a string of pearls around her neck. It wasn’t Anya’s usual style, but she liked how she looked older than she usually was. Maybe she wanted to be mature for a change.

Anya saw Damian’s date. Everybody saw. She was exceedingly pretty with dark brown hair and ocean-blue eyes. She was tall and lithe and she moved gracefully like a ballerina. She took everybody’s breath away. People thought she and Damian were a perfect match. Both were attractive, intelligent, and rich. A true power couple, they said. They must be soulmates. 

Anya put up with the ball for an hour and half before she went out for some fresh air. She walked away from the strings of lights and paper lanterns until she was half hidden by the shadows. A breeze blew past her and she shivered. She’d exposed a lot more skin than she was used to, most prominently her shoulders and her collarbone. She’d never worn a strapless dress before. 

“Anya!”

And now Damian was looking for her. He’d abandoned his date to find Anya who’d tucked herself away. Despite everything, it was still her that he cared about the most. Anya’s heart warmed.

Damian rushed into view, looking as handsome as ever in his suit. His golden tie matched the dress of his date, and now concern filled his eyes. Anya’s blood thrummed in her ears. “I was searching all over the place for you! Aren’t you cold out here?”

“I’m fine. Just needed some peace and quiet.”

Damian’s voice broke the silence. “Yeah. I think I do too.” He glanced up at her again, and his mouth fell open. “Anya, you’re- you’re bleeding!”

Anya’s hands hurriedly scrambled over her skin, but she felt no pain or any liquid seeping out. Damian moved closer to touch, but his fingers stopped in front of her chest. Anya followed his gaze to her collarbone where dark ink was swirling and spreading across her skin.

Anya swiped a finger at the dark spots. Her finger came out dry. 

Together they hurried towards the nearest pond, Anya’s heart hammering. Dimly lit by a lantern, they stared at their reflections. On Anya’s collarbone was a magnificent drawing of a griffin and a chimera- the exact same one on Damian’s arm. Damian nearly tore his suit apart in his eagerness to roll up his sleeves. They compared the patterns. It was the exact same mark. 

Damian had watched the mark appear. There was no way she could have faked it. They shared the same soulmark. They were soulmates. Anya was rendered speechless. In awe, Damian reached out a hand and gently brushed it across Anya’s collarbone. It was intimate, but Anya didn’t shy away. Then as if he’d just realized what he’d done, he froze and dropped his hand, a blush on his cheeks.

“Well, I guess I just turned sixteen,” Anya managed to say. At least she knew her actual birthday now. The orphanage was a few months off. She gave Damian one of her signature smirks to lighten the mood. 

Seventeen-year-old Damian gaped at sixteen-year-old Anya. His cheeks were tomato red, and Anya could bet hers was the same colour.

“So it was you all along,” Damian breathed, his eyes full of surprise and fondness.

Anya had to tease him for old time’s sake. “Hey, if I get to be the future Mrs. Desmond, can I visit your father’s house?”

“HEY!” Damian nudged her, but he was laughing like he’d never been. He reached out a hand and Anya held onto it. They both flushed in the dark but didn’t let go. 

“Anya Forger, I have so many questions. Why did you lie? Why are you a year younger? You know, you’ve been killing me for the past year.” Damian huffed, but he was too ecstatic to stay mad. His eyes lingered on the mark on Anya’s collarbone, and his lips couldn’t help but quirk up.

Anya bumped Damian’s mark with her shoulder, and shot Damian a brilliant grin. “All in due time, Damian Desmond.”

Despite the secret war between the Forgers and the Desmonds, and despite the fragile peace between the East and the West, fate believed in Anya and Damian. Or maybe it was because of those perils. Perhaps they could take the world by storm, him and her together- the griffin and the chimera.

Chapter Text

Anya could barely keep her eyes open when she stumbled into her classroom one fine morning. She’d spent half of the night helping Mama with her mission and was very pleased when she knocked out the bad guys with a bottle of apple juice and a spatula (don’t ask). Mama was safe and Anya had saved the world again so it was totally unfair that she had to go to school. Anya had faked being sick, but Loid saw through her in an instant. Anya huffed, cheeks puffing up. Papa could be so boring sometimes. 

“Morning, Anya!” Becky greeted her cheerfully, then frowned. “Are you alright? You’re looking like George today.”

(George, who was three seats away from them, scowled. Damian, who was in a corner with his cronies, pretended not to notice Anya. He was failing.)

“It’s nothing,” Anya lied easily. With practically every adult around her being a liar, she’d picked up the habit. “I stayed up late last night.”

Becky’s eyes grew wide and dreamy. “Oh my! Were you also watching TV? Have I finally convinced you to watch romantic dramas! I could barely stay up till 11pm to finish them!”

11pm? Becky… you’re weak! Anya thought with an air of superiority. Despite her fatigue, her lips curled up to form that familiar smug smirk. I was up at 3am fighting bad guys and saving the world! Heh!

Then Anya’s face crashed on the table, and both Becky and Damian jumped in surprise. “Anya?” Becky gasped.

“I’m soooo sleepy,” Anya whined, her little fists thumping on the table. “Wanna get outta school. Wanna go back home to Bond.”

Becky couldn’t relate to Anya, but she indulged her. When Henderson came to start his lesson, Becky nudged a slumbering Anya awake. Anya jolted like an atomic bomb went off, saw Henderson, and promptly returned to sleeping. Henderson’s classes were boring anyway. Anya’s thoughts drifted off to dreamland-

“Hah, that stupid shrimp is sleeping in class… it’s such a shame because her parents must have paid good money for her to be here…”

Upon hearing a certain boy’s thoughts, aggravation rose inside Anya. That Sy-on boy was seriously so annoying, and while Anya was exhausted, she could never pass up on an opportunity to prove Damian wrong. Grudgingly, she dragged her body into an upright position. She tried to focus on whatever Henderson was writing on the blackboard to no avail. Anya sleepily rubbed her eyes and squinted in front of her.

“Huh, she’s waking up now… her cheeks are a little smudged and did she just rub her eyes? That’s cute… WAIT! SHE’S NOT CUTE! SHE IS TOTALLY NOT CUTE!! What are you thinking??”

Ah, so Damian was yelling in his mind again. Anya sniggered. Typical. 

With Damian’s thoughts entertaining her, Anya managed to survive Henderson’s class without falling asleep. She had a few close calls, but Damian’s frantic “STOP THINKING SHE’S CUTE!!” woke her up time and time again. If Anya ever got a Stellar Star because of academics, she had to thank Damian for being interesting enough to keep her awake. Whenever Damian got especially panicked, Anya would just turn around to give him a smirk which just made him even more panicked. Damian was actually pretty funny at times; he made the most interesting expressions. 

However, when lunch break came, Anya was so tired she just half-heartedly ate a muffin (“Anya, you can’t eat desserts for lunch!”) and went back to the classroom to sleep. And Damian conveniently had some reading he wanted to do at lunchtime so he also returned to the classroom.

When Damian opened the door, the lights were all off in the silent classroom. He was about to turn them on when he caught a glimpse of a very familiar shade of pink.

Anya was slumped on her table, her hair buns (horns?) askew. Her right cheek was pressed against the table, a small trickle of drool running down her chin. Anya’s hair was a total mess but Damian felt the strange urge to pet it. Then he remembered his place and his cheeks flushed. Had he just been staring at a sleeping girl? How impolite and improper of him! 

Anya’s cheeks looked especially puffy, and if Damian had way less self control, he would’ve poked them. Hey, they looked so cute and soft! But Damian had learned to keep his hands to himself, so he turned his nose up and walked away, ignoring how quickly his heart thumped. 

Damian’s hand reached for the lights, thought for a second, then his hand retreated. Anya was his goofy classmate, but she genuinely looked like she needed the rest. He took a seat right next to the big windows with natural sunlight coming through. Anya was in front of him and Damian was trying really hard not to focus on her. He raised his book to cover up his view of Anya, but that didn’t stop the warmth on his cheeks. Urgh. 

Seriously, why was the Forger girl so tired? He knew she sometimes slept in class, but today was an extreme case. Her face was paler (not that he noticed) and she barely cared she flunked that math test (not that he noticed!) she didn’t pay as much attention to Damian (not that he noticed!!). Was Anya sick? Did she have problems going on at home? And why did Damian’s brain feel like spinning whenever it concerned her?

Damian crossed his arms, his mind now literally anywhere but the book he was supposed to be reading. How had this mere commoner girl managed to squeeze her way into his head and heart? It was maddening, but somehow Damian didn’t hate it. Although he would never, ever say it to anyone, he kind of… liked it.

It was utterly stupid how much Anya had an effect on him even when she was sleeping.

So when Anya dazedly woke up half an hour later, she was surprised to find a packet of peanuts next to her. Hehe, tasty peanuts, she thought to herself, confused but delighted. She was barely aware of her surroundings until she heard a familiar voice in her mind.

“She’s awake! She took the peanuts!! Why am I so stupidly happy over this!!”

Anya chuckled to herself, then spun around to look at Damian. Damian had hidden half of his face with his book, his red nose peeking out. She beamed at him. “Thanks for the peanuts, Sy-on!”

“N-no problem…” Damian stammered out, then lowered his head in embarrassment. 

Oh, Damian was weird all right. He was snappy and impulsive but he could also be kind of nice at times. The peanuts woke her up and Anya tore upon the package with vigor. She poured them out on her palm, then paused. She stretched out a hand towards Damian.

“Want some?”

Damian’s cheeks flushed. “I-idiot! I got them for you! I don’t need your peanuts!! You can have them all, SHRIMP!”

Anya smiled to herself as she popped a peanut in her mouth. And now the snappy Damian was back.

Chapter Text

Damian was focused on cutting shapes from sheets of coloured paper, but he wasn’t focused enough to be able to ignore the little shrimp sitting opposite him. Anya Forger was enthusiastically making… well, whatever she was making. Damian had no clue what that crumpled up monstrosity was supposed to be, and he had no interest in knowing. He obviously had no interest in Anya Forger and her mannerisms. No, not at all.

Damian huffed. He had already spent too much time thinking about that ridiculous girl. She wasn’t worth his attention (even if he kept on being drawn to her for some stupid reason). Damian had to make his paper griffin as beautiful as possible so his father would notice him. Damian smirked to himself, already looking forward to seeing his father’s pleased expression. 

So it came as a surprise when Anya nudged forward a… scrap of paper with black scribbles and uneven strings crudely stuck on it. Damian gaped at it, utterly confused. He stared at Anya who only had her signature smug expression. 

“His name… is Bond,” Anya drawled, clearly very happy with herself.

Damian just stared at Anya, then at whatever she had offered him. He nonchalantly returned to cutting his paper and refused to spare her a second glance. “Do you always name your trash?”

“Well, I did name you Sy-on boy,” Anya replied just as nonchalantly. Damian paused.

He hadn’t expected Anya to retort, and now frustration was bubbling inside him. His cheeks reddened for some odd reason. “You didn’t name me,” he tried to explain. “My father named me Damian.”

“And I named you Sy-on boy,” Anya said like it was the most natural thing in the world. She still had that smug look on her face which aggravated Damian to no end. 

By now, they were attracting a lot of attention from surrounding classmates. Damian’s blush was intensifying for no reason and he just wanted to wipe that stupid smirk off Anya’s face.

“So maybe I do name my trash,” Anya drawled. Their classmates, Ewen and Emile included, gave a loud “oooh”. 

“I’m not trash!” Damian hollered. His traitorous heartbeat was speeding up. “I’m the second son of the Desmonds-”

Anya rolled her eyes, used to his spiel. “I know, I know. Usually, you’re the rich kid Damian who studies a lot to impress everyone. However, when you’re with me, you’re the annoying, trashy Sy-on boy who makes fun of my hair and tries to make me trip and says I’m ugly even though you think I’m cute-”

“I DON’T THINK YOU’RE CUTE!” Damian practically screamed at her, but Anya remained unflappable. 

“You’re different around me (you insult me, but you also insult those who insult me), so I’m giving my Damian a nickname to separate him from everyone else’s Damian.”

Damian, unfortunately, had completely lost his train of thought when Anya said “my Damian”. His chest felt like it was about to burst and he wanted to drown himself in the nearest pond because his cheeks were ablaze. His hands started to sweat. Wh-what do you mean “MY Damian”?? I’m totally not YOURS, Forger-

Becky had then decided to join the conversation. “Aww, Anya!” She cooed. “Already giving Damian a nickname? It’s cute that you didn’t give him a conventional nickname like ‘honey’ or ‘darling’-”

Damian instantly had forbidden visions of Anya calling him that with a sweet, adorable smile, and flushed even more. Anya was looking at him strangely. Sweat trickled down his spine. This entire situation was so embarrassing!

Emile nudged Damian with a knowing grin. “Eh, boss man, I guess you’re Anya’s trash after all…”

“More like trash for Anya,” Ewen popped up. 

“I-I’m not trash!” Damian snapped. “And I’m not Anya’s- Anya’s-” His lip was trembling, and he could barely get his words out. But why? He didn’t want to be connected to Anya in any shape or form- he totally, totally didn’t! 

“It’s okay, Sy-on boy,” Anya stated with a calm smile. “You’re always free to be my trash.”

Damian exploded. He slammed a fist on the desk and everybody jumped. “I AM NOT TRASH FOR-”

Anya suddenly looked up at him, green eyes wide and innocent. Damian faltered at her adorable expression and instantly deflated.

“-you…”

Chapter Text

It was raining during break time at Eden, so the class was forced to stay indoors. Not that Anya really minded. She took out the pack of peanuts Ma had stuffed into her bag and happily munched on them. She stretched out a hand towards Becky who was sitting next to her. “Want one?” She asked cheerfully.

Becky was once again snacking on cookies made by the world class chef living in her mansion. Just the sight of them was enough to make Anya’s mouth water. Fortunately, Becky was always happy to trade her high class cookies for Anya’s commoner peanuts. Little things like that was why Becky was Anya’s best friend. Becky enthusiastically talked about her favourite romcoms and Anya nodded at appropriate parts.

Becky excused herself to go to the washroom, and without anything else to do, Anya took to observing her classmates. A group of giggling girls were huddled by the windows and playing with each other’s hair. Anya watched as one of them gave the other a headpat, and Anya couldn’t help but smile. She liked headpats! Pa and Ma always gave them to her! It made her feel cute and loved. Anya was enjoying her happy break when a familiar rude voice intruded in her mind.

“Ugh, those girls are so loud! Geez, some of us want to rest in peace.”

Anya resisted a gigantic eye roll. Grumpy Sy-on Boy was back again with his never ending, stupid complaining. As expected, Damian was sulking in a corner with his arms crossed. Anya looked at him curiously. His eyes met hers, then he flushed and instantly turned away. Anya huffed. He was weird as always. What did she expect?

“… Hmm, headpats… I don’t think I’ve gotten any from Mother or Father. Demetrius gave me one last birthday, it felt kinda nice… wait, I’m NOT supposed to want these stupid headpats!! Those are for LITTLE KIDS and BABIES! And I’m NOT a baby!!”

Damian’s mind was interesting to read because he lied to himself even when he was thinking. Anya discreetly watched as Damian subtly snuck looks at the girls. His face appeared to be neutral, but Anya could read his mind and she knew what he was feeling.

Neglected.

Empathy bloomed from Anya’s heart. Sy-on Boy might be a total jerk who said she was a runt and a shrimp, but Anya knew what neglect felt like. She’d been ever so fortunate to be adopted by Pa and Ma. For a long time, Anya didn’t receive the attention she craved. And judging from Damian’s thoughts, he didn’t too. And she felt bad for him. Imagine having an evil superboss as a father! No wonder Damian was starving for affection. 

And besides, Anya liked it when people showed her affection (Pa, Ma, Becky, the list went on). So if she was nice to Damian, he would like her and invite her to his house and the world wouldn’t be doomed! Anya nodded, very satisfied with her flawless plan. She stood up and strode towards Damian. 

“Hi Sy-on,” she greeted him with the confidence of a swole chihuahua. 

Damian looked at her, confused. “What do you want?”

Anya stood on her tiptoes, stretched out a hand, and petted Damian’s head. 

And for one shining moment, Damian’s head was completely blank. It was almost amazing because Anya hadn’t met a lot of people who were devoid of all thoughts. Then Damian jumped away like he was stung by a wasp.

“W-WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” He screeched, his face on fire. 

Anya looked crestfallen and gestured to the group of girls he had been observing earlier. “… Headpats?”

At Anya’s surprised and sad expression, Damian took a deep breath and held himself together. “Umm, you just… shocked me,” he furiously muttered. 

Damian’s reaction was very extreme, and Anya frowned. Maybe she had misread the whole situation and Damian didn’t want headpats anymore. “Sorry, I thought you wanted a headpat,” she said, nervously shifting on her feet. 

“HUH??” Damian’s mind was screaming. “How did she know that? Was she reading my mind— oh no! Those big, expressive, adorable eyes! Wh-why does she look sad? Did I make her sad! Emergency, emergency!! AAAA—“

Damian coughed, his cheeks red. “Well. Uhh. I mean. I guess I don’t mind… a headpat,” he admitted, embarrassed beyond belief. 

Anya instantly beamed. “Well okay!” She leaned forward and gave Damian another pat. Damian felt like he was going to melt. 

Anya was reading Damian’s thoughts very carefully. Hmm, I think he likes it! So she continued with an innocent smile. Meanwhile, Damian’s heart was pounding so quickly it felt like it was going to burst. 

“Headpats!! She’s giving me headpats! She’s standing on her tiptoes too… that’s so cute! Wh-what is this feeling… it’s happiness! Hey, why am I liking this so much? I’m not supposed to be liking this! A-and I feel like I’m about to explode…”

Anya inwardly gasped. She was going to make Damian explode? But Damian couldn’t die before Operation Strix was completed (she could care less about what would happen to him later, ha ha). So for the sake of world peace, she put her hand down. Damian’s cheeks were dotted with pink blotches. He looked embarrassed but happy. 

“Hey, Anya,” he uttered in a low voice, eyes not daring to meet hers. “… Would you mind if I return the favour?”

“Hmm?” Anya didn’t think a lot about it. “Sure.“

So Damian reached out and patted Anya’s head like it was the most natural thing in the world. Anya was the shortest girl in their class, and Damian was one of the tallest boys, so she looked at him with those big green eyes. 

… Anya was surprised to say she was enjoying it. Damian was mean to her at times, but this time he wasn’t. She stared up at his flushed cheeks, not knowing what to do. Damian’s mind started screaming again. 

“AAAAAA I’m actually petting her! Her hair is so soft and it should be illegal to be this cute! I’m in heaven right now! What am I doing with my lifeeee—“

Damian sprung away again and stared at his hand like he couldn’t believe what he’d just done. His eyes flitted towards Anya and the redness on his face increased by several degrees. “Wh-what just happened—“

“Anya!” Becky sung as she entered the classroom. “I’m back! And I can’t wait to talk about Vincent’s proposal last night, I could feel the love gushing from the TV!”

Anya instantly turned away from Damian. “Becky!” Without sparing poor Damian so much a glance, she happily went back to Becky like their encounter hadn’t happened. 

Damian was left there, warmth bursting from his heart, his face still in complete shock. Damian was so mortified he wanted to hide his face with his hands, but at the same time his heart was singing with joy. It was all too confusing, but a welcome sort of confusing. He stared at his hand, then put it on his head. He blushed. 

“… I actually wouldn’t mind it if it happened again…”

Chapter Text

Mistress Schlag was terrifying but Anya wasn’t as bothered as the rest of her classmates. After all, Anya had saved her parents from death and she’d survived the scientists’ cruel experiments— a random old hag showing up with lightning bolt stickers just seemed silly compared to the real dangers Anya had experienced. But then again, if Anya got too many Tonitrus bolts, she would be expelled and the world would be doomed. It would be wise for her to worry a bit. 

Her classmates nervously stood in a line as that… monster thoroughly inspected their bags. Anya peered in front of her, but her view was blocked when Damian abruptly stepped in front of her. Anya’s head bumped against his back (geez, why was he so tall?). Damian was reassuring the panicking Ewen and Emile. “Relax. None of us have anything that’s prohibited.” He turned and realized Anya was looking at him. He stiffened and quickly spun around like nothing had happened.

“Geez, I can only hope Anya’s not stupid enough to get in trouble…” He then shoved his hands in his pockets, a slight frown on his face. “I-if I stand in front of her, maybe she’ll have a better idea of what that hag will put her through…”

Anya smirked to herself. Hah! Damian’s worry for her was… cute, in a way, because Anya was the daughter of a spy and an assassin! He didn’t need to worry about her. She was always prepared! She would be like her well-organised Papa! 

But then Mistress Schlag began on a rant about handkerchiefs that shocked the poor first years. The ominous tale of “Mr Pee Pants” served as a grim reminder of what dark route the students could go down. “Live by your handkerchief, die by your handkerchief,” she stated sternly, then rapped her fist on the desk. “Next student!”

The first years burst into anxious chatter as they searched their pockets for that essential piece of fabric. Anya couldn’t really see because Damian was in front of her and he was super tall, but thankfully she could read minds. 

Then Damian’s internal screams pierced her thoughts. “It’s gone! What do I do?!” He frantically patted his empty pockets to no avail. Anya watched with mild amusement. Damian, having apparently lost his handkerchief, was spiralling into a pit of panic. “I’m gonna get a bolt… what do I do?!”

Damian thought of asking Ewen, but his good conscience reeled him in. Anya could see exactly what Damian was visualising: everybody would hate him for forcing Ewen to bear the bolt when it was Damian’s fault. In his mind, various classmates were screaming at him, from Becky’s furious “You scumbag! How could you?!” to Anya’s own nonchalant “Snot-nosed jerk” and “Butt face”. Thus, Damian came to the instant conclusion that he couldn’t borrow anybody’s handkerchief. He tugged at his hair in frustration. “But what can I dooooo?” He wailed in his head. 

Wow, Sy-on Boy’s freaking out. This is great, Anya thought to herself, nonchalant despite Damian’s screeching. As always, reading Damian’s mind was like watching a soap opera. From the looks of it, it was more interesting than the shows Becky was obsessed with. Then she remembered how the imaginary her had fired insults at Damian and she sniffed. I’d never say those things!

“-and that’s not even the worst part.” Damian continued his train of thought, and Anya perked up, interested. Damian was so terrified that he was actually shaking. (Anya began to feel bad for him.) “If I get even a single Tonitrus Bolt, then for the whole rest of my life, I can never face my Father again!”

It felt like being smacked with a ton of bricks. Anya’s heart was suddenly seized with the exact same fear Damian had. Plan B was in danger! If there was no last boss, the world would be doomed! Anya’s heart began to pound. She watched as Damian gritted his teeth and grudgingly prepared to ask Ewen for his handkerchief, but he was too late. Ewen was already being inspected. Even if Anya couldn’t read minds, she could feel the gloom and despair emitting from Damian. His last hopes were gone, much like the world if Anya failed. Damian looked like he was close to tears. Years of pent up pressure swelled inside him and threatened to spill. His fists trembled as he saw his entire life shatter right in front of his eyes. 

“I’ve tried to hard to be the perfect son but a stupid napkin is gonna be my downfall?! I’ll have to run in my underwear and then Anya will think I’m a pervert and then she’s never gonna like me! NOT like I want her to like me! I’m gonna get disowned and Father will hate me forever! I-I’ll have to find a new foster family but no one will accept me, so I’ll get bounced back and forth until…”

Anya acted on reflex. She dug her hand in her pocket and thankfully touched the soft fabric of her handkerchief. If the situation was as bad as Damian thought, then she had to save him at all costs! She cleared her throat. “Sy-on Boy?”

Damian spun, flustered because she saw him in such a vulnerable state. “W-what?”

Anya offered him her handkerchief with a dramatic flourish. “You can borrow my hankychief,” she stated with a calm smile. 

Damian almost jumped out of shock. Brilliant red clouded his cheeks “SHE COULD TELL?” He screamed in his mind. “Y-yeah, but what about you?” He managed to choke out.

Aha! Sy-on’s really is worried about me! Anya smugly thought to herself. “Heh heh heh, don’t worry, I thought this might happen.” She tried to mimic her Papa’s triumphant smirk whenever he outwitted his enemies (not that Damian was her enemy… or was he?). She gave her bag two solid pats. “That’s why I always bring two hankychiefs!”

Damian’s voice was wobbly. “You sure?”

“Take it.”

“Thank you!!” 

Ahh, it was nice to see the high and mighty Damian Desmond bow his head in gratitude. Anya was very proud of herself. She’d saved Sy-on Boy, which meant she saved his relationship with his father, which meant she saved the entire world. She nodded to herself, pleased with her efforts. She peered out from behind Damian to observe his inspection.

The Mistress was staring at her handkerchief with suspicion. “Is this handkerchief really yours? It has an “A” monogrammed on it.”

“Oh, uh…” Damian had to quickly think of a reply. “It’s the “A” in Damian…”

Heheh, Sy-on Boy is smart! I knew he would think of a lie like that, Anya delightfully thought to herself. As she had hoped, Damian passed without any trouble, and Anya’s heart felt like singing. Her flawless plan was complete! She’d saved the world again!

So when Mistress Schlag called out “Next!”, Anya marched forward with the confidence of a thousand swole chihuahuas.

Damian’s heart was racing. Anya’s soft handkerchief was still in his sweaty palms and he glared at the pink “A” monogrammed on it. Good thing his name also had an “A” or else that would’ve been his downfall. He had no idea why Anya did that for him… his face flushed at the thought. That stupid shrimp had saved him and Damian’s heart felt all weird and fluttery. H-he didn’t need saving! If anything, he should be the one saving her!

Damian, along with Becky right behind Anya, anxiously watched Anya’s inspection. According to what she’d said, Anya had two handkerchiefs, so she should get by with no problem. Except Anya started showing signs of panic when she rummaged in her pockets and her bag. Damian’s heart dropped like a stone as a familiar wave of dread washed over him. No way… Anya couldn’t had forgotten-

Damian acted on impulse. He had to buy her time. “Oi, look at those students running in the corridors!” He shouted. As expected, Mistress Schlag’s attention instantly shifted from Anya to the corridor. It was just his luck that there were indeed two students chasing each other. Mistress Schlag rose like a terrifying tigress and strode out to terrorise the two unfortunate students. Everyone in the classroom breathed a temporary sigh of relief. Anxiety twisting in his gut, Damian ran up to Anya.

“I messed up so bad! I only imagined bringing two,” Anya sobbed. Damian didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at Anya’s incredulous statement. A thousand emotions were swirling in his brain and somehow each and every one of them was about this little girl. Damian shoved the handkerchief back into Anya’s small, warm hand. “T-take this back and show her!” 

“But she’ll recognise this as yours…”

Anya’s cheeks were a puffy red and tears were already forming in her eyes. Damian’s heart was shattered like it always did when she cried. Protectiveness surged inside him- he had to save her!. He glanced around the area and- wait, there was something familiar on a chair! Hope fluttering against his ribcage, he rushed towards it. To his immense surprise, it was his own handkerchief! It must have fallen out when he sat down. Damian stared at the cause of all his trouble- a simple silk handkerchief with gold embroidery. Except it wasn’t his trouble now, it was Anya’s because she’d foolishly given him her handkerchief and she would take the blame instead of him. Damian gulped. 

“Oi! Anya!” He yelled. Tears were seeping from her eyes and Damian instinctively used his handkerchief to soak them up. He dabbed at her eyes while she stared at him, a little confused. “I… um, I found my handkerchief just now. Y-you can use it. I’m really sorry for all the trouble and this is all my fault-”

A gasp from his classmates. “She’s back!” They whispered in terror. Mistress Schlag’s figure loomed above the tiny first years. Damian squeaked and hastily stuffed his handkerchief in Anya’s hand. “J-just do it!” Before he could get either of them in further trouble, he retreated to the sidelines.

Mistress Schlag eyed Damian’s handkerchief critically. “... This is a rather high quality handkerchief, Miss…” She squinted at the name list, “Forger. Is this yours?”

“It was a gift,” Anya replied nervously but politely. (Technically, she was telling the truth.) The handkerchief was all scrunched up in her tiny fist.

Mistress Schlag leaned forward, her ginormous shadow dwarfing the tiny Anya. Damian could hardly bear to watch but he couldn’t tear his eyes away- it was like watching a trainwreck in slow motion. “May I have a closer look?”

Anya gave a forced laugh. “Ha ha, don’t think you would want that because it’s all covered with Anya’s snot! It’s gross! Ha ha…”

Damian inwardly groaned. Bad move. The Mistress just looked even more suspicious, her nostrils flaring as she stretched out a hand-

Damian frantically made eye contact with Becky. The two usually didn’t get along, but whenever it concerned Anya, they worked with frightening speed and efficiency. Becky put on her best “spoiled rich daddy’s girl” look and cleared her throat daintily. Mistress Schlag froze, then glared at the handkerchief. Doubtless she was thinking she had already wasted too much time on a student who clearly had a handkerchief even if its origin was doubtful. She sighed. Next!”

Anya physically deflated as she scurried to safety (which was towards Damian). “Sy-on, thanks so much for that save.” She beamed at him, grateful, and Damian’s heart melted. 

“It was just sheer luck that I found it and gave it to you on time!!” He stuttered out. “A-and besides, how are you so stupid to forget you didn’t bring two? You’re just gonna get yourself in danger!”

Anya blinked up at him. “But I got you out of danger! I saved you (and the world)!”

Damian’s heart might as well have been struck by a lightning bolt. “IDIOT! D-don’t go sacrificing yourself for others! Look after yourself first, you stupid runt!” He hollered at her. His heart was pounding so quickly it was going to jump out. 

Anya’s aggravating smirk was back. “Heh, you were literally sacrificing others for yourself during that dodgeball match…” Then her smirk faded and was replaced by a genuine smile. “But then you sacrificed yourself for me! Looks like I’m an exception, heh.”

Damian didn’t understand how she could say that with a perfectly straight face. He awkwardly scratched the back of his neck. Despite both of them surviving the bag inspection by switching handkerchiefs, Damian still felt… bad. It twisted in his gut and wormed into his brain. Damian Desmond had been helped by Anya Forger in his darkest hour. It didn’t matter he’d helped her back- she had offered help first and at the cost of herself. And it bothered him.

“I can’t tell you how it sickens me to be indebted to the likes of you,” he grumbled, cheeks flushed with pink. “I-I know! I’ll just pay you back! Piece of cake.”

Anya looked pleasantly confused. “You’re going to pay me back with cake?”

Well, it looked like Anya was as stupid as always. “SHUT UP, YOU MORON!” Damian screeched. “I’m trying to thank you!!”

As he stormed away, it didn’t occur to him that Anya’s handkerchief was still stuffed in his pocket. Nor did it occur to him to ask for his handkerchief back. It just didn’t seem necessary.

“Hi guys! I baked brownies again!”

Everybody spun to look at a cheerful fourteen-year-old Becky Blackbell. “Yay! Brownies!” Emile cheered. He was always excited by Becky’s baking. Next to him, Ewen snorted.

“So long it’s not Anya’s mom’s recipe,” he drawled, and Becky scowled. “Do not insult my Master Yor! Yes, her cooking is horrendous, but I respect her!”

“It’s alright, Becky.” Thirteen-year-old Anya grinned at Becky. “Ma’s cooking is really bad. You can just say it.”

Damian, the ever-practical one in their group, had a question. “Blackbell, those brownies sound great, but we’re sitting on the grass and we don’t have plates or forks…”

Anya huffed dramatically. “Heh, have you rich people never heard of eating from their hands?” She nudged Damian’s ribs. “You always say I’m a moron, but maybe you’re the moron.”

Damian’s cool composure extinguished and he blushed. “H-hey! I’m just concerned about hygiene!”

Becky shook her head at her two friends, amused but a little tired of their antics. “Geez! Just use your handkerchiefs or something.” She took out a brownie and placed it in Emile’s outstretched handkerchief. The rest of them quickly followed suit. The small group of teenagers enjoyed their snack under the sun. Then Ewen noticed something.

“Oi Boss! Why is there an “A” on your handkerchief?”

The five of them stared at the embroidered pink “A” on Damian’s handkerchief. He’d been using it ever since they could remember, and it was well-kept and clean even after all these years. “Oh, it’s the “A” in Damian,” he replied automatically. Then he actually thought about it and wrinkled his nose. “Wait, that’s not really it.”

“Speaking of which, Anya, I never understood why there’s a golden “D” on your handkerchief,” Becky piped up. “I always thought it was the “D” in Loid.”

Again, ever since they could remember, Anya had been carrying around a high-quality silk handkerchief. They all noted it and accepted it as reality but never questioned it. Now that Becky brought it up, it did seem odd. 

Damian and Anya, who were sitting next to each other, compared their handkerchiefs. With the high-quality handkerchief embroidered with a “D” and the ordinary-quality handkerchief embroidered with an “A”, the truth was suddenly obvious. Anya and Damian had somehow swapped handkerchiefs.

Becky, of course, started cooing. “Oooh! You guys never told me you swapped handkerchiefs! That’s cute!”

Damian frowned. “We didn’t swap. I’ve always had this one.” Then he paused. They definitely switched them but Damian couldn’t remember how or why. It must have been a long time ago… in his distant memories of being a spoiled child… Damian shuddered at the cringe.

Anya started to speak, brownie crumbs spilling out of her mouth. Damian instinctively brushed them off with his finger (the motion was now familiar to him). “Don’t speak with your mouth full, dummy!” He scolded her. Anya just rolled her eyes but swallowed to oblige him. 

“Remember that Tornitus Bolt lady who terrorized the school?”

“Oh, the old hag who got sacked three years ago?” The others replied in unison. 

“I don’t remember clearly but I think she was checking our bags. It was probably in first or second year? And she talked about this horror story of not having a handkerchief. Mr… Mr something, I don’t know.”

Everybody’s faces were scrunched up as they thought deeply. “Mr Pants,” Ewen thought out loud. Emile’s eyes lit up. “Mr Pee Pants! That’s the guy!” 

“Yeah…” Anya’s eyes trailed down to the two handkerchiefs. “I guess we mixed them up somehow. And we never switched back so we think it’s always been ours.”

There was a pause. Damian ran a thumb over the embroidered “A”. “... I don’t think we’re gonna switch back?”

“Nah,” Anya agreed. “I’ve had this for so long it’s just been mine.”

Mine. The word tingled in Damian’s heart and he flushed. He instantly stuffed his mouth with more brownies to distract himself. 

“It’s funny,” Damian said out loud (after he finished chewing, of course). “We’ve known each other since first year but we’ve forgotten so many things from when we were six…”

“I still remember Anya punching you in my defence,” Becky replied with a smirk. “Best moment from when I was six. Second only to seeing Loid in person for the first time.”

Damian groaned. “Of course I remember that.” And he remembered what came after, Anya with her sad crying face and puffy cheeks and cute smiles… Damian wanted to scream. Sometimes he felt like he’d never really changed. Anya was precious to him then, and she was precious to him now, if not even more. 

Damian could feel Anya gazing at him. She’d always done that so he stopped being unnerved by that a long time ago. But this time when he spun to look at her, she wasn’t looking at him. In fact, she was determinedly staring at her (his?) handkerchief.

Cute, Damian thought to himself absentmindedly.

(If he looked a little longer, he would’ve seen that her cheeks might have gotten slightly pinker.)

Chapter Text

Damian glared at his history textbook like it was his worst nemesis. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, too bad he was stuck preparing for a history test inside the school library. Well, at least he had Anya— his girlfriend— next to him. Anya said she was always more awake when studying with Damian than studying alone (which he took as a compliment). Damian liked having her too. Even if her presence was… distracting, it brought a lot more joy to the usually mundane task. 

Damian ran a finger over the lines on his book and sighed. He barely remembered the names from the last chapter and now he had to study the causes and resolutions of some coup. His eyebrows automatically scrunched together. He still had a lot to work on if he wanted to get a good grade and impress Father—

Then he felt Anya’s stare on him.

He turned. She was gazing at him with her chin propped on her hand, a beam on her face. Her eyes were sparkling. Tendrils of pink hair framed her face, making her look even cuter. Damian’s hands started to sweat. “W-what are you looking at?” He mumbled. 

“Heh, you’re cool when you look all serious.” Anya imitated Damian’s studious expression, from the eyebrows to the way his tense lips pressed against each other. “You look mature for once, haha.”

Damian bristled. “Hey!”

“But I do like that face.” Anya grinned up at him, giving him that special smile she only showed to him. “I like you!”

Pink rose on his cheeks and Damian’s heart thumped erratically. He really was no better than he was when he was six. “You’re distracting me!” He huffed. “O-one of us is trying to study here!”

“But studying is soooo boring,” Anya complained. “Hey, you should study me instead.” She shifted so she could lay her head against Damian’s shoulder. And Damian felt like he was going to burst.

Fine. Two could play the game. If she was making him flustered, then he would make her flustered as payback. 

Damian smirked. “Ha, guess you won’t need this then.” He casually took Anya’s pencil from her fingers, used it to boop her nose (the way she got cross-eyed was still endearing), and resumed reading like nothing had happened. 

Now a blush was also rising on Anya’s cheeks. “Hey! My Bondman pencil! Give it back!”

Damian nonchalantly held it out of reach, and Anya scowled. A split second later, a devious smile appeared on her face. She began to inch closer and closer to Damian with her best puppy eyes (that always worked on him). Her hands clutched the soft fabric of his Imperial Scholar’s robe. “Give my pencil back, you idiot…” she mumbled cutely. 

Damian’s blood was lit on fire and his face was tomato red now. That girl! Always utilising my weakness! He thought crossly. He knew it was a facade. Anya was cute, but she was not the whole “big innocent eyes with shy trembling voice” cute. She was mischievous and witty. She knew how to get to him. He could almost see the cheeky glint in her eyes under her cutesy act. Even as Damian’s heart pounded, he knew he couldn’t give her that satisfaction.

“Alright, since you asked sooo nicely,” he drawled. With Anya close to his chest, he stretched out an arm around her and placed the pencil on her side of the desk. He used this opportunity to wrap his arms and his robe around her (which he knew she liked). While she was still confused, he gave her head a quick head pat. She flushed immediately, and a smug smile quirked on his lips. 

“I can make you flustered too, Sy-on!” She declared even as he felt her body warmth through his robe. “Get ready for my awesomeness!”

“Hmm? I’ll like to see you try—“

Anya leaned forward and fell into the hug, her shorter arms embracing him. Damian’s heartbeat sped up again and he was absolutely certain she could hear it. That sneaky little…! She was so soft and small in his arms, so cuddly and cute… not to mention her head was the right height for him to rest his chin. He could smell her strawberry shampoo and it was a little dizzying. 

“Heh, Damian, you’re warm…” Anya cooed, her voice slightly muffled by the layers of fabric. Damian was still irrationally flustered when his real name fell out of her lips. “Must be because of me… hehe…”

Damian couldn’t even find the words to argue. It felt like his tongue was tied up with sugary sweet candy floss. He raised a hand and gently tucked a lock of Anya’s hair behind her ear, making sure to prolong their physical contact as long as possible. Anya made a small “eep!” of surprise and elation blossomed in Damian’s heart. Anya was rarely surprised by Damian, so he got unreasonably happy when she did. 

“That’s so unfair, Sy-on Boy…” she grumbled against his chest. He raised his hand to start stroking her hair, but he suddenly felt her fingers lace through his. Oh no, she could feel his sweaty palms! They were now holding hands and cuddling. Their intensely close proximity was genuinely making Damian a little lightheaded. Absentmindedly, he started rubbing little circles on Anya’s hand. He’d expected her skin to be soft and smooth, but they were surprisingly calloused. She didn’t seem like the type to do manual labour. Was she helping her parents around the house? 

Anya was quiet for a bit. Then she mumbled, “Can you look at me for a sec?”

“Huh? Sure.”

Damian looked down at Anya. Anya looked up at Damian. Her cheeks were a beautiful shade of pink and he swallowed. Even though Damian looked and felt like a fried tomato in the sun, he didn’t back away from Anya’s gaze. There was something so captivating in those forest green eyes of hers, especially now when the usual cheekiness was replaced by something softer, something fonder… 

Then she leaned forward and her lips brushed against his.

Damian almost fell out of his chair.

“HUH???!!” He positively screamed in his head as every braincell of his immediately ceased functioning. She just— did she just— she just kissed him— and—

Both of them immediately sprung apart, the kiss being too much for either of them to handle. Anya was frantically combing her hair with her fingers. Damian coughed and rubbed the back of his neck. They were both so flustered they could barely think, let alone speak. 

… He supposed in their silly war of out-flustering the other, they had somehow both lost.

“Uh… I think we should get back to studying now,” Damian peeped, the redness on his cheeks stubbornly refusing to fade.

“Yep!” Anya’s squeak was high-pitched.

Damian frantically flipped through the pages. “Let’s see! We-we were on page 394… about the coup and all that…”

Damian could feel Anya was inching close to him again. She quietly took his hand and held it under the desk. Warmth gushed out from his heart like a fountain. She really was so endearing and loveable. How on Earth did he manage to convince her to go out with him?

And so the rest of the day went on, flustered faces lit by the afternoon sun.

Chapter Text

I have a strange feeling with regard to you.

As if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly knotted to a similar string in you.

And if you were to leave I'm afraid that cord of communion would snap.

And I have a notion that I'd take to bleeding inwardly.

As for you—

you'd forget me.

~ Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre

Anya still didn’t know why she was friends with Damian.

Actually, she knew why- it was for the sake of Operation Strix. Years of sitting next to Damian and chatting him up and asking him for help with history had given Anya the gift of his (peculiar, rickety, yet oddly soft) friendship and had given everybody else the wrong idea. What Anya didn’t understand was why Damian agreed to be friends with her- sure, she had a few Stellar Stars, but she wasn’t academically intelligent in the conventional sense. She was also from a middle class family, which meant she wasn’t even included in Eden Academy’s social pyramid. Damian would reap no benefit from being friends with Anya, and oftentimes he grumbled at her, yet they were friends anyway.

Weird. 

Anya didn’t feel like they shared much in common other than being stuck in the same classroom for a couple years. Damian liked steak and caviar and lobster, Anya was content with omurice and hot cocoa. Damian read books in his spare time, Anya watched cartoons. Damian’s favourite subject was history, hers was literature (they shared a common distaste for biology even though Damian excelled in that subject as always). And worst of all, his father was working towards war and destruction and her father was stopping him for world peace. Their families (and Anya to an extent) were furiously feuding behind the scenes while Damian remained completely oblivious to it all. (Becky often said she was “oblivious to Damian’s feelings”- whatever that meant. Geez, tell that to the mind reader! Anya was perfectly aware of Damian’s feelings. Or at least, that was what she thought.)

“You’re such a messy eater,” Damian groaned as they had lunch together with Becky. He automatically reached over to wipe demi-glace sauce off Anya’s cheek with his napkin. Anya, long used to his fussing, dutifully stayed put. Becky, also long used to their antics, stopped sending them inquisitive looks. 

Yet another difference. Etiquette. Damian (and Becky, and all of her other classmates) knew how to use the five hundred different forks and how to cut steak. Loid still scolded Anya for holding her spoon wrongly (come on, how could you hold a spoon in the wrong way?). Anya didn’t think she would ever fit with the upper class folks, but here she was sitting with the chairman’s son and the daughter of the Blackbells. 

Anya rolled her eyes. “Geez, Sy-on boy, why do you care so much if there’s food on my face? It’s not like I’m going to one of those high-class parties with you.”

Damian flushed. “Shut up! It’s not like I want to go to any of the parties with your STUPID FACE anyways! They’re not meant for you, peasant!” 

Another reminder of their different classes. Damian often boasted about his father’s wealth (which was built on weapons of mass destruction and bribery, not that Anya knew how to break that to him). Damian liked talking about the multi-course meals he had at expensive restaurants, his numerous yachts and ponies, vacationing at exotic places, and the ludicrous amount of jewelry he inherited from his mother which would be reserved for his future wife (Becky always sniggered and nudged Anya whenever someone brought it up. Anya was confused). Anya could only boast about how cool her parents were even if she had to hide their identities, which meant nobody believed in her stories. Yes, Anya really did stop a bomb from killing her Pa. She also passed her Ma her daggers while on a luxury cruise. Anya also helped Pa recover the stolen painting from the great museum raid a few months ago. When the Thorn Princess was almost caught, it was Anya who secretly passed information to Ma to help her escape. Anya had also saved Damian from assassins approximately six times now (not that he knew of it). It was frustrating not being able to boast about her amazing achievements that would’ve surely propelled her to Imperial Scholar status. 

“Damian, don’t call Anya’s face stupid,” Becky told him in a plain tone that indiacted she wasn’t angry, just tired of Damian’s immaturity. “I know you think our Anya’s cute.” When Damian opened his mouth, Becky immediately shut him up by saying, “You’re going to protest so I’m gonna change the topic. I heard from the other class that we’re getting our math test back after lunch.”

Upon hearing that, Damian and Anya both groaned. “I can’t fail that test!” Anya squeaked. “My average can’t drop any more!”

Meanwhile, Damian was grabbing fistfuls of his hair. “I studied so hard for that test! I don’t have any excuse this time! I’m so screwed!” He screamed.

Becky rolled her eyes. “C’mon guys, you two are the hardworking ones! You’re the ones that actually have Stellar Stars! I’m sure you guys will be fine.”

“That’s the point, Blackbell! We gave it our all! And this test will show us that even our best is not enough!”

Becky sniffed. “Damian, you have such a weird mentality. My dad always tells me to be content if we did our very best.”

“My dad would never say that,” Damian grumbled, his cheeks red with agitation. He hastily shoved some food in his mouth. “Always gotta do more. Never good enough. Always in Demetrius’ shadow.”

The girls were silent. Damian had complained about his brother so many times that they didn’t even know what to say anymore. Not that he expected advice. Damian just wanted to let someone know of his struggles, and the girls offered an ear.

Anya awkwardly patted Damian’s shoulder (he used to choke when she did that, but not anymore). “Hey, it’s alright, I understand! My dad’s very stressed with work lately soooo I don’t want to make him worried… I’m also scared about the test…”

The two had been studying together in the library for their math test. Anya was old enough to know how to take the bus home, and Damian lived on campus, so it wasn’t much of an issue. (He did walk her to the bus station when it got dark out of courtesy. Or maybe he had other reasons; Anya didn’t read his mind during their walks.) Studying math for too long completely drained their brain power. Anya had babbled on and on about geometry and trigonometry until Damian had to shut her up by stuffing chocolate in her mouth. 

“I just don’t understand!” Anya glared at her textbook. “How are we supposed to figure this out in five minutes when it took the two of us twenty minutes to find that stupid angle!”

Damian was sprawled on the desk, his usually combed hair now a mess (and it looked fluffier than usual. Anya liked fluffy things, hehe.) “I’ve got no idea,” he deadpanned. “I think I should start arranging for my funeral. Anya, please be there to spread my ashes. My sanity depends on you now.”

(Anya liked it when Damian was so tired from math that his mouth lost its usual rude filter. He finally said what he thought instead of lying all the time.)

Anya and Damian surprisingly got along when it came to academics. Sure, everybody at Eden wanted to become an Imperial Scholar, but not many were willing to put in the effort. As for Damian and Anya, they were motivated by fear and their immense desire for validation; Damian feared his father’s disapproval, Anya feared war. They both wanted validation for their hard work, whether from their families or their peers. Damian in particular was instructed to establish good connections with the “right” people (Anya doubted she was one of those people, but Damian did seem to like her most out of everyone). And Anya also wanted to impress Damian or at least prove she was worthy of his company. After all, Operation Strix came above everything. (However, Anya recently realized it didn’t quite feel right to simplify her and Damian’s friendship to one for the mission. She just couldn’t explain it.)

So somehow or other, they put their heads together, two kids against the harsh tests set by their demanding school. Sure, they aggravated each other, but that only proved to be a welcome distraction. Their sharp edges rubbed on each other in the right ways, and they shared enough similarities to ease their friction. To say they balanced each other out was generous. It was more like they were both slightly unhinged and only they could hold up to the other’s energy. Whenever Damian started to spiral into his pit of doom, Anya would distract him by starting a thumb war (she could perfectly read his facial expressions without needing to read his mind). In return, Damian would buy her snacks and drinks. His shoulder was also nice to lean on whenever she needed a nap. 

Damian’s voice jolted Anya out of her thoughts. “Great, now I’ve lost my appetite because of the test,” he moodily grumbled. “My stomach’s in a whirl.”

“You need to eat,” Becky said sensibly. “Or you’ll only feel worse.”

“Yes Mom,” Damian drawled. 

“You too, Anya.”

Anya hadn’t realized she had been spacing out. Becky reached over and squeezed her hand with a warm smile. Anya returned the smile. Becky was always there to reel her in whenever she and Damian started having doomsday thoughts. Damian was looking depressed again, so Anya repeated Becky’s gesture with his hand. For once, Damian didn’t shrink away from her touch. A wave of butterflies blossomed in Anya’s stomach which she assumed was from the stress (but that didn’t seem quite right). 

Thankfully, Anya did decently on the test (for her standards). A huge red “85%” was circled next to her name, and Anya’s nerves fluttered off her like a second skin. And she didn’t even need to cheat this time! Pa would be proud. All the tutors W.I.S.E had invested in wouldn’t go to waste. And Uncle Yuri would be happy as well. Anya could maintain her precarious status quo. Anya was caught up in her own personal happiness, but that didn’t mean she forgot about her partner in the academic war. Once the lesson was over, Anya searched for Damian, but his familiar figure was nowhere to be seen. A quick scan revealed his thoughts weren’t among the sea of students. Concern rising in her throat, Anya ran off to find her friend.

It was easy to locate Damian. She knew him well, plus she had an excellent memory of the best hiding spots in Eden (thanks to the numerous assassination attempts). She found him crouched behind a statue of some obscure old man no one cared about. His test paper on the ground was neatly folded, which was in sharp contrast to the fabric balled up in his shaky fists. A tear slid off his puffy cheeks.

“Hey, Damian,” Anya tried. (She knew he always paid attention when she used his real name.)

“I failed,” Damian blubbed. He gave a huge sniff. (Damian hated showing weakness in front of the other kids, but somehow didn’t mind when it came to Anya.) “Except I didn’t fail the test- that would’ve made Father mad. No, no, no. This grade- this grade won’t do anything. Father won’t be impressed. Father won’t even be angry. He just won’t…” he swallowed, “care. At all.” 

Anya reached out and gently unfolded the offending piece of paper. A “82%” was printed on top. “But that’s good!” She gasped, genuine.

“It’s not 95%,” Damian replied bitterly. “It’s not even 85%. This will be a blot on my academic record. And I studied so hard for this one too. I’m gonna die.”

Instinctively, Anya reached out to hug Damian. He fell into her arms, still sniffing. They both understood the sheer pressure crushing them alive. They understood the high stakes imposed on them. For Damian, living up to his brother was the purpose of his whole life. For Anya, she was the miracle child agent of W.I.S.E who had the honour of being trained by Twilight. They understood each other even with the layers of secrets and identities they donned. They sat together like that for a while, their presence comforting the other.

… Anya had always thought she and Damian were very different. But now, with his head nestled in her shoulder, she abruptly realized in the end, they understood each other like no one could. They weren’t cut from the same cloth, but they experienced similar fears and worries. Even though Anya had done well, she perfectly knew what Damian was going through. He was there to comfort her too, when it was her turn to fail. They were two smart children who reverted to being five around each other, yet they carried the worries of young adults. So young, but so much to care about. 

It took a few minutes for Damian to recover. He wiped his eyes and took deep breaths. “Okay, I’m good now. Thanks, Anya.” Anya stood up and extended her hand. He accepted and she helped him up. He swallowed. Her heart thumped.

… If she and Damian were so similar after all, Anya idly wondered, did he feel it? The butterflies that didn’t appear to be from stress. The weird aftertaste in her mouth when she said they were “friends”. The budding warmth from their library days when she shifted closer to him. Did he ever feel something like that?

Did he feel it too, something similar tugging on the strings of his heart? 

Chapter Text

Contrary to what Becky thought, Anya did not like Damian Desmond.

Becky had once foolishly suggested that Anya might “love” Damian. How ridiculous! Anya loved Pa and Ma. She loved Bond, cartoons, and peanuts. She might even say she loved Becky. “Love” could not be further from the truth when it came to Damian. Sure, there were some people Anya liked, like Franky and Uncle Yuri if he wasn’t being too weird. There were also some people Anya tolerated, like Henderson and her gloomy classmate George (yes, even George was more bearable than that Sy-on boy). 

But Damian?

He was annoying and arrogant. He looked down on literally everybody, but he was especially mean towards Anya for seemingly no reason. Anya had tried so hard to pacify him by helping him, but she just made it worse. Damian, who was born with a silver spoon in his mouth, who never faced anybody who went against him. Damian, who called her a peasant and said she was ugly and stupid. In his eyes, she was a runt, a shrimp, a devil with those horns, and more that she couldn’t bother remembering. (She pretended those insults didn’t hurt. Sometimes they did.)

At first, she wanted to befriend him for the mission, but she was getting tired. Anya might wish for world peace, but she had her dignity to guard. Why did she have to grovel at his feet when he was the one being a jerk? Why did she have to put in all the effort when he put in none? And why was she supposed to be nice to someone who was terrible to her?

Sy-on boy’s mean to me, so I hate him, Anya thought to herself.

And that wasn’t even the worst part. 

The worst part was that Damian was nice some of the time. 

Like when he caught that dodgeball for her, then immediately proceeded to insult her. And when he purposefully lost she could have that legendary macaron. Or when it was raining and he held her hand to comfort her despite him being scared. And every time that happened, Anya’s mind would stop working because this was so different from the Sy-on boy she knew. Was he nice after all? Could they actually be friends?

Of course it never lasted, because he would grumble and make fun of Anya just as she was having second thoughts. Soon she stopped having second thoughts. Damian was a jerk most of the time, and just because he was occasionally decent didn’t mean he wasn’t a jerk. 

It would be easier to hate him completely. It would be easier to see him as a generic rich kid who despised commoners. Except he did help her when she needed it most, not to mention he sometimes thought she was cute (not that he would say it out loud). Damian absolutely baffled her, thus she hated him even more for the extra layer of confusion. 

Anya glared at the gaggle of kids constantly surrounding Damian. He was so aggravating, yet so popular. Her classmates (except her beloved Becky) all wanted attention from the second son of the chairman. It wasn’t because he had a charming personality, it was only because he happened to be born in a powerful family. Heh, Anya bet that his family was the only reason people actually wanted to be around Damian, because who could tolerate his spitefulness?! Anya sure couldn’t. 

Who actually likes Damian Desmond? Anya scornfully thought to herself. It was meant as a rhetorical question, a way for her to vent out her frustration with Plan B, but suddenly Anya remembered something she’d heard from the beginning of the school year. Her classmates were excitedly proclaiming that they owed a lot to the Desmond faction, and thus wanted to be friends with him. A little doubt seeped into her heart. Were they only friends because their families wanted them to? 

So Anya decided to do a little investigating. During break time, she sat perfectly still in her seat and started scanning the thoughts of her classmates. Damian was once again boasting about some trip he went on during the weekend, and many were listening with rapt attention. They appropriately gasped at the right parts. Anya directed her focus over there.

“Ugh, I don’t like how he’s rubbing his wealth in our faces but my daddy says we have to be friends so…”

“I wanna go outside and play ball but I have to make sure Damian likes me.”

“I wonder what Vincent’s gonna do in the next episode… oh huh, we’re all clapping. I have to clap too.”

“I’m so jealous of him, urgh…”

“He’s kinda cute but he’s mean, so I don’t want to marry him despite what my dad’s suggesting.”

Anya started internally sniggering. Heh, she wasn’t the only one who disliked Sy-on boy! Others felt the same as her, but none of them had her guts. Anya smirked to herself, suddenly very self-satisfied with her determination to openly snub Damian. At least she wasn’t concealing her dislike! 

But as the days passed by, unease started twisting in Anya’s stomach. Sure, many of her classmates also thought her stories were stupid, but at least they said it to her face. All those “friends” of Damian oohed and ahhed at every word he spoke even if they weren’t paying attention at all. Anya tried to imagine if people did the same to her. Without her mind reading powers, would she be able to tell who was genuine? Damian sure couldn’t because he was too stuck up, his ego too inflated. He just ate up their hollow praise and grinned like he really was the prince of the whole world.

Sy-on boy is so stupid, Anya absentmindedly thought to herself. I’m not as stupid as he is. 

Her curiosity and spite replaced by a bit of anxiety, Anya hunted through her classmates to extract their opinions of Damian. “Ugh, he won’t play with us because he’s busy studying! What a stuck up.” “He’s always so rude to the commoners, I mean they’re commoners but they don’t deserve it.” “If I hear him mention his dad one more time I WILL punch him in the nose.” “Why are his grades so good? I bet his family bribed the school.” “He made Anya cry in arts and crafts! He doesn’t have to be so mean.” “Ughh, here comes Damian again. Time to smile.”

… Wow, some of them might even be harsher than Anya. Interesting, Anya thought to herself, but now she was finding less and less joy in the situation. Finding out the truth about what her classmates thought of her Sy-on boy didn’t seem so fun after all. 

It appeared that everybody approached Damian with ulterior motives. And, as Anya suddenly realized, she was exactly the same. Many commoners sucked up to him because they wanted his favour (and perhaps grab a bit of cash). Anya, with her ego, foolishly thought she was better than them. But no, she wanted to be friends with him because of Operation Strix and world peace. It was nothing personal. Just like everyone else, Anya Forger was a liar. And just like everyone else, her intentions were impure. 

(If only she knew Damian actually liked her the most out of the bunch. And if only Damian knew she too, was only befriending him because she was obliged to, not because she liked him.)

… In the end, the vast majority of the crowd that surrounded Damian were either jealous of him or were forced to become friends with him. Yet from Damian’s point of view, he was making excellent connections and comfortably sat in the position of the most popular boy in their year. His throne was built on lies and the inherited wealth from his father. Anya didn’t know how to break it to him, so she didn’t. Damian continued to live out his happy life with his fake friends.

Of course there were Ewen and Emile, his two loyal buddies. They, at least, seemed genuinely attached to their Boss-man and furiously supported whatever he did. However, judging from their thoughts, those two would forever put their family above everything else. Even if they did end up liking Damian, it was due to their families that they befriended him in the first place. And if the Desmonds were revealed to be aggressors secretly funding the war, being friends with any of the Desmonds would surely ruin their families’ reputations. Anya wished she could say Emile and Ewen would stick with Damian no matter what, but she knew how important family was. Anya couldn’t blame them. (She would also do the same in their case… or at least she believed she would. She loved her own family to death.)

Family. Yet another thing Anya was blessed with and Damian seemed to struggle with. He didn’t talk about it much, so Anya learned most of it from his thoughts. His father, of course, didn’t care about him. Damian often emphasized he needed to earn his father’s respect in order for the man to even look at him. His brother was a little distant, but he did seem decent towards Damian. Demetrius was ten years older than Damian, and was kept very, very busy with studies so he barely had time to look after Damian. According to the rumours, he would leave the region to work somewhere far away once he graduated. Yet another family member moving away from Damian. Damian’s mother had also tragically passed two years ago, and Damian admitted that he couldn’t remember much of her. (That struck a little too close to home for Anya, but at least she had her own Ma and that honestly made up for it.) Damian thought of his family butler Jeeves very fondly, but Anya couldn’t help but wonder if Jeeves was involved in the entire Donovan Desmond world domination thing. If he wasn’t, would he leave the family in disgust once he found out? Would he leave Damian behind? 

Damian tried to hide it, but she knew he was constantly stressed about his grades. He always made it like the slightest slipup would cost him his life. He was sweating buckets over a handkerchief! Not to mention the way blood would drain from his face whenever he made a mistake. He was so insecure about his place in his family. It was sad. 

… It made Anya sad.

She wondered what would happen once the truth about the Desmonds came out. Would his brother swoop in to take care of him, or would he be occupied with his own affairs? Would his relatives throw him under the bus? Would W.I.S.E interrogate him, or would the police do it? Would anyone at school still be friends with him? Would anyone defend him? Would anyone care?

…

…

Anya knew the answer, but it somehow left her feeling cold.

And she watched him laugh from across the room, careless and oblivious, and wondered how much longer he could keep on laughing like that. 

Sensing her sudden gaze, he met her eyes and prepared to throw an insult. He opened his mouth, then abruptly shut it. As if caught off guard by her solemn and almost pitying expression, he flinched. 

Then she turned away and he turned away, because they weren’t friends, and he disliked her and she disliked him, and that was the way it was. 

Who would look out for him when the world came crashing down?

Anya clenched her fist, an odd ache in her heart. 

… Maybe Anya would. Just maybe. 

Chapter Text

And the tennis court was covered up with some tent-like thing

And you asked me to dance but I said, 

"Dancing is a dangerous game"

Oh, I thought this is gonna be one of those things

Now I know

I'm never gonna love again.

Anya Forger, aged twenty-five, thought her life was somewhat stable. Sure, she was a spy for W.I.S.E., and her parents were working elsewhere, but at least the world wasn’t doomed. Donovan Desmond was rotting in jail, her parents were still in love, Anya’s cover as a psychiatrist was working perfectly, the sun was shining, and everything was fine in the world. 

Except she was somehow working in the same town as Damian Desmond, the bane of her existence and her ex-boyfriend from ten years ago.

It was absolutely ridiculous how they were still in the same social circles. Anya thought she wouldn’t be going to university, but Twilight insisted on having a backup career path in case being a spy didn’t work out. Damian probably thought he would never see her again after their graduation from Eden (and after their breakup), but they both ended up in Berlint University. They drifted apart, but then mutual friends brought them together, and they couldn’t drift apart even if they tried. Damian was just an annoying constant in Anya’s life whom she happened to share history with. They had known each other for so long (had it really been twenty years?) that they didn’t even bother anymore. It was just the way it was. 

After Becky, Damian used to be Anya’s best friend at school. They were casual rivals, study buddies, highschool sweethearts, everything in between, then nothing at all. Damian was a complete stranger yet anything but one. Anya tried to not think about the memories, but they came floating back in the dead of the night, teasing and taunting her. 

There was no denying the fallout had deeply wounded both of them. But somewhere along the way, instead of moping and mourning about what could’ve been, they decided it was way better to mildly antagonise the other at every opportunity. After all, it was simply too exhausting to be upset and heartbroken. So Anya the psychiatrist and Damian the civil servant snottily turned their noses up whenever they crossed paths (which was surprisingly often). Feuding with highschool exes melted into a part of their daily routine, almost as easily as they fell apart all those years ago. 

Damian specifically took a day off to queue up for Anya’s favourite apple pie at a famous bakery just so Anya wouldn’t be able to get a slice. Anya made sure to sit in front of Damian at the opera with the biggest, most obnoxious hat she could get her hands on (thanks to Becky). Whenever they queued for coffee together in cramped lines, they would always try to spill their drinks on each other (none of them ever succeeded). Upon learning Damian was visiting a museum on the weekend, Anya went and “accidentally” checked out Damian’s coat from the cloakroom (she hadn’t returned it, and he didn’t ask for it). At the biannual Eden alumni gatherings, they continuously bantered and made jabs at each other’s careers. The petty Damian-Anya feuds were a great source of entertainment (and second-hand embarrassment) for their old classmates. Of course, on rare occasions they did team up, such as when Becky’s boyfriend cheated on her and the dysfunctional duo worked with frightening efficiency to exact revenge. Their temporary truce was immediately broken when Damian’s wallet went missing, then returned next morning with a cheeky note that said “Thanks for sponsoring my peanuts!”.

Like every other spy, Anya led two lives. She was Agent Starlight, a rising star in the espionage scene, taught by the best of the best and looked after by W.I.S.E. since early childhood. Recommended by both Agent Twilight and Agent Nightfall, Starlight was sent on important missions to retrieve intelligence via her unique mind-reading skills. Just because the Desmond threat was eliminated didn’t mean world peace was guaranteed. Starlight, although hilariously blunt and unconventional, was well-respected in W.I.S.E.. She’d done what most of them could only dream to accomplish. 

And then she was Dr. Anya Forger, a psychiatrist. A witty but clumsy young woman, the best friend of a certain Miss Blackbell, and an avid lover of dogs. Her hobbies included watching films, irritating Damian Desmond, and irritating Damian Desmond again. She lived in a small but charming apartment. Neighbours often wondered why a nice young lady like her was single. Other than that, there was nothing out of the ordinary or dangerous about her. 

All things considered, Anya felt like she could separate her two lives relatively well. As much as she hated it, she could practically lie to Becky with her eyes closed. Growing up in a family of liars did that to one. Although Anya had been personally involved in the arrest of Damian’s father, her interactions with Damian were limited to sniping at each other at crossroads. He would comment on her scarf, she would grumble about his hair, then they would move on. 

Until Damian Desmond strode into the W.I.S.E. headquarters one day, Handler right behind him. 

“Handler, this isn’t the interrogation room…” Anya’s voice trailed off as she realized Damian was wearing a crisp suit resembling Twilight’s. Anya, ever witty, connected the dots without needing to read minds. “Oh. Oh.” 

“Good afternoon, Agent Starlight,” Handler greeted like she just hadn’t given Anya the shock of her life. 

Anya casually leaned back on her chair. “Heh, is Mr. Civil Servant a spy now? Didn’t realize you would go to such lengths to bother me. It’s cute.”

“It’s senator now,” Damian corrected her cooly. He stubbornly refused to meet Anya’s stare. “And I was recruited by W.I.S.E. because I was recently promoted. I’ll be in contact with powerful people.”

“Of course,” Anya drawled. “Of course Desmond’s second son is a spy and of course it’s kept a secret from me.”

“You could’ve read my mind when we were lining up at Bertie’s Bakery on Thursday,” Damian replied airly. “After all, why waste that special talent of yours?”

“Children, children,” Handler cut in with a warning tone. “Agent Midnight’s recruitment was kept a secret from other agents due to security concerns. Midnight has proven to be a valuable asset to us-”

“An ass, you mean,” Anya muttered under her breath. Damian pretended not to have heard. 

“-however, extracting information would simply be too difficult for a single agent. Agent Starlight, this is when your skill set comes in.”

Anya raised an eyebrow. “Heh, so I’ll infiltrate a gathering of rich people or something? Sure, I can do that. I can be the arm candy hanging onto Damian—“

Handler sighed, no doubt wishing Twilight or the Thorn Princess was there to talk to Anya. “We appreciate your enthusiasm, Starlight, but we’re going for a more long-term strategy. You will marry Agent Midnight and act as his wife in social events.”

Anya fell off her chair with a crash. Damian simply sighed.

“Handler, this isn’t funny given how my dad had the same task,” Anya grumbled from the floor.

“I am not trying to be funny,” Handler stated, her expression as stoic as ever. “And Twilight’s mission was a great success. This is an important task and I hope you take it seriously for the sake of the world.” 

Anya’s eyes flickered to Damian’s. Damian swallowed and turned away. “You knew,” she accused, her heart lurching.

“Three days before you did,” Damian retorted. 

Handler exhaled. “I’ll leave you two to it.” Then she stepped out of the room, leaving the newly engaged exes alone. Anya dragged herself up on her chair while Damian sat down. “How are we going to convince everyone?” She groaned, her question only half-rhetorical. 

Damian instantly took out a heavy file and began flipping through the pages. Ever practical and ever prepared, Damian was treating this like a group project back in Eden. He was still the studious boy in the library, except his features were harsher and illuminated by cold lights instead of the afternoon sun. It was familiar— unnerving, but familiar. “So everyone we know is aware we dated, then broke up. But considering we see each other every week in town, we can make this believable. Something about slowly falling for each other again over the years. I’ve made a list of high-priority people to convince— my uncle, my brother, Blackbell, and so on.” 

Anya poked at the file moodily. “I still want to know how you got here, Midnight. Did you volunteer?”

“I was asked,” Damian replied shortly. “Then I accepted.”

“Given your past history with W.I.S.E., I can’t say I expected this.”

Damian’s cold glare pierced through her. “Not everything is about you, you know?”

Ah shit. She’d made the atmosphere tense. Anya swallowed the bitter emotions rising in her throat. She had to work with Damian for the sake of the mission. “I apologize that you’re stuck with me. Sorry that you can’t canoodle with the other pretty girls anymore.”

Damian sharply inhaled, and she could tell he was trying to hold it together. “I do not— I’m not a womanizer. I’ve barely been with anyone. You believe those awful tabloids?”

“It doesn’t matter whether I believe them, it matters that a lot of people do, and it’ll ruin both of our reputations.”

Damian was silent. Anya reached for a glass of water and was surprised when he flinched. Of all the things she’d done, she’d never been violent towards him. She tried to think of a reason for his tense behaviour. “I won’t read your mind. I only read minds when it comes to missions.”

“You said it yourself. I’m your mission. I’m not exempt from your moral bullshit or whatever.”

Anya hummed, drowning the twinge of sadness in her eyes by staring at her glass. “You don’t trust me.”

Damian uncomfortably shifted. He looked like he was about to reply, but he didn’t. Anya sighed. “Yeah, fine, I expected that.” 

If Damian had trust issues, Anya was sure a lot of it had to do with her. Her and her esper identity and her secretive parents and her missions. It was all a mess, and Anya had no idea how to fix it (if it could ever be fixed), but at least he knew most of her truth now (keyword: most).

The silence dragged on. They inspected and dissected their fake relationship-slash-marriage like a frog for science class. A date here, talking to relatives there, a careful meeting with Becky, prospective wedding dates, another date there. It was all clinical and logical, no emotions attached. They worked efficiently, almost too efficiently. They could talk up a way to prevent a nuclear war and make no progress on their relationship or alliance or whatever they had now. It was suffocating, but what else could they do? 

They decided to take it slow. It would be immensely suspicious if Damian got himself a wife mere months after he became a senator. And nobody would believe it if they immediately went from bitter exes to lovebirds (especially when they’d spent ten years fighting). Slowly, they stopped taunting each other in public. Damian and Anya were spotted amiably chatting in cafés. A curious Becky asked them what was going on and they gave deliberately ambiguous replies to make their relationship more tantalising. Maybe if they made it obvious they liked each other but were furiously denying it, people would root for them more (after all, that was what happened before they got together at Eden). 

Damian could feel W.I.S.E. agents giving him looks whenever he walked into their headquarters, and who could blame them? He was the infamous son of their ex-target, and everybody at W.I.S.E. knew the story of how their Agent Starlight had outsmarted the eldest Desmond. They were also aware Starlight and Midnight used to be friends— or more than friends, so there was a certain awkwardness whenever both were present. In addition, although Damian was asked to be a spy, he felt incredibly underqualified. He didn’t have special skills like Anya, nor was he particularly good at disguise or being charming or fast. He’d been trained so he knew how to defend himself, but his experience just seemed pathetic compared to what everybody else had.

“You’re not doing too bad,” Anya told him tersely over coffee. Their desk was covered with papers and memos and pens, both of their handwriting scribbled on notepads. Anya carefully manoeuvred her cup away from their precious plans. It had been a few months since their mission began and it didn’t seem like anything had changed between them. 

“Did you read my mind again?” Damian replied automatically. Anya gave a slight roll of her eyes.

“You do know I can read your expressions, Midnight. As you can read mine.”

Midnight. That was who Damian was now. Anya had switched over to calling him that so easily. Of course it was easy for her. She had been a spy since her birth or something.

“For real though,” Anya added. “You haven’t spilled Twilight’s secret to anyone who’s not aware already. Even before you came here, you gave no indication you knew of our organisation.”

Damian hummed. She wouldn’t be able to get another word out of him.

“And,” Anya continued, voice softer now, “you kept my secret even when you hated me. I don’t think I’ve ever properly thanked you for that.”

Damian’s heart clenched. All those years of betrayal and pain and nostalgia rose like a wave. “I… I just didn’t know what else I could do,” he said truthfully. 

W.I.S.E. also liked pairing them up for missions, presumably so they could learn to pass as a lovey dovey couple. Damian always felt useless and he was just tagging along. Anya’s problem-solving skills were something else and he had a vague feeling he was dragging her down. However, Damian was more careful than Anya, so he’d always had multiple plans in his head and spare weapons hidden in his clothes. It didn’t appear Anya needed anything he prepared, which was both irritating and relieving.

You can live on without me, Anya. You never needed me outside of the mission, whether Strix or this one. I should be happy for you, but I’m a horrible, selfish creature. I need you. Being hated by you is better than having you out of my life. Is it bad that I want you to want me too, even if I don’t exactly want you? Also I forgot you can read minds so you probably know all of this already. 

Tonight, they were infiltrating a gang suspected of drug trafficking, which according to Anya was the “tamest” sort of crime she’d investigated (Damian didn’t want to know what else she’d witnessed). They needed to collect some evidence and then bring it back to HQ. Armed with knives and guns (instructed to hurt, not kill) and black hoods pulled over their heads, the duo sneaked inside. Anya, the one with mind reading powers, took the lead. Hidden in Anya’s shadow, Damian simultaneously felt like he was being guarded and guarding her. The years had passed, they had both grown up, but he was still forever taller than her. Once upon a time, her head was the right height for him to rest his chin on her (he didn’t dare try that anymore). 

Anya grabbed a handful of his coat and steered him towards a corner (at least Damian, almost twenty-seven, stopped behaving like a teenage boy every time she touched him). They intently listened for any noise. Then she turned to look up at him.

It was at that moment that Damian realised this was physically the closest they’d been since— since forever. Their coats were pressing against each other, Anya was sandwiched between the wall and him, and he hated how their height difference hadn’t changed much in ten years. His arm twitched with muscle memory to lift up her chin or cup her cheek, but no, she’d hurt him and he’d hurt her and she could read his mind, for God’s sake!

So he refused to look at Anya’s face (but if he did, he might realize she might be having the same thought processes as he did). 

Their operation was carried out smoothly until a snag happened at the very end. One of the goons had unexpectedly fallen asleep and when they woke up, they happened to see the two agents slip away. Sweat was forming in Damian’s palms— this was the most dangerous situation he’d ever faced, but Anya remained nonchalant. “How do we leave?” He hissed towards her, a hand on his pistol.

Anya scrunched up her face. “Let me think— MOVE!”

In an instant Anya had shoved Damian away, and a bullet was embedded in the wall right where he used to be. Before he could even breathe, more gunshots sounded and Anya grabbed Damian’s arm. She led him away efficiently like it was something she’d done hundreds of times.

“Stay put,” she mumbled as she returned the gunfire, managing to disarm two guards. One of them rushed forward, undeterred, and Anya furiously shot. She missed though, and the threat came closer and closer—

BANG!

Damian sniped the guard in his foot, and he collapsed. He vaguely knew Anya was looking at him in surprise, but he couldn’t spare any of his thoughts towards her. Not now. Grabbing onto each other, they managed to escape. They rushed towards their rendezvous point while making sure they weren’t followed. 

As they ran, Damian observed Anya carefully. She’d grabbed his arm on instinct and shut up his questions quickly like she knew he was going to ask them (of course she knew, his mind was an open book to her). Her actions to save him were like clockwork. Anya was currently communicating with W.I.S.E.. “Starlight here with Midnight— not followed, not injured, but we need transport. Yes, yes. Oh, okay. Over.”

“What was that?” Damian wheezed, his knees burning from the run. 

Anya gave a slight sigh. “A contact can drive us to the nearest train station, but we’ll have to find our way back by ourselves. Which shouldn’t be a concern—“

“—except there was a crash early in the morning and that might affect train schedules,” Damian finished her sentence. “Great.”

“We’ll manage.”

The two hopped on their assigned car (after confirming they were from the same organisation, of course). Under the cover of the night, they changed into their disguises. They were currently camping out at the back of someone’s car, which meant the driver couldn’t hear them if they kept their voices low. With dusty cargo boxes and a gaping emotional chasm between them, Damian sat and wondered how the hell they both ended up here. 

They passed by streetlights which dimly illuminated their faces. Damian spared Anya a glance and almost groaned out loud. “You got your buttons wrong.”

“Ah, did I?” The momentary light faded and everything melted into the darkness again. Anya appeared to be fiddling with something that he couldn’t see. Half-instinctively, Damian reached out and began to button her coat in the correct way. He knew Anya could easily throw him off if she wished, but she didn’t. His fingers moved slowly and gracefully, popping out each button and sliding them back in. 

(If he wasn’t so focused on steadying his breaths, he might notice she was also doing the same.)

“What are you doing anyway—“ They drove past a streetlight again, and this time Damian could see angry red skin on Anya’s exposed arm. Something flared up inside him. “You said you weren’t injured.”

Anya shrugged. “A surface scratch on the skin isn’t an injury. Believe me when I say I’ve seen worse.”

There it was again. The dark tone Anya used. How much did she know? How much did he know? And in the end, it felt like he knew nothing about the girl who swallowed up his life twenty years ago. 

“But it’s your dominant arm,” Damian said stupidly. He reached for her—

She shrunk away.

Ah.

She didn’t trust him.

She didn’t trust him the way he didn’t trust her. 

“Sorry for going overboard,” he spilled out before he could stop himself.

They were sitting in the darkness again. Damian was glad that he couldn’t see Anya’s expression. “It’s fine,” Anya said. “I would look unprofessional if my buttons were mismatched.”

Damian remembered something he thought of earlier. “Starlight (see, two could play the game), how… how many times have you saved my life like that? I know assassins were trying to kill me back in Eden.”

“I don’t remember,” Anya replied immediately. “I don’t like remembering all the times you could’ve died. But it must’ve been quite a few because it just became second nature to me.”

Damian could vaguely recall Anya suddenly asking him to go somewhere and hushing him whenever he spoke. How old had they been when the assassins started— shit, she was eight. Eight. What sort of eight year old was forced to bear the responsibility of saving a boy because she was cursed to read minds? And it had continued up until Donovan’s arrest, and probably beyond that but by then, Anya didn’t have anything to do with him anymore. One time she was so emotional she started sobbing into his chest. He had been so awkward, a fifteen year old who vaguely knew of his family’s bloodstained hands but not how to comfort a crying girl. 

She must’ve thought he could’ve died. Many times he could’ve died in front of her and she would believe it was her fault. And he remained oblivious to it all until much later. 

Anya was quiet. He idly supposed she must be reading his mind, but in the case that she wasn’t, he said out loud, “Thanks for saving me so many times back then. And also just now.”

“You saved me too.” Anya’s voice had a different edge to it that he couldn’t decipher. 

“It doesn’t make up for it.” It doesn’t make up for how I treated you. It doesn’t make up how I made you cry then refused to apologise. It doesn’t make up for the clusterfuck we have right now. 

Next time the light swung by, he saw her pale fingers trace her line of buttons like it wasn’t the cool surface she was trying to feel. 

Their next mission had even worse transport arrangements. There was a storm, a train broke down, and Damian and Anya were both stranded on a tiny train station as rain ravaged them. 

“I don’t suppose W.I.S.E. can be of any help here,” Damian snarked. 

Anya stuffed her communicator back in her pocket. “They’re telling us to wait it out because they can’t afford to send anyone here. Awesome.”

Another successful mission carried out by Agent Starlight and Agent Midnight. In Anya’s opinion, Damian was improving by leaps and bounds. His reflexes had gotten sharper and he was learning to anticipate enemy moves. She’d made sure to tell him that, professionally and coolly of course, because it wasn’t like he could read her mind. Anya supposed she was so used to Damian’s presence that she forgot one of his biggest strengths - he was a quick learner. He was almost her protégé now, much like how he took her under his wing when they were studying to become Imperial Scholars. 

Anya screwed her eyes shut. Forget about those memories. He’s not the same person he was, and you’re not the same person you were. Forget about Eden. Forget about him-

Cold water sprayed on her face. “Blergh!” Anya squinted at the downpour. The strong wind was making it rain horizontally. This station was doing an awful job of providing shelter, and there were no shops or buildings nearby. They were truly stuck there.

“The weather simply is terrible,” came Damian’s voice.

“It’s horrendous,” Anya found herself agreeing.

“I don’t want to get sick and miss the opera tomorrow,” Damian mumbled. “You know, the opera you kindly sabotaged last time when I watched it nine months ago.”

“I bet I was an excellent distraction. Or at least, the colourful peacock feathers on my hat. I had a great time though.”

“You’re a nuisance.”

“Can’t deny that.”

And now they were reverting to their teenage style of bantering to amuse themselves. Fantastic. 

The wind was like a cold knife against her cheek, and she shivered. She could hear movements next to her and she spun to see Damian take off his coat. He draped half of it on her, half of it on him. “Just don’t want you to freeze to death. Don’t get the wrong idea,” he muttered.

Huh. Anya shuffled closer to Damian, his body warmth comforting her. It was… gentlemanly for him to do that. “Your coat’s really thick,” she observed, studiously keeping her eyes trained on the rain.

Anya could hear Damian’s wry smile. “I store a lot of secret weapons in it. I guess my over-preparation finally came in handy.”

“You’re not over-preparing,” Anya found herself saying. “Twilight always says we need like fifty-six back up plans and he scolds me because I don’t like preparing.” 

“That’s because you’re too good at your job.”

“Only because of casual child experimentation, heh.”

… Damian was one of the few people who knew of Anya’s background. She’d trusted him with her most vulnerable part, but she hadn’t told him everything (that was reserved for her parents). While Damian might not feel the most comfortable around an esper, he didn’t go around blabbing her trauma either. He was distrustful of her and her powers, but he never used her backstory as ammunition against her. That was an unthinkable line to cross. 

Again, Anya did feel at fault. Damian learned his girlfriend was getting close to him because she needed access to his father for world peace, and apparently she’d been “scheming” since they’d met. Which was practically the entirety of Damian’s life. Of course he would look at her like she was a wholly different person. And Anya could’ve handled things more delicately. Perhaps she should have rejected him and continued being friends- would that soften the blow or make it worse? And maybe she could’ve worded her explanation better. She also wasn’t able to be with him when he needed it most; she’d chosen world peace over him. He understood her rational decision, but it also pained and transformed him. When they met again half an era later, he was cold, guarded, and traumatised. They were both wrong, but their emotions were both justified. The young agent and the son of her target could hardly look at each other. 

… In the end, their breakup was inevitable, wasn’t it?

Anya and Damian were barely touching, yet the close proximity was almost unbearable. Anya had a flashback to when she would sleep on his shoulder on long train rides. Those were the halcyon days, their glory days at Eden Academy. Maybe Eden did live up to its name sometimes. 

“So, what plans do you have for tomorrow?” Damian’s voice broke her out of her thoughts. 

“Oh, my colleague is having an engagement party,” Anya replied absentmindedly. “Like, my psychiatrist colleague.”

“So you can’t be sick too.”

“Eh, I’ll power through if that’s the case.”

All these W.I.S.E. missions were indeed making them talk more, and Anya could say they were… acquaintances. Colleagues. Performers. Ex-lovers. Half-rivals. Looking at him used to be painful, but it was easier to think of him as an ally. A partner in crime in their mission to bamboozle everyone. Someone she could work with professionally, but not emotionally. 

Of course they still bickered, but they tried to control their tempers. Whenever tensions arose, they took a step back to cool off somewhere. Anya knew Damian would train (geez, still on the grind just like when he was an Imperial Scholar) while Anya would run off to a park where she wasn’t around as many people. It was awkward, but it worked. Funny how they were now stuck together under Damian’s (admittedly very comfortable) coat. They couldn’t run away if they tried.

Anya didn’t even want to think anymore. When the blasted train finally came, she took the window seat (Damian always let her take that one), leaned her head against the glass pane, and let the train lull her into a dreamless sleep. Neither of them spoke a word for the entire three hours, yet Anya still wore Damian’s coat as she dozed. 

They let someone catch Anya kissing Damian’s cheek. It looked good for the tabloids— her standing on her tiptoes, her fingers clutching his jacket, the surprised flush on his face. “Is the Second Desmond Son Finally Settling Down?” The headlines asked themselves. (After all this time, Damian was still the Second Son.) 

Anya went to tea at Becky’s and strategically dropped a few questions concerning romance and marriage. Damian vaguely mentioned something about finding a wife and starting a family. Damian still queued up for Anya’s favourite apple pie, but instead of keeping the pie to himself, he shared it with her. They went to watch operas together. He awkwardly wrapped his coat around her when it rained. She chose to tuck his scarf around his shoulders in weird ways (he didn’t fix it on his way to work). He kissed her. She kissed him. They held hands. One more box ticked off their list. Their fake relationship was surprisingly the most logical they had both ever been. 

“Anya Desmond,” Anya tried the name out loud in the privacy of their little strategizing corner. “I’ll miss the Forger surname even if it was never real.”

“You can keep on being Forger, I don’t mind,” Damian replied honestly. Her being a Mrs. Desmond was just… sad. She didn’t deserve such a fate. Lady Desmonds usually didn’t end up well (just look at what happened to Demetrius’ birth mom, then Damian’s birth mom) and Damian was determined to be an exception. 

“Yeah, but it’ll reflect poorly on both of us,” Anya mused.

Damian chuckled darkly. “Imagine if I became Damian Forger.”

A dramatic sigh left Anya’s lips. “Ohh, the drama that would create! The Second Son being so desperate to erase his father’s legacy that he takes his wife’s surname… her fake surname…”

Damian was usually pissed when someone referred to the sick monster that was his father, but he didn’t mind if it was Anya. Probably because she had the right to and he was already usually pissed off by her anyway. 

They arrived at the Eden alumni gathering together, his midnight blue tie matching her gorgeous dress speckled with glittery gems. (Suiting their Midnight/Starlight personas, didn't they?) It was there that they announced their engagement, Anya showing off the pretty diamond ring they had both chosen in accordance with fashion trends and Damian’s high status. They were met with roaring applause and whoops from their longtime friends. 

“I can’t believe you’ll get married before me!” Becky (still bearing the Blackbell surname) happily wept. “I’m so happy for you guys!”

“Weren’t you guys arguing a lot half a year ago?” Somebody sensibly asked. 

Anya nudged Damian in the ribs and giggled. She looked so alive, her eyes twinkling with mischief and he almost fooled himself into believing they could be something real.

“Well, since we argue and make up so many times, we decided to get married to do it more conveniently,” Anya replied with a cheeky smile.

“Ohh please! You’ll ruin old man Damian,” somebody else chuckled. “He’s been in love with you since you were six, you know.”

Damian swallowed. That statement was a jab to his gut, a painful reminder of who he’d been. Anya’s smile also faltered slightly, but it was gone before anyone could catch it. Even though Damian could read her well, she was still a good actress to everybody else.

“Come on, guys,” Damian lightly joked. “Don’t embarrass me in front of my future wife.” The words “future wife” slid out of his mouth smoothly like the high-grade hot chocolate Anya used to enjoy on their dates.

Anya gave him a fond eye-roll. “Oh please, my dear future husband, you’re already an embarrassment every day.”

Oh, God. They even had the corny jokes down. Everybody seemed very pleased and amused with them though. Again, it was so easy to pretend that this was all real. He was marrying Anya and they were making horrible but sweet jokes about each other. Could they have ended up like this anyway if they hadn’t split all those years ago? 

… Damian felt disgusted that his hand was wrapped around Anya’s waist. Of course she had consented to it, it made them look like a real couple (the words left a sour aftertaste in his mouth), but he didn’t exactly feel like touching her. Not because she was undesirable… or anything… he just didn’t deserve her. His hand didn’t fit on her waist. It should’ve been someone else. They’d fucked up beyond repair. 

But at the same time, thinking of a faceless person romancing Anya Forger, making her blush and smile, putting his hand on her waist, and marrying her just made Damian’s blood boil. Of course, he was better at controlling his emotions now, but the spike of jealousy at a hypothetical husband was like a slap to his face. He really was horrible, being so possessive over somebody he didn’t deserve and who didn’t deserve him. 

He wondered if Anya would be jealous too if she saw him with someone. Then again, there was that seemingly nonchalant reaction to the gossip the tabloids spread. So she had been keeping tabs on his supposed “love life”. Damian was feeling more horrible by the second because he knew he would feel a bit better if Anya also shared his jealousy. He hoped she hadn’t managed to read those thoughts of his. 

Now back to the gathering. Smile. Answer questions. Bring something up from their Eden days to awaken nostalgia. He felt Anya’s lipstick smudge on his cheek; it was almost like a mark. Funny how she needed to do that when she’d practically marked him in every other way except physical. 

… He wondered how he would survive their marriage.

He also wondered if he would ever see that red lipstick painted on someone else’s cheek. He wouldn’t be surprised, or disappointed. It would just feel like the slightest twinge of betrayal.

But then again, she was free to do whatever she liked. He was also free to do whatever he liked, and it just so happened he was still thinking of her all the time when she… didn’t care anymore.

Damian definitely would not survive their marriage. 

Chatting with their Eden classmates was one thing. Meeting Damian’s relatives was another.

Anya nervously adjusted her hair, then her necklace, then her beautiful engagement ring. Her fake engagement ring. “You look fine,” Damian told her. She couldn’t tell if he was genuine or doing it to calm her down, and she had no intention of reading his mind for that. 

“They probably hate me for what I’ve done to you,” she said.

Damian hummed. “Just your luck that I haven’t told them much about the fallout.”

While Damian and Demetrius were cordial to each other, there was a certain rift between Damian and his other relatives. Damian had been angry that no one came to save him, and they had been angry that he wasn’t behaving. (There were also rumours that they wanted Damian to marry somebody, but he’d resisted. Anya refused to overthink about that.) 

Anya gave Damian a side glance. “Who did you talk to then, pray tell?”

Anya had a lot of support. From her family, from W.I.S.E., from Becky. She wondered who Damian had other than her. Probably not a lot of people. (She knew she used to be his best friend.)

She saw him stiffen. “That’s none of your business,” he replied coolly.

Aka. “I didn’t tell anyone because I don’t trust anybody with the knowledge.”

The meeting went well. There were a few awkward snags, but they managed to pull through. Demetrius looked approving, and because he knew Damian best, the other relatives trusted his judgement. Of course, the rude and invasive questions came, but Anya had anticipated them. She answered them with the charm and coolness she had inherited from her father. She also acted dumb at appropriate times (thanks Ma!) to show she was “untainted” by the upper class and the Desmond War Crisis. 

“You did great,” Damian whispered to her, lightly running his thumb over her pulse point. She sharply inhaled. 

After that, Demetrius had asked to speak with her. Anya had always been intimidated by his sharp blue eyes (even though his stupid gelled hair made her want to laugh). Demetrius was the eternally stoic older brother of Damian who took his work very, very seriously. Even if he was bad at showing it, he did love his little brother. Anya wondered if he hated her. For one suspenseful second, she thought he had seen through their performance. Then Demetrius exhaled, and she could see the tension leave his shoulders.

“I know you two have had a rocky history, but I genuinely think you’ll be good for my brother,” Demetrius began. He met her eyes, conveying sincerity. “Thank you for being with him since you were kids. You… you gave him support when I couldn’t. And I can see it, you know. He loves you. He seems so much happier and lighter now.” 

Huh. Anya wasn’t aware Damian’s acting skills had ascended to godly levels. Either that, or his brother didn’t know him at all. Damian Desmond being happy because of her? What was this, eighth grade?

“For a long time, I thought I wasn’t right for him,” Anya confessed. It was the truth. “Like, he deserves someone… gentler. Kinder. More charming.” More honest, she wanted to add.

Demetrius chuckled, and Anya was surprised by how casual he was. Probably because they were family now. Family… the notion made her stomach churn. Damian was family now. Ew. But also not. 

“You know he’ll eat them alive if he meets someone gentle,” Demetrius said. “You’re a good fit. You can even out his rough edges, and you’re not afraid to stand up for yourself.”

Anya felt like Demetrius was overrating her, but she thanked him for his blessing like any normal bride-to-be would do. “What did my brother say to you?” Damian anxiously hissed in her ear once they left.

“He was saying we were a good match.” Anya’s tone came out blander than she had wanted to, but she couldn’t fix it. Damian gave a snort. She didn’t know what he was thinking- wait, actually, she could just look into his mind like he always accused her of doing. Funny how he was so insistent that she was always peering into his thoughts, when in reality she had forgotten she could do that. The lack of trust between the two agents was astounding. 

To change the topic, Anya said, “We’re going to my parents next. They know it’s arranged so it’s just a casual meetup.”

Damian shivered. “Oh, they would still kill me.”

Anya gave a slight smirk. “Heh, imagine marrying the daughter of Twilight and the Thorn Princess…”

There was nothing more awkward than meeting the parents of the girl you had broken up with, but was now engaged to. And it was a fake engagement. And said parents happened to be two of the most powerful people on the planet. And they used to be on good terms with you because they had known you since you were a child. And they loved nobody more than their daughter whom you’d broken the heart of. 

Damian wondered if this was Handler’s revenge for the trouble his father had caused for the world.

Loid and Yor Forger. Twilight and the Thorn Princess. The two had been extremely nice and welcoming when Damian was a teen. Of course, they had been cautious of his advances towards their daughter, but they trusted him not to hurt her. Except he did hurt her, deeply and irrevocably, but she had also hurt him. The two had come to a mutual understanding that it was both of their faults, so despite all of their sniping, they never truly tried to pin their breakup on a single person. But of course the Forgers would take Anya’s side. Damian just knew they would. 

Damian knew he’d fucked up because he hadn’t just lost Anya, he had also lost the two adults who genuinely cared for him. Damian and the Forgers had been cordial and professional in the few times they had met in those ten years. The Forgers had probably been more lenient when he was eighteen and confused, but now Damian was a grown up and about to marry their daughter. He wasn’t a cute, foolish, immature teenager anymore (although he still felt foolish and immature). So needless to say his relations with the Forger parents were complex and awkward.

Loid and Yor stared at Damian with a neutral expression. They might be slightly past their prime, but they could still dissect him in two seconds. His hands started to sweat. God, he remembered it being like this so many years ago. Anya had tried so hard to diffuse the tension for the sake of her then-boyfriend. Now he doubted she would do that.

Anya still spoke up anyway. “I guess HQ really wanted me to follow in your footsteps, Pa.”

Two generations of fake marriages. One ended up in true love, one ended up in a grouchy alliance. Loid furrowed his eyebrows. “Well, it’s for the sake of world peace.”

Damian could remember how nervous he was the first time. He’d babbled on and on about Anya’s smile and how much her happiness mattered to him. God, those stupid promises made him want to choke up and die.

Yor put on a bright smile. “Well, I think Loid and I can make it to the wedding! Killing people can wait for a bit.”

The hilariously morbid “Yor Forger humour” made Damian a little nostalgic of the dinners he used to have at their house.

Loid proceeded to quiz them on the dos and don’ts of fake spy marriage. Had they secured their place of residence? How comprehensive was their wedding guest list? How many allies were living next to them? Security and jobs? Anya and Damian answered the questions smoothly and the parents seemed to approve.

“I suppose HQ didn’t ask for children, right?” Loid asked casually.

Both Damian and Anya choked. Anya instinctively thumped his back. Damian choked even more.

“Well, no,” Anya carefully said. “But the mission is for us to act like a realistic couple, so…”

Sham marriage or not, Damian was sure he and Anya would make the most dysfunctional pair of parents ever. He wondered if their hypothetical kids would be espers too. Or if they would have pink hair or brown hair. Actually, Anya’s eyes would look cute on a baby-

“I see.” Loid sounded as neutral as always. “Well, if you need help, just contact us.”

They exchanged more pleasantries and intel. Damian had no idea what to say. He couldn’t promise to say he would never hurt Anya because he had done that already. Sure, they were trying their best to work together but a lot of the times, their best didn’t feel enough. Yor and Anya began an enthusiastic discussion about cooking (oh no, Damian definitely had to do more of the cooking if he didn’t want both of them to die of food poisoning). 

“Damian, can I talk to you for a moment?”

Ah, Twilight. Damian steeled himself. He would stop irrationally thinking Loid would murder him in front of his family. He would bravely face whatever Loid had to tell him because he was sensible and a grown up. Loid stood up and indicated for Damian to follow him. They went to a corner away from the women. 

“I bet you think we hate you.”

What a great opening sentence. Not knowing what to do, Damian mutely nodded. 

“And I still resent you for how you hurt Anya. Just a little bit.”

Loid took his hands out of his pockets and turned them so they were slightly facing Damian, but still casually at his sides. That was spy-speak for trust and open communication because Damian could see Loid wasn’t armed. Damian mimicked his actions. 

“However, what you did was understandable given your circumstances and young age. Anya was also inexperienced and didn’t know how to handle missions. I should’ve taught her a few more things. I understand you would’ve also been upset by how W.I.S.E. had used you for their agenda without your consent. So this tiny bit of “resentment” isn’t from Agent Twilight, it’s just from Loid the father who’s protective of his daughter.”

“I actually hoped and thought you two would make up once you grew older. But,” Loid exhaled, “it’s been ten years since then. I know you two see each other regularly even before you were assigned to your mission, so I assumed it just didn’t work out. You two are adults and have the right to do whatever you want with your relationship. I’m just glad you’re not trying to sabotage each other.”

“We understand working with each other is important.” Damian’s throat felt dry.

A wry smile quirked up on Loid’s face. “Yes, good, very good. Also, in a weird way, I’m proud of you, Damian.”

That made Damian raise an eyebrow. “Ah.”

“Working with the very organisation who arrested your father and betrayed your trust, then actively working with your ex while remaining respectful and civil takes a lot,” Loid said. “I’m also extremely relieved you’re not going down your father’s path. You seem to be doing a lot of good things for the people. The civilians are fond of you despite the family name you bear.”

Damian flushed slightly. “It’s the least I can do.”

Loid exhaled. “Listen, Damian, I don’t mean to intimidate you. You and Anya can hold up to each other, that’s one thing I’m certain of. I do care about both of you, and it’s not just because you used to be friends with Anya, it’s because I’ve known you since you were a child. You are genuinely not a bad person despite what you might think.”

Good ole Loid Forger coming in with the therapy session. Damian remembered thinking Loid was a damn good psychiatrist even if he was a fake one. 

“Well, thanks Pops.”

The name slipped out before Damian could stop it, and he internally winced. What was he, nine? Loid didn’t seem to mind though.

“Also, I meant it when I said you can contact me or Yor if you ever need help.” Loid let out a sigh. “We’re experts in faking a marriage. And at least you two won’t have anybody like Yuri breathing down your necks.”

The heavy stone weighing down Damian’s heart was being lifted. He was actually making amends and chatting with Loid Forger! A moment passed, then he was also having the same conversation with Yor. They both cared for him and would look out for his well-being even if they weren’t close anymore. Even if Damian wasn’t a child in need of guidance or rescuing. Even if they weren’t obliged to keep an eye on him. 

“Your parents are seriously the nicest folks I’ve ever met,” Damian told Anya on the way back.

Anya gave a chuckle that almost sounded sincere. “I think us Forgers always have a weakness for you, Damian.”

… Damian realized she’d used the present tense.

Her hand brushed against his, the large gem of her engagement ring pressing against his skin. For one second, he thought she might try to intertwine her fingers with his, but that never happened. 

The wedding was exhausting.

Many of Damian’s powerful contacts were attending and Anya was desperate to learn more about them. To the two agents, this wedding was more of a diplomatic mission than a romantic scene. Anya’s mind anxiously searched through the crowd, but she was constantly distracted by people thinking how happy they looked as a couple. Becky’s mind hadn’t once stopped screaming.

… To be fair, the wedding was very pretty and well-organized. Even though the marriage was fake, Anya still loved how her closest friends were her bridesmaids. It was also nostalgic to see classmates from Eden and Berlint University. Ewen and Emile came together, their hairdos as ludicrous as ever. George was smiling for once. Bill arrived in tow with his wife and equally enormous children. Henderson, although nearing his nineties now, came hobbling in with an approving smile. “Elegant, so elegant!” He exclaimed, and his ex-students all chuckled. Anya could hardly believe how many people she and Damian knew. 

Agents from W.I.S.E were also there, including the ever stoic Fiona and Handler, who were both sprouting rare smiles. Yuri and Franky cheerfully waved at her despite coming from ex-rival organisations. If Anya squinted, she might recognize a few people from Garden in disguise. Daybreak was surprisingly striking up a conversation with Demetrius of all people. Damian’s dorm mother from Eden was chatting with Yor. This all felt like a big happy reunion of everybody that had been there for every stage of their lives. It was so harmonious, so peaceful, so… genuine. 

When Anya, in her wedding dress, looked at herself in the mirror, she could almost believe all of this was real. “Anya, you’re stunning,” Becky whispered, a look of awe painted on her face. “I-I can’t believe you’re really getting married… my best friend of twenty years…”

Anya’s voice was already struggling. “Becky, if you continue to be like that I’m going to start crying.”

“But you’ll ruin your makeup!” Becky gasped, delicately catching a tear trickling down Anya’s cheek. “Also, this is the only time you’ll get married! (Provided you don’t divorce him, of course.)”

Anya’s heart jolted and her stomach spun. Ahh, divorce… Handler hadn’t mentioned it. Their scam marriage was a long-term one, so who knew if they would ever get divorced? Anya didn’t want to think about it. The thought of divorcing Damian was worse than the thought of marrying him. 

Loid was smiling and misty eyed when he walked Anya down the aisle. “Don’t do it,” Anya almost wanted to plead. “I’m not really marrying Damian. I’ll be your daughter forever.”

But those thoughts faded away when she saw Damian standing in front of her, so close yet so far. The audience was entranced by them, every pair of eyes on Anya. The wedding march should have sounded like a mockery but Anya gave in. She let the warm swell of the music envelope her. The sweet scent of the flowers didn’t seem so saccharine after all. This was supposed to be fake, fake, so fake.

So why did Anya want to cry? 

Damian looked so polished and handsome, and she stared at him like she hadn’t seen him for ten years. This whole… wedding spectacle was a caricature of what they foolishly wished for when they were teenagers. This was the stuff Becky’s romantic drama dreams were made out of. This was the perfect vision of what could’ve been.

Her heart was thumping so loudly. Her stomach fluttered when he realised Damian had styled his hair the way she liked it— from what she’d told him on one of their dates. And then she realized she’d also done the same— donned a pair of earrings Damian had given to her on her sixteenth birthday. She could never bear to throw them away, and this would probably be the last time she wore them before she carefully stored them in her box of distant memories and naïve dreams. 

Anya could hardly bear looking at Damian’s face because he would either make it far too real or he would crush her heart. But she knew she had to anyway.

He looked like he’d seen a ghost. His eyes wide, lips trembling, a soft dusting of pink on his cheeks.

He looked like he’d seen the resurrected love of his life when they had both died ten years ago. 

He looked at her the way all girls wanted to be looked at— soft, yet fierce. Tender, yet passionate. There was the slightest hint of sadness in his eyes, but Anya chose to ignore that. Anya couldn’t tear her eyes off him, and she knew she was mirroring his emotions. They were two twin flames, mesmerised as they burnt themselves alive. 

All of their severed connections and feelings were returning full-speed despite everything that had happened. After all this time, they were still precious to each other. They still loved each other in a warped, contradictory sort of way.

“You look great,” Anya blurted out before any semblance of rationality could stop her.

She could see the beautiful lights reflecting in his eyes. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured, his expression painfully vulnerable and sincere. Not “you look beautiful”. He thought she was beautiful. It was a fact to him, not an opinion. 

Damnit, why did Damian think she would ever read his mind when she could see it all from his face? 

They repeated their rehearsed vows. Anya was glad that years of training allowed her to maintain her composure. She had also decidedly shut off her ability to read minds because the overload of information would surely break her.

“You may now kiss the bride.”

Anya only allowed herself a second of hesitation before she moved forward and Damian did the same. Their lips met and Anya realised with a pang it was all too easy to fall back into their old habits. This wasn’t like the fleeting kisses they did for the press. This was solid, real in the sense there was emotion behind it (no matter what kind of emotion that was). Her hands in his soft hair, his palm tenderly cupping her chin. It felt like they were reliving their dead history, desperately grabbing onto what they’d lost. Anya’s mind was getting slightly hazy but somehow she couldn’t bear to let go. The shape of his face had changed over the years, but he still fit in her hands. They fell together like broken puzzle pieces, clashing one jagged edge with the other. It was her, it was him, and no matter what had happened, it was still them. Together. Holding each other, bound together by fate or world peace or was it simply their inability to move on? 

Their lips parted. Damian’s eyes were half-lidded. Impulsively, Anya leaned forward and bumped her nose against his. She could practically feel the warmth emanating from him. His eyes fluttered open and stared right into hers, surprised and flustered. Shit.

Had she overdone it? Was the nose bump too real? That wasn’t part of the script. And Damian was gazing at her with such intensity. Anya’s heart was going to burst—

The newlyweds were met with thunderous cheers and applause. They awkwardly adjusted their clothes and giggled along. Becky was positively bawling, Ewen and Emile were cheering “GO BOSS-MAN GO!!”, and Yuri was screaming “THAT’S MY SISTER’S DAUGHTER!!”. 

Neither Anya nor Damian could speak or look at each other. The emotional intensity was too much for the agents to follow their script. The crowd just thought they were shy and flustered. Anya’s heart was overflowing with locked-up affection and guilt. She was now officially married to Damian. They were husband and wife. For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer. In sickness and in death, till death did they part.

They were stumbling in the haze of romantic nostalgia until someone (Handler in disguise?) walked past and whispered, “Good job.”

Then the illusion crumbled and Anya’s heart shrivelled up.

It all felt like a dream. A dream, a nightmare, his greatest wish and fear all mixed into one lavish, flowery celebration. 

Seeing Anya walk down the aisle stole Damian’s breath. She looked positively angelic despite her horn accessories. Her green eyes were bright and shimmery, her cheeks glowing, and when he recognised the earrings she wore, it felt like he’d been shot in the chest. Anya still cared. She still missed their moments. And this woman would now be his wife.

Damian gazed at Anya, the love of his life, the loss of his life. 

He tried to remind himself this was all fake. Anya didn’t have romantic feelings towards him. They were both just stuck in the sickly sweet trap of nostalgia. But it was too easy to sink into the role of the lovestruck groom, because perhaps he was the lovestruck groom. And her cute nose bump just seized his heart and crumpled it into dust. 

This was supposed to be fake. Their love might be fake, but whatever the heck they shared— the solidarity between two heart-broken people, their peculiar bond that had endured for two decades— was painfully real. 

This was supposed to be fake.

What happened next was that people kept on congratulating them and asking for photos. Anya had told him she would use this opportunity to read minds and would be relying on him to guide her. Her arm tucked into his, they went around the tables. Damian showed off his wife to his new colleagues and dragged out conversations so Anya could presumably get a read on them. Soon, he realized Anya’s eyes were a little glazed. He hurriedly excused himself and nudged her towards the refreshments table. 

“Thanks,” Anya mumbled to him. “I need a break.”

Damian could feel they were becoming awkward again. He hastily grabbed the closest thing and offered it to her. “Cheese cube?”

The night melted into one and the faces started blurring together. It felt like forever before they said goodbye to their final guests and went up to their hotel room. Anya was practically falling asleep in his arms. 

“Sy-on…” She mumbled. “Please help me take this dress off.”

Damian flushed hotly like a schoolboy. Firstly, she hadn’t called him with her stupid nickname forever. Which meant that she was clearly very exhausted and letting her guard down around him. Secondly, the connotations of undressing her on their wedding night was… Damian knew she didn’t mean it and he certainly didn’t want it, but it was still something tickling the back of his brain. 

“I don’t think I found anything pressing today but I might have some discoveries if I turn it over in my mind…” Anya flopped on a couch and yawned. “Reading so many people’s minds takes a toll on me.”

“You deserve a long break,” Damian said as he poured her a glass of water (he decidedly ignored the celebratory bottles of wine on the bedside table). 

“Good thing we’ve got that honeymoon then,” Anya mumbled. 

He helped Anya undo the ribbons at the back of her dress. He did it as quickly and respectfully as he could, but he couldn’t help but be self conscious when he felt her body warmth linger on the ribbons. After the deed was done, he quickly went to shower. He returned to find Anya clothed in pyjamas, still slumped on the couch. He poked her shoulder. “Hey, Anya.”

No reply. She was fast asleep. It was a miracle that she hadn’t collapsed already. She’d worked tirelessly and he felt like a trophy husband to the famous Agent Starlight. The least he could do was to take care of her.

Gently, gently, he scooped her up in his arms. Her head lolled, and for one moment he thought she was going to wake up, but she didn’t. He carried her to their shared double bed. “Sweet dreams, Anya,” he whispered to her absentmindedly. 

He tried to lower her to the bed, but a sudden motion stopped him. Anya’s fingers were grasping at his shirt, the fabric twisted in her fist. A few moments later, she let go. 

After tucking Anya in, Damian too slid into the bed next to her. Turning so he wasn’t facing her, he closed his eyes.

… So this was their first night as a married couple.

After the breakup, he never thought he would get to hold her or kiss her again. And now here they were, sleeping on two sides of the same bed, engaged in the most truthful lie. It was disgustingly easy to sink into the role during the wedding. But now with the party done and Anya fast asleep, Damian had nobody but himself for company. It was strangely lonely even though he was sleeping next to the only woman he’d ever loved.

This felt like a fairy-tale gone wrong, a story torn up and stuck back in the wrong places. The rings were real, the ceremony was real, heck, even the emotions were real- but the intention wasn’t. 

Damian had tried to move on, of course he did, but this mission grabbed him by the neck and thrust him into his ocean of lost love. Despite what his brain was telling him, he was drowning again. Damian couldn’t stop himself even if he knew what the consequences were.

If there was one thing Damian was certain about, it was that Anya Desmond had completely and utterly devastated him. 

Did he do the same to her?

Chapter Text

Springtime had finally arrived and life was returning to the gardens of Eden Academy. Daffodils and tulips sprouted from seemingly nowhere as if to cheerfully greet students. Pink cherry blossom petals drifted in the wind, and Damian definitely did not turn to look whenever Anya walked under a cherry blossom tree. He also did not feel his heart thump and his cheeks did not turn the same shade as the blossoms. He definitely, definitely was not doing anything mentioned above. 

In addition to the pleasant scenery, the weather was also getting warmer. Relieved that the harsh winter winds were over, windows were flung open to let the spring breeze in. 

So this was the story of how an innocent bee found its way into the classroom.

At first, nobody noticed the bee. It was breaktime and students were busy snacking and relaxing. Damian was idly eating his gourmet chocolates and totally not thinking of Anya Forger under a shower of romantic pink petals. Anya Forger, her hands covered with salt from her bag of peanuts, was totally not paying attention to what Damian was thinking. (Except she was.) 

Why is Sy-on boy thinking of me underneath a tree? Anya thought to herself, extremely confused, then a realization struck her like a lightning bolt. D-does he want to kill Anya by breaking a branch above me! Sy-on boy is a meanie just like his dad!! I won’t forgive him!

“Wh-what are you looking at, stubby legs?” Damian growled her direction, bits of melted chocolate on his fingers. His face was dusted with pink. “She’s always staring at me… with that kind of face… turning to look at me… don’t tell me she-”

Wow, Sy-on boy is super weird, Anya deadpanned to herself. She was oblivious to Damian’s racing heart, just like how Becky, who was next to her, was oblivious to Anya’s thoughts. 

Out of nowhere, a black blur hurled towards Damian. Everybody looked up in shock. Before anybody could react, a shrill scream pierced the air.

“AAAAAAHHHHH!”

Damian Desmond, the second son of the chairman of the National Unity Party, was currently rolled up in a ball on the floor. His skin was pale and his hands were sweaty as he put them over his head. “GET THAT BEE AWAY FROM MEEEE!” He screeched in pure terror, so unlike the intelligent, dignfiied kid he always tried to portray. 

Said bee was unusually large and to those poor first graders, it looked as big as their fist. Which meant it was the scariest thing they’d ever seen. The bee buzzed, then erratically flew around. Students instantly started shrieking and running away from Damian. Becky squealed and clutched Anya’s arm. “It’s so big!” She gasped. “The bees aren’t this big at my holiday castle!”

Despite the very large danger currently buzzing around, Anya was instantly distracted by Becky’s words. Becky has a holiday castle?? Take me with you! I’ll even help you get closer to Pa! 

“Don’t worry Boss-man!” Came two distinct shouts. “We’ll protect you!” Ewen and Emilie grabbed their books and furiously started swinging at the bee despite their obvious fear. Damian, who cowered between them, looked at his friends with watery eyes. “You guys… you guys are my true friends!” He cried out, emotional.

Friends? That word was like electricity to Anya, and her focus shifted from Becky’s castle to Damian. That was right; she needed to be friends with Sy-on for the mission! And what better moment to prove her goodwill than to save Damian like how Bondman saved Princess Honey? 

Anya scrunched up her face and attempted to recall facts about her formidable enemy - the bee. Uncle Yuri’s science books came to mind. He had told her that bees had a sting… and they could sting people… which would hurt… and if it hurt… then people would die! Anya gasped. She needed to save Sy-on boy’s life, and then she could visit his house! Anya could see it perfectly in her mind- his evil superboss daddy would say “Thank you for saving my Sy-on from The Big Bee. I’ll agree to stop the war.” And then the world was saved.

Anya put on a determined expression and dramatically rolled up a piece of paper (that happened to be her failed history test, but we don’t talk about that). Channeling all of the energy from her assassin mother and spy father, Anya took a heavy step forward. Her green eyes were zoned in on her target, the bee, which was currently flailing around. Heh, heh. This would be an easy job for Starlight Anya. Her signature smirk appeared on her face.

“Anya?” Becky looked at her in surprise. “What are you doing?”

“Becky, be prepared to be blown away by my swole chihuahua.” The other students, sensing the scary aura emitting from Anya, automatically parted to make way for her. Anya, armed with a terrific ego and her awesome sword (read: her rolled up test paper), looked down at her damsel-in-distress, Sy-on boy. 

This is so exciting! Anya smugly thought to herself. Anya’s gonna be like the cool Bondman saving Sy-on boy from the bad guys!

“AHHHH THE BEE’S GONNA HIT ME- wait, what are YOU doing?” Damian hollered at her, his shaking hands still over his head. A new wave of panic seemed to course through him. “W-wh- don’t get closer!!” He snapped. “It’s dangerous!”

Even Emile and Ewen were whimpering from the bee now. Heh heh, all of them were cowards compared to Anya. The bee was closely orbiting Damian’s head, and he flinched. A droplet of sweat trickled down his face. Now Damian was completely frozen with dread, his lips parted in a silent scream. With her makeshift weapon held behind her, she mimicked her Pa’s pose. All of Anya’s classmates were gaping at her, Damian included. Anya smiled to herself, satisfied by all of the attention. 

“Get ready for my… STARLIGHT ANYA SPECIAL STRIKEEE!”

With a battle cry, Anya rushed forward towards the offending bee. With everybody’s eyes on her and with Damian’s last hope pinned on her, Anya jumped, swung her paper roll-

And fell.

Face-forward. Into the ground. On top of Damian.

Above their heads, the bee blithely buzzed, unaware of the thunderous crash that had just occurred in the middle of the classroom.

(A few rooms away, Henderson stared at his cup of coffee, puzzled. Did his table just shake?)

Oh. Anya thought to herself, her face expressionless. Her paper roll uselessly slid from her fingers. I failed. The world is doomed. Heh. 

It was a miracle that Damian didn’t faint. “W-WH-WHAT ARE YOU DOING ON TOP OF ME??” He screeched, somehow even more panicked than when there was an actual bee next to his head. “You’re crushing me alive! Get off, stupid nerd!”

“Ohhh my gosh Anya, you’re being so forward!” Becky suddenly cooed from the sidelines. “Why, this is almost a perfect imitation of what happened in episode 121 of Berlint In Love-”

Anya spun to look at a gushing Becky, then at a blushing Damian, then at the stunned expressions of her classmates. All of their various different thoughts were overwhelming her, and she could barely stand up. And then-

The bee, similarly disoriented, bonked into Anya’s head.

Damian and Becky both shrieked.

Anya froze for one second, then collapsed. Tears poured out from her eyes. “I’ve been poisoned!” She sobbed as she grabbed fistfuls of Damian’s shirt. “Anya’s gonna die! It hurts sooo badly! I’m dying!!”

All traces of Anya’s bravado were instantly wiped away. Damian, although more terrified than ever, put up a brave facade. “H-hey! It’s gonna be alright!” He furiously patted her head as if he could wipe away all traces of that dastardly bee. 

“Sorry I can’t save you, Sy-on boy!” Anya sniffed. Her hands were shaking. “I-I was gonna protect you, because I don’t want you to die… you’re important (for world peace)...”

Damian’s heart bloomed, and his tongue was so tied he could barely stutter out a sentence. “S-stop saying stupid things like that, dummy! I’m not dying that easily! I’m my father’s son!”

The bee, having recovered from the earlier bump, was flying around again. Damian and Anya grabbed onto each other, petrified out of their minds. Anya, acting on instinct, buried her head into Damian’s shoulder, and Damian felt like crying too-

WHAM!

Professor Henderson stood in front of them, a cup and a piece of paper in his hands. To the immense relief of his students, he’d just trapped the bee in a cup. The atmosphere in the room relaxed. Anya anxiously peered out from behind Damian. 

“Screaming like that was not elegant!” Henderson fixed the two with a glare. 

“Sorry, sir!” Damian hastily said. “W-we thought the bee was gonna hurt us!”

Anya dramatically flung herself over Damian. “And Anya’s been STUNG by the bee’s spiky bottom so I’m gonna tragically DIE-”

“You haven’t been stung, Miss Forger,” Henderson replied straight-forwardly. “To put it simply, bees die when they use their sting. This bee is obviously still alive, so you’re not hurt anywhere.”

Heh. Anya’s face flushed with embarrassment. She’d been so dramatic for… nothing? Oh, well. At least she wasn’t dying before the next Bondman episode aired. 

Henderson calmly walked towards the window, cup in hand. The other students stared at their teacher, too stupefied to move. “W-wait!” Damian yelped. “W-what are you gonna do to the bee?”

Henderson blinked. “Setting it free, of course! My young students, we must treasure nature’s gifts.”

Anya was still clutching Damian’s arm, and he felt a sudden urge of protectiveness. This stupid bee made Anya cry, so he hated bees with a passion! “B-but the bee scared us! We should kill it!”

Henderson stroked his mustache. Using his free hand, he gestured at the scenery outside the window. “Mr Desmond, what do you see?”

“... Eh?” Damian was confused, but answered anyway. “I see blooming flowers? (Especially the pink sort that Anya looks good in when the petals fall around her.)”

“Exactly!” Henderson twirled around in excitement. “Flowers! Such elegance that we’ve been blessed with! Children, the bees that you’re so afraid of are crucial to our ecosystem! Without bees, all flowers would die! Plants wouldn’t bear fruit! So much of our food will be gone! You don’t want that, right?”

“No, Mr Henderson,” The students all chorused. 

“Besides, bees produce the tasty honey you eat!” Henderson continued. “Pancakes, waffles, warm milk with honey… you are free to enjoy that because of the bees’ hard work! Therefore, children, we must protect the bees. They are virtually harmless if you don’t provoke them.” And with that, Henderson gently set the bee free. The bee idly buzzed along and gradually weaved its way back into the wild. With the threat gone, Eden students instantly shut the windows, terrified of another “invasion”. 

Damian felt a finger poke his shoulder. It was Anya, who was apparently back to her normal, aggravating self complete with that self-satisfied smirk. “Heh, Sy-on, don’t you think I deserve a reward for saving you?”

His face felt hot. “You didn’t save me!!”

“The bee hit me instead of you!” Anya protested. “I was doing it for you, Sy-on!”

Damian’s heart bloomed like the flowers outside. Despite his anger at himself for showing weakness, Anya was making him feel light-headed and… happy?  “O-o-okay! Fine! What do you want, commoner brat?!”

Henderson’s words floated into Anya’s mind. “Hmmm… waffles! Anya wants waffles from the school cafeteria!” She brightly beamed at him, and Damian melted like an ice cream in the summer sun. 

Damian hastily grabbed his bag, his hands still sweaty from the earlier scare. “After that, we’re even! I don’t owe you anything, you hear me?”

“Okay!” Anya chirped. “I’ll still keep on protecting you though (for the sake of the world)!”

“S-shut up!”

A few moments later, Anya was enjoying the most expensive waffle set available. Strawberries and raspberries adorned the plate, golden honey was drizzled over crunchy waffles, and there was even a scoop of vanilla ice cream to top it off. Becky was giggling while Damian sat there, too flustered to speak. Ewen and Emile just stared, not sure what they were witnessing. Why was their Boss-man acting so weird around the commoner girl? 

Anya stretched out her fork, a bit of waffle on it. “Do you want some, Sy-on?” She asked innocently. After all, he’d bought it with his money. Ma always taught her to share. “I’m actually a bit full…”

Damian flushed even more. “FINE! Because I’m not wasting good food.” He took the offered fork and shoved it in his mouth. He passed the fork back to Anya who dug it into a strawberry. 

“How was it?” Anya asked, genuinely curious as she munched on said strawberry.

There was that light-headedness again. Warmth brewed inside Damian, and his tongue felt like it was knotted. “Umm, it was sweet…” He mumbled, honest. 

Then Damian abruptly realized he had shared a fork with Anya. His heart was thumping furiously and Damian stood up, his face as red as a tomato. “W-was that an indirect ki-”

Anya’s eyes were wide as she read Damian’s thoughts. An indirect kill? She yelled in her mind, her jaw dropped. Had I really killed Sy-on boy? Ma would be so proud! 

“ANYWAY!” Damian practically screamed at her. “I’m done with you! Bye and see you never again!”

With that, Damian scuttled away, Ewen and Emilie hurriedly following him. Becky and Anya stared after them, both immensely confused.

“D-does Sy-on boy hate me now?” Anya asked, baffled. She stared at her waffles. “He did get me food though…”

Becky tapped on her chin thoughtfully. “It may not look like it, but I think… I think you have a chance, Anya! Go forth and win his heart!” Becky’s eyes were shimmering like gemstones.

Anya did not understand at all, but Becky seemed excited. “Oo…kay?”

Plan B Progress: Surprisingly sweet (???)

Chapter Text

Winter swept through Eden Academy and its students wrapped their jackets around themselves as they huddled from class to class. Heavy snow accumulated on the ground and everybody had to watch their step or else they might easily slip. Due to the chill, more and more students were feeling under the weather. One such student was Becky who was unfortunately stuck at home with a cold (she wrote letters to Anya complaining about how silly she looked with a red nose and how her dearest Loid would never want her). Thus, Anya didn’t have her best friend by her side at school and it saddened her a bit. 

Damian, as a child from an elite family, never had to worry about food or clothing. He was snugly fit in his thick coat and scarf. Still, he had enough sense to worry about his other classmates, especially the peasants- sorry, the commoners (Damian was working on his vocabulary after various classmates had voiced their frustration). Damian definitely wasn’t focusing on a certain pink-haired commoner classmate of his. He definitely didn’t feel relieved when it appeared her parents could afford warm enough clothing for her. And of course, he definitely had no intentions of ever sharing his scarf with her- that was just absurd! It was something straight out of those cheesy romantic dramas that his female classmates swooned after, and Damian was not cheesy. 

Still, even with her coat and wooly hat (she somewhat resembled a cute marshmallow with so many layers of clothes), Anya Forger was still shivering in class. She was always small for her age, so perhaps she was extra vulnerable to the cold? Her nose and the tips of her ears were coloured red, her skin was pale, and her hands looked like they were cold to touch- not that he’d ever touched them! Not that he thought about touching her hand- or how he didn’t mind holding her hand to make her warmer! And as if he would ever hold that shrimp’s hand which was probably as knobbly as her legs! 

As a wintery treat, the P.E. teacher let them play in the snow for one period. The class instantly divided themselves into two sides so they could start a huge snowball fight. Anya, as always, was enthusiastic to show off her Starlight Anya Moves (everybody knew they never worked, but she always looked funny trying to do them so they indulged her). Damian, of course, was excited about the snowball fight but he couldn’t help but keep an eye on Anya. She was so… so… tiny and weak that she could just be crushed sooo easily! Damian was simply observing the weakness of his opponents (never mind that he’d chosen the same side as Anya)!

“Heh, Sy-on is here.” Anya gave him that familiar smirk as she and Damian crouched behind a makeshift snow wall. “We’re on the same side! We’re friends!”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Damian grumbled. Snowball in hand, he peeked out from behind the wall and threw. He heard a splat and a scream, so he assumed he hit someone. 

“Ooh, impressive, Sy-on boy!” Anya sounded genuine. Damian’s heart fluttered at the praise, and he blushed despite the cold. “Now watch me!”

Anya mimicked Damian’s pose and raised her arm- only for a large snowball to smash into her face. Anya wobbled, then the force of the throw made her topple backwards. She unceremoniously crashed into a pile of snow, her small body disappearing in a sea of white. “Anya!” Damian gasped, worry seizing his heart like an iron fist. His fists trembled. WHO had hit her? I’m gonna hit them back!

Damian dug into the snow and Anya grabbed onto his arm. He pulled her out and was horrified to see Anya shivering. Clumps of snow were melting on her head and exposed skin, and was it just his imagination or did her skin gain a blue tint? Anya started sniffling and Damian’s body froze with panic.

“I’m cold…” Anya muttered as she rubbed her hands together. “Waaa…”

She then fell forward into Damian’s arms. “Heh heh, Sy-on is warm,” she said happily, her face buried in his scarf. Damian’s heart stuttered and now he nearly toppled backwards. He couldn’t even bear to wrap his arms around her. Oh no, he was making prolonged physical contact with Anya, and she was hugging him, and she was cold and oh no, his heart was going to burst and he would die—

Damian hastily removed Anya’s arms from him. Blood was pulsing in his ears and he could barely think. And oh no, she was probably aware of his speeding heartbeat because she was so close to him. “I-If you’re so cold, then go back indoors!” Damian burst out. Then he remembered Becky was absent, and before he could regret it, he declared, “I’ll walk you back if you need it!!”

Anya blinked and stared at him like she was carefully dissecting his brain. Damian gulped- Anya’s stare had always unnerved him, but he’d accepted it as a part of her usual weirdness. Anya then puffed her chest and brushed snow off her coat. “Don’t worry Sy-on boy, I’m strong and tough! A little snow can’t hurt me! But thanks for being concerned!”

Damian’s mind was overheating again. To keep his train of thought from stopping (and to hide his pink cheeks), he instantly spun away from her. “A-aren’t you gonna get revenge for that?!” He exclaimed. Before receiving a reply, Damian was already furiously flinging snowballs at his opponents, channeling his anger and frustration at himself for acting so stupid around a commoner girl. Also who had just hit Anya in front of him? Damian had to fight back!

“Wow, you’re like a snow cannon…” Anya marveled. Her words just made him even more flustered and he threw more and more snowballs to get rid of his nervous energy. The opposite side was gasping in shock and rage.

“Oy, what’s that snowball rush coming from over there?”

“Hmph, we’re gonna retaliate!” 

So the next time Damian popped up from behind the snow wall, he was instantly smacked in the face by five or so snowballs. His face and nose completely numb from the cold, he stumbled backwards much like how Anya just did. He flopped on the ground, defeated. His heart sank to the pits of doom, and that was because he embarrassingly fell, not because he hadn’t managed to avenge Anya—

“You really took one for the team, heh.” Anya was carefully brushing snow off Damian’s hair and Damian froze. His cheeks became so warm that the snow on his skin almost started melting. W-why did that feel so good?? Is this what they call a headpat! She’s so cute! Anya is so cute!

For the rest of the period, Damian and Anya crouched behind the snow wall together, Anya because she wanted to get closer to Damian, and Damian because… well, Anya was there. He couldn’t just leave her alone or else she would get hit and probably freeze to death. And without Becky to support her, someone had to! He was just concerned for her as a classmate, that was all! There was nothing else going on! 

After the snowball fight, it was lunchtime. The tired and shivering students trod into Eden’s cafeteria, hoping some food could warm them up. Anya was sitting by herself at the corner of a table, and Damian’s heart twitched uncomfortably. She looked so… sad and lonely without Becky. Sure, Becky was annoying, but she was a good friend to Anya. Anya was slowly spooning soup into her mouth. A gust of wind blew past Anya, she violently shivered, and Damian decided he had enough. 

Ignoring his lackeys, Damian stood up and walked to the counter where they purchased their meals. Damian didn’t need to read the menu to know what he wanted. His gift in his hands, he cautiously made his way over to Anya’s table. His heart was thumping loudly and he did his best to ignore it.

“Uh, hi Anya.”

Anya turned, snot dripping from her red nose. Nonetheless, she had a smile on her face. “Sy-on! What are you doing here?”

Upon seeing that girl, Damian’s ability to speak instantly vaporized. He carefully set down the mug he was holding, his cheeks reddening when he felt Anya’s curious gaze on him. “H-hot chocolate! For you!”

They both stared at the mug. Naturally, Damian had chosen the most expensive cocoa. It had a dollop of whipped cream and a generous amount of marshmallows bobbing on the surface (Damian had asked for more because he felt Anya would like something sweet, also she kinda looked like a marshmallow when she was bundled up— not that he would tell her that! That was just embarrassing! But why, oh why was Anya looking at him again—)

Anya sniffed the hot chocolate. “Ooh, smells good!” She blew on the surface to cool it down a little, and that should not be as cute as it was. Damian felt like he was about to faint. She grinned up at him. “Thanks, Sy-on boy! How did you know I like hot chocolate?”

Damian actually didn’t know that. He would carefully store the information in that special corner of his mind (right next to “Anya likes peanuts” and “Anya likes it when he teaches her history”). He scratched the back of his head awkwardly. “I-I just thought you would like something warm in that horrendous weather.” Horrendous. That’s a smart word. You’ll look smart in front of Anya. “It’s nothing special, really.” It is literally the most expensive option for hot chocolate because I want you to have it. Damian was desperately trying to hide how flustered he was. 

Anya was squinting at him again, then she happily took a sip. “That’s nice of you, Sy-on.” 

Just then, a gust of wind blew past the two. Damian instinctively rubbed his hands together and discovered that the table was next to the cafeteria doors. Every time somebody left or entered the hall, the wind would hit Anya. And he didn’t want that!

He cleared his throat. “And, umm, I know it’s cold here so… would you like to sit with me? And my friends? O-only if you want though,” he hastily added. It was so unlike him to be shy, especially in front of a commoner girl, but it’d been long established that he did weird things around Anya. He trained his eyes on the marshmallows floating apathetically in the cocoa. 

Anya’s eyes started glittering like stars, and it felt like flowers were blooming in Damian’s stomach. “Oh sure!” Anya happily agreed.

Damian began to lead Anya to his table and did his best to ignore the looks from other students. Doubtless they were wondering why the second son of the Desmonds was friends with a commoner runt. I-it’s just charity! Damian stubbornly told himself. To build up my reputation! Or something! 

Damian was almost certain Anya would do something like trip and spill her expensive hot chocolate, but she surprisingly survived the trip to Damian’s table. Ewen and Emile looked up at the two, and Damian noticed that they didn’t seem very shocked.

“Ooh, Boss-man! You’re bringing a girl here!” Ewen was sniggering.

Damian’s cheeks reddened. “What, you got a problem with that?”

“Nope,” the two boys chorused in unison, similar cheeky grins on their faces. Damian frowned, but sat down anyway, Anya next to him. They stared at Anya’s “commoner” meal of soup and bread, then at their set lunches of steaks and pasta and desserts. 

“Wow, the commoners do really have it bad,” Emile blurted out. He wasn’t being malicious or demeaning, just honest. 

Anya stared at their lunches, and then her expression suddenly changed. “Aah, I’m so cold and hungry today…” she whined, pouting. She made sure to shoot the boys glances. “Anya’s gonna freeze to death soon…”

Damian’s hand twitched, and he quickly cut a bit of steak and practically flung it on Anya’s plate. He scowled. “You can have some! O-only because I can’t finish it all!”

Anya’s face lit up like the sun. “Thanks, Sy-on! You’re a good kid after all!”

“Wow, our boss really fell for that commoner’s cheap tricks…” Ewen hissed to Emile with a smirk. Damian was too distracted by his thundering heart to overhear him. And so the meal went on, with Anya savouring the hot chocolate Damain got for her. The messy way she was drinking led to another round of teasing. 

“Haha, you have a chocolate mustache!” The boys gleefully pointed at Anya’s face. Anya automatically wiped her lips with the back of her hand which disgusted the upper class kids. “Eww, use a napkin, you shrimp!” Ewen laughed. Damian sighed and gave Anya his handkerchief. She wiped her face again but it only made it worse. How did she get chocolate stains on her nose? Anya’s eyes were wide and confused. Honestly, this girl was so maddening. Damian sighed even more deeply. 

“Here.”

He took the handkerchief from her hand and gently swiped it at her nose. Anya blinked at him. Then for good measure, he wiped her lips to completely get rid of the chocolate mustache. 

“Wow,” Emile said with his jaw dropped. 

Then Damian jumped, his mind frozen. What had he just done? What had she just made him do? An all-too-familiar heat rushed up his cheeks. “I-I just didn’t want to look at those stupid stains on your stupid face, dummy! You already look like a clown everyday with that derpy expression!”

Damian just wished Becky was back at school so he didn’t have to look after Anya all the time! Anya was so… so stupid and cold and cute and he wanted to take care of her— no, no, he didn’t! He was just doing it for Becky! Argh, when was the Blackbell girl coming back—

“So you’re telling me,” Becky declared, her eyes wide, “that during the few days I was sick, Damian spent the entire period defending you from snowballs, then he bought you the most expensive hot chocolate, then he invited you to sit with his friends, and he wiped your lips with his handkerchief?!”

“Becky, I’m sorry, I’ll always sit with you at lunch! I’ll never betray you-”

“Never mind that!” Becky gasped. “Oh my gosh Anya, that was soooo romantic, even better than my shows, and you’re telling me I MISSED IT? Seriously? I can’t tell if I should be sick more often so you guys can be cute or should I never be sick again because I want to look at you two being all lovey-dovey! Squee! Oh no, but then I’ll be the third wheel…”

As Becky rambled on and on, Anya caught sight of Damian loitering in the corridors. When their gazes met, he stiffened and turned away. His thoughts came floating towards her.

“Ahhh, Becky’s back so Anya’s not my responsibility now! B-but why… but why do I still want to look after her! This is UNREASONABLE! And why is she so CUTE!”

Anya rubbed her cold hands together. Her meanie Sy-on boy was indeed nicer in the days Becky had been absent… maybe he was changing for the better! Anya had a flashback to the warm mug of hot chocolate he had gifted her. It tasted so rich and sweet on her tongue, and that must be the reason why she was feeling warm and happy! Anya nodded to herself, satisfied. 

But hidden underneath the layers of warmth was a queer little twist in her stomach. And when she looked at Damian in class, that twist only seemed to grow.

Chapter Text

07:32am, Eden Academy Stairs

“Sorry for being late, Sy-on!”

“Ahh, here I was wondering if my girlfriend ditched me.”

“Wow, it’s been all those years and you’re still a mega jerk, heh.”

“Seriously though, if it’s too tiring to wake up early and have breakfast with me, you can sleep in. I-I mean, we eat lunch together every day already! Just looking out for your well-being!”

“Ahh I see, you just wanna go back to eating inside your expensive cafeteria with the expensive food I can’t eat because I don’t live here—“

“W-wh- that’s not what I—“

“Relax, I’m just teasing you. Seriously, I just wanna spend more time with you! Because I like you!”

“…”

“Oooh, are you blushing again? Aww, you’re so easily affected by me, heh heh.”

“S-shut up!! Anyways, I brought you that apple crumble from the dining halls. So you can FINALLY stop bothering me about it!”

“Thanks Sy-on, you’re the best! Ahh, it does taste good!”

“…”

“…”

“…”

“… I know I’m pretty and all that, but what are you staring at?”

“You’ve got crumbs on your face, dummy.”

“E-eh?”

“Don’t move.”

“…”

“Aha! Who’s blushing now, dumbass?”

“Ack! So unfair, Sy-on!!”

09:12am, Lecture Hall

“Psst, is it just me or does Henderson’s mustache look extra curly today? It’s like a French fry, ha ha.”

“...”

“Oh, I should’ve known. You’re sleeping in class. Again. Tch, what a bad student.”

“... I’m not fully asleep yet, Sy-on.”

“Look at you, you can’t even keep those stupid beady eyes of yours open.”

“...”

“And you’ve got eye gunk. Some Imperial Scholar that you are, hmph.”

“Heh, you’re always so fussy.”

“...”

“...”

“Aaa, stop poking my cheeks… Anya wanna sleep…” 

“But your cheeks are so soft and squishy…”

“Geez, I can’t believe you actually said that out loud.”

“Oy, aren’t you the one who told me to speak my mind more because you’re tired of reading my thoughts?”

“Yeah, it’s because I like hearing your voice!”

“...”

“...”

“D-dammit! Stop looking at me like that, you weirdo!”

“Aaand Sy-on boy’s back to being a liar. So uncool.”

“I-I-I’ll show you how cool I can be! A-after all, I’m still from the Desmond family!”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever Sy-on boy.”

12:47am, Main Hall

“Man, Anya’s hungry…”

“Just a few more minutes now, Anya.”

“Aaaaa… I don’t understand why all of the Imperial Scholars have to attend the ceremony whenever someone else becomes an Imperial Scholar.”

“Oy, remember your place! You’re studying at Eden. We eat and breathe tradition even if you think it’s stupid because of your commoner braincells.”

“...”

“...”

“... Sy-on boy, your hands are kinda sweaty.”

“Eh?!”

“Must be because we’re holding hands under our thick cloaks, ehe.”

“W-wha- do you wanna stop holding then?!”

“Hmm? Do you?”

“OF COURSE NOT!”

“...”

“I mean… I don’t… I-I like it… I like you! B-but if you don’t want to then I suppose…”

“Nah, I wanna keep on holding hands with you. Forever!”

“...”

“Wow, your face is so red. You look like a clown, Sy-on boy.”

“S-shut up!! Don’t tease me like that in public!”

“Hehe, my Sy-on boy is a silly roasted tomato.”

“...”

“... Ooh, that’s an intense look you got there.”

“Y-you just said I-I’m yours…”

“Mm? Got any problem with that!”

“Yes! No! I-it’s just unfair for you to say things like that so casually!! ARGH!”

“Keep your voice down! We don’t wanna get a bolt.”

“Bold of you to say that, Miss Eight Stars and Seven Bolts!”

“Heh.”

“What a derp…”

2:14pm, Lecture Hall

“...”

“...”

“... Ah, Anya fell asleep again.”

“Yeah, you did, you absolute fool.”

“...”

“Y-you can look at my notes later! Not like you’ll understand them anyway, idiot!”

“You don’t have to keep on lying to my face. I literally know what you’re thinking, silly Sy-on.”

“...”

“By the way, thanks for putting your jacket over me! It smells nice, hehe.”

“Eh?! Wh-what did you just-”

“I said your jacket smells nice! Anya likes it!”

“...”

“Sy-on?”

“...”

“... Hmm, you’re not moving even when I pinch your cheek…”

“...”

“Keke, I think I broke you again… You really do make the funniest faces, Damian.”

“... You are seriously going to be the death of me.”

4:35pm, Eden Academy Cafeteria

“I knew it. Peanut flavoured ice cream tastes weird.”

“Hey, you’re the weird one for not liking it! Especially because you got mint chocolate which is basically toothpaste!”

“Hmm, now I’m the weird one?! What, did your brain get fried after our studying session?”

“Tch, Sy-on boy is a huge meanie. I don’t wanna look at you now.”

“...”

“...”

“You are, quite literally, looking at me right now.”

“Shh, let me stay mad at you for a little longer.”

“Whatever you say, dumbass. Also, I guess I’ll walk you to the bus stop after we finish eating.”

“Oh, that’s right! I talked with Pa and Ma and I might sign up to stay on campus next year. They’ve got a grant, you know. Then I can bother you even more, heh heh.”

“Ooh, that’s good news.”

“... And Pa says it’s so I can have more contact with the tutors to get my grades up…”

“Ahh, of course. You really are hopeless, Anya Forger- oy, your ice cream is melting!”

“EEK!”

“Tch, you’re making such a mess. Now both of our fingers are sticky.”

“Waaa, I’m so sorry, Damian…”

“...”

“Oho? You always get so flustered when I say your name.”

“B-because you usually use that stupid as heck nickname for me!! A-anyways, take this tissue and clean yourself up!”

“Sy-on is like my Pa… always so prepared…”

“We all have to be prepared around you, dummy!!”

“Don’t worry, Anya’s gonna become like Pa one day! I’ll be a super cool person saving the world!”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“HUH?? You don’t sound like you have faith in me!”

“Just take a look at yourself!!”

“Waaaa… you’re being mean to me again…”

5:03pm, Eden Academy Bus Stop

“So as I was saying, I enjoyed Spy Wars 2 over the original because it has better effects and cinematology-”

“Pssh, you sound so posh. Bondman’s character was massacred in the second movie! Of course the original is better.”

“I know you love Bondman but seriously, his character is pretty generic. He outwits his enemies, picks up a new girl every movie, disarms a bomb, like you can pretty much predict what he’ll do.”

“Ahh, Damian, you really don’t want to start this argument with ME, a literature student! Yes, Bondman is a typical spy, but he appeals to the masses because- ah, the bus is coming.”

“And just when our conversation was getting interesting. Well, I’ll talk to you later.”

“Hmph, what horrible timing. Guess I’ll have to say bye to you.”

“...”

“Eh? Sy-on? You’re getting close to me-”

“...”

“...”

“...”

“Oh… it’s a goodbye kiss… Becky would be so excited…”

“... N-now you’re all flustered too.”

“Heh heh, so are you!”

“Yeah, I guess…”

“... You know, even though school’s killing me right now, I kinda wish we can stay in this moment forever. It’s so peaceful, and everyone’s happy, and I’ve got people who love me…”

“Yeah, I know. It’s nice being here. It’s, umm, it’s nice being here with you.”

“And that’s why I’ll work hard to protect the world from the evil superbosses!”

“Here you go again with your silly superhero talk. Life’s not a movie.”

“Hey! I’m being serious!! I’ll protect you, Damian!”

“... And I’ll protect you too, Anya.”

“...”

“...”

“Heh, I think the bus driver’s getting impatient…”

“R-right! You should leave now before it gets dark and dangerous!!”

“Alright! See you tomorrow, Sy-on boy!”

“S-see you tomorrow!”

(He watched as she boarded the bus, and his eyes followed her until the bus melted into the mellow afternoon air. Knowing that he would still be around tomorrow, and knowing she would come back tomorrow, he walked home, a warm feeling fluttering in his heart.)

Chapter Text

Of all things Loid and Yor expected their daughter to become, they didn’t expect a Twitch streamer.

To be fair, Anya didn’t expect it either. She had no idea her wacky commentary on games would blow up a couple years ago. Even with her part-time job as a streamer, Anya managed to get surprisingly good grades which landed her in the famous Eden University. Unfortunately, the pandemic forced Anya to learn from her dorm at the university. She practically only went out for groceries. At least she could entertain herself by streaming. 

Under the name StarlightAnya, she livestreamed puzzle and adventure games with a niche for the detective genre. Her persona was goofy, childish and sometimes oblivious, but her audience adored her humour and passion. Instead of following the typical route in puzzle games, Anya jumped to strange conclusions (that often paid off), which made her more entertaining than most. Plus, she was a family-friendly streamer, which made her a big hit with the little kids and their parents. The kids thought she was funny. The adults thought she was silly but kind. 

At first, Anya only streamed with a crappy microphone. However, after a generous donation by one of her first subscribers, GriffinGuy, Anya bought a better microphone which drastically increased the quality of her streams. On her eighteenth birthday, she did a face reveal which went shockingly well. Her diverse range of facial expressions caused her popularity to skyrocket. Becky, her best friend, had advised against the face reveal. “You’ll only attract the simps that like you for your face,” she had scoffed. While people in chat did occasionally compliment her looks, Anya’s moderators kept things from going too far. And besides, most people only cared about how memeable her face was. In the year since her eighteenth birthday, Anya’s signature “heh” face had grown so popular that it had a Know Your Meme page. 

Anya quite liked her audience because they were respectful and supportive. Some of which she’d spoken to became core members of her community. So at 6pm, Anya set up a “Just Chatting” stream and waited for her audience to trickle in. She’d double-checked to make sure she looked presentable and wasn’t wearing anything embarrassing. “Hello chat! Hope you’re all having a good day!” Anya greeted. 

The messages of “o7” and “hi anya” flew in, and Anya animatedly talked about her day. Of course, she never revealed personal details such as the name of her university, but her experiences of buying groceries and fleeing from people were universal. Anya was busy ranting about the rising price of peanuts when a familiar ding! sounded. Anya’s eyes widened, then she grinned.

“Fifty gifted subs from Griffin? In a ‘Just Chatting’ stream? Aww, thank you so much!” As Anya’s chat spammed GriffinGuy with thanks, Anya continued. “Seriously, Griffin’s been supporting me from the start. They’ve always been my top dono and they helped me get my current setup. Send them some love in chat!”

Chat then started to talk about the mysterious Griffin. “Griffin’s been here as long as i remember” “GRIFFIN POGGERS” “griffin is lowkey a simp lmao” “Is GriffinGuy your sugar daddy or something” “GRIFFINGUY DA NUMBER 1 ANYA SIMP”

Anya scrunched up her nose as she read the messages. “Hey, I don’t think Griffin has ever spoken. I don’t even know their gender. Griffin is one of my first subscribers though, and I do treasure them even if they’re a silent lurker.” Anya then turned to the camera and beamed. “Griffin, if you’re watching, I really appreciate you!”

There was a pause. Then for the very first time, Griffin sent her a donation with a message. It simply read “Thanks for bringing your viewers so much joy - Griffin (actually a guy)”. Naturally, chat exploded at this new development.

“SIMP!” 

“griffin gender dropped baby!” 

“LMAO GRIFFIN” 

“lololol anya watch out for him”

“man really broke his silence after four years bc anya smiled at him. mood tbh” 

“GRIFFIN THE SIMP”

Anya wasn’t even looking at chat because she was too stunned by Griffin actually sending her a message. “Oh hey, you spoke!” She sounded genuinely delighted. “I’m surprised but I’m really happy.”

“To new followers: griffin basically got anya most of her gear. p sure he sponsored her first professional mic and facecam”

“griffin is a LEGEND in the starlight community” 

“is griffin anya’s little pogchamp”

“Moderator here: I can confirm Griffin has never spoken but is a loyal supporter on Twitch and Patreon. Anya speaks highly of Griffin in discord” 

“wasn’t griffin the guy who sent her a jumbo pack of peanuts for xmas? she was super pumped abt that” 

“this is what rich people do on twitch. send money to our meme queen.”

Griffin had never talked in Anya’s Twitch chat, but now he finally did, his username adorned with many subscriber badges. “I guess I’m finally speaking lol.” His message was received with instant enthusiasm.

“GRIFFIN HOW OLD R U”

“if he turns out to be a crusty a$$ im gatekeeping!!”

“griffin u can b my sugar daddy 2”

“WOOO GRIFFIN”

Griffin then replied with: “Guys I’m not creepy. I’m literally 20”

“ok lol”

“Seems legit”

“Griffin how did u get the money for anya’s first mic when u were 16”

“I think he’s just rich”

“AND A SIMP”

“sorry i cannot get over how griffin spoke for the first time bc anya said she appreciated him”

“brING OUT THE FANFICS /j”

“omg wattpad fic starlightanya x griffinguy”

One of Anya’s moderators, a certain Becky Blackbell, was quick to reply.

“Chat, behave or else I’ll bring out the ban hammer.”

Becky, under the name BelleBecks, was notorious for being strict on chat. Chat was simultaneously terrified but in awe of her. 

“NOOOOOOO!”

“naurrr not the hammer!!”

“We will behave! … I think”

Despite the messages in chat, Anya continued to speak about Griffin. “Man, I remember when I had like… seven or eight viewers? And GriffinGuy was always there even if they- if he never spoke. For a long time I thought he was just a bot or something until I mentioned I needed money and he just dropped a generous dono! And yeah, he did get me my first mic!” She grinned at the camera. “And this facecam too!”

A ding! sounded from Anya’s phone. It was a text from Becky. “anya bestie you’re free to say wtv you want but the chat’s going a little insane with griffin. ive had to delete SO MANY messages.”

Anya wrinkled her nose. “Chat, you guys seem excited!” She exclaimed. “The view count’s going up and I’m not doing anything!”

There was a pause and Griffin spoke up again. “Sorry, it’s prob my fault bc this is the first time I’m speaking”.

“Hell yeah griffin”

“guys i jusy came back from school WHATS HAPPENING”

“i believe in griffinguy supremacy AMEN”

“Nooo fr its so nice that griffins finally chatting after years of mystery…”

Anya read the last message out loud. “Yeah, it is nice!” She beamed at the camera. “I can finally properly thank him for all the support over the years!”

Her chat started buzzing with energy again and Becky raised her ban hammer (she was so famous for it that she even had a special hammer emote). She sent out one last desperate message to her best friend. 

“Anya, you’re making it worse…”

Online school was such a chore. Nobody ever turned on their cameras except for Professor Henderson. Anya desperately tried to keep awake during her history seminars and managed to do so with coffee and peanuts. Today, Henderson announced they would be doing a pair project online and would open those dreaded breakout rooms. Anya yawned and hoped she would get a smart partner. 

Anya joined the breakout room after a second of hesitance and stared at the screen in front of her. Right next to “Anya Forger” was “Damian Desmond”. Both had their cameras switched off and microphones muted. Then this Damian fellow spoke up.

“You wanna unmute or…?”

Anya started typing in chat. “I think we can just text.”

Damian replied immediately. “That’s fine by me. So, which topic do you want to do?”

Blunt and straightforward. This Damian guy seemed to be a good partner. Anya hoped he wouldn’t have ridiculously high standards.

“It would be basic to talk about the war and its consequences”

“I agree, but you can’t deny that lots of things nowadays are connected to the war”

Anya stared at the little text box in front of her. Then Damian speedily began typing again.

“(Not to argue with you)”

Anya huffed, and chuckled. 

“That’s true, maybe it would be better to focus on a specific aspect. Like nuclear development”

“Yep, yep, although I was thinking more about the structure of various governments…”

Anya and Damian managed to get each other’s contact. They both lived on campus, but decided it was unnecessary to meet each other because of the pandemic. They worked just fine online. No need to take additional risks. 

Damian Desmond did not have a parasocial relationship with StarlightAnya. He totally did not!

(Ewen and Emile, giggling, would say otherwise.)

Okay, he just happened to find her funny. And weird. And interesting. And comforting. Her early streams were a great source of joy when Damian was struggling with schoolwork. Damian remembered crying after a particularly harsh scolding by his father, and then StarlightAnya started streaming which proved to be an excellent distraction. Damian knew well enough about himself to not interact with the streamer because with his fragile mental state, he would just get overly attached to a stranger online (except he did get attached anyway even without ever chatting). He ended up falling asleep to that stream and woke up with his phone on 13% battery and his earphones tangled around his neck. 

Even when StarlightAnya had a crappy mic, he could see her potential. She was shy and awkward at first, but she was genuinely passionate and funny. And he supposed she had a nice voice— one that was dramatic and varied with her emotions. So he did the only thing he could do— fling money in her direction. And boy oh boy did that help.

Damian watched StarlightAnya grow like a proud… sponsor? A proud, slightly parasocial sponsor? He’d never asked for a face reveal nor did he really want it. It was selfish and gatekeeping of him but he wanted StarlightAnya to himself. She would always be that kind but hilarious girl who helped him remain sane during his toughest moments. She was a faceless stranger that he didn’t even know the real name of. He knew how old she was (one year younger than him) and Damian had to stop himself from fantasizing about bumping into her at class. Heck, he didn’t know where she lived! Except they were in the same timezone which did nothing to stop those foolish fantasies of his!

To put it in Stan Twitter language, Damian really needed to “touch some grass”. 

And then when StarlightAnya was eighteen, she did a face reveal.

She had been teasing it for a few months prior. Damian’s poor heart nearly jumped out of his chest when he realized she was serious. Soon, he would have a face to associate with that voice. Damian was desperately sure this would either kill his silly celebrity crush or make it so much worse. Damian’s fingers were shaking when he sent her money (as usual), and politely declined her requests for him to join her Discord server (as usual). He didn't want to be more parasocial than he already was, dammit! Damian felt like he didn’t deserve any contact with StarlightAnya. 

Damian was so nervous in the days leading up to the face reveal stream. He’d canceled outings with his friends and decided he would need five business days to recover from… whatever that would happen. 

So Damian, a nineteen-year-old from the respectable Desmond family, locked himself in his room and nervously waited for StarlightAnya to start streaming. His hands were sweating and his face felt hot already.

And then—

Damian stared. And he stared.

Okay, she wasn’t too pretty. Round face with squishy cheeks, a cute nose, and pink hair that curled at her shoulders. She didn’t look like a model he’d seen on the runways. She wasn’t devastatingly gorgeous in the conventional manner. That he could handle. Okay. Deep breaths, Damian. He could do this. 

Damian was so distracted that he forgot to donate. StarlightAnya happily answered questions while her fearsome head moderator BelleBecks mass deleted all the “simp” comments. Damian was almost tempted to ask her something, but his shaky fingers prevented him from doing so. It was only much later that he remembered to send his favourite streamer money.

“Ooh, two hundred gifted subs from GriffinGuy? You’re too kind!” StarlightAnya gushed. She beamed at the camera, and Damian was going to melt at her sweet smile. “I almost thought you were gonna miss this stream, ha ha. Was pretty silly for me to think like that when you’ve been with me from the beginning! You made me really happy!”

Fuck. Damian stood up, jumped in his room for five minutes, then started screaming into his pillow. His heart was pounding furiously and his entire face was burning red. Fuck!

This was why he would never speak to StarlightAnya. This was why he only threw her money but never tried anything else. If even the slightest smile could reduce him to such a mess—

Her pink curls framed her face. Her green eyes were twinkling when she thanked him. Worst of all, she looked exactly like his age and lived in his timezone. It wasn’t like he didn’t have a chance. 

After a Q&A session, StarlightAnya started streaming a detective game. Damian was blessed with her wide range of facial expressions that corresponded to the expressive voice everybody already knew about. The chat watched as Anya blithely chose the wrong option and failed. A big “DEAD END” popped up on the screen. Anya turned to the camera.

“Heh.”

WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?! Damian screamed to himself even as his heart sped up even more. WH-WHAT’S WITH THAT… DERPY FACE?? And why is she so… so… cute…

Chat enjoyed Anya’s memeable expressions greatly. Damian just sat in front of his stream, frozen, a blush on his face. And when the best and worst stream of his life ended, Damian knew he was completely and utterly fucked.

He had a terrible crush on a streamer. That he knew close to nothing about except for her favourite games and her favourite food and how much she hated math and—

Damian impulsively sent more money to StarlightAnya. He sure was putting his father’s money to good use by being a simp on Twitch.com. Damian slammed his laptop shut and fell backwards on his bed, his mind in a whirl. 

Touching grass wasn’t enough. Damian needed to touch an entire forest at this rate. 

So Anya could finally thank the kind sponsor who made her career possible in the first place. It wasn’t like Yor and Loid wouldn’t support her, Anya just knew she could excel at things other than streaming. After all, Anya liked to think she had a variety of talents. But it was Griffin who proved to her that she could indeed make an income. That people could be so invested in her content that they would give her ludicrous sums of money to continue. After years of streaming, GriffinGuy finally joined Anya’s Discord server and his entrance was met with great excitement.

“ANYA’S LITTLE POGCHAMP HAS ARRIVED!!”

“GRIFFIN POGGERS”

“little pog champ…”

“I wish I had a rich sponsor too LOL”

“griffinguy is the icon AND the moment”

Griffin seemed shy and only answered with short messages. Anya immediately sent “guys don’t scare him away lol”.

“Awww she’s protecting griffin”

“our streamer needs the cash LOL cant have him leave”

“WOOOOO”

“stargriffin /j”

Later, Anya sent Griffin a DM (despite Becky’s advice to not do anything towards “that simp”). Even if Griffin was mysterious, he didn’t seem creepy or a bad person. Seriously, Becky was worrying too much!

StarlightAnya: Hey Griffin, thanks again for supporting me over the years!

GriffinGuy: np

He seemed so calm and chill to Anya. (Little did she know he was screaming and panicking on his side of the conversation.)

StarlightAnya: I’m happy that you feel comfortable enough to join the discord!

Then GriffinGuy started typing for a few minutes. Anya anxiously waited for his reply.

GriffinGuy: It’s nothing against you really, I think you’re super cool and entertaining but I was just shy and didn’t want to get parasocial. I’ve always enjoyed your content from the beginning and I thought donating was the best way to show my appreciation. 

What sort of person would use proper pronunciation in a text message down to the unironic full stop? Apparently Griffin would.

StarlightAnya: yeah i understand what you mean, but i really do enjoy making internet friends with my community

StarlightAnya: so it’s all good!

Anya then sent out one of her famous “heh” stickers to Griffin.

GriffinGuy: Nice

GriffinGuy: :)

StarlightAnya: :D

Meanwhile, Becky had guessed what Anya was up to and started furiously messaging her.

BelleBecks: anya

BelleBecks: are you messaging griffin rn

StarlightAnya: yeah I slid into his dms :heh:

BelleBecks: sbakhls. i.

BelleBecks: can you PLEASE not word it like that

StarlightAnya: sorry it’s just funny :D

BelleBecks: i am saying this for your own good but stop feeding the simps… like it’s better to be safe than sorry

BelleBecks: this guy has been throwing you money since you were a teen, like he’s generous but also isn’t that a little suspicious? especially when he’s only speaking NOW??

StarlightAnya: I just wanna make friends…

BelleBecks: yeah ik but just be careful!! you never know

BelleBecks: maybe hes a stalker who knows where you live

StarlightAnya: heh 

StarlightAnya: as if it’ll be THAT easy

Anya Forger was out for her weekly grocery haul. With her mask on, she carefully navigated the aisles and avoided contact with others. Eden University was a campus university next to a town, and many of the residents were students. Anya went towards her favourite aisle— the one with peanuts. She happily stretched out her hand to grab a box, and then her fingers made contact with someone else.

Anya jumped as if she was stung by a wasp. Physical contact with another person? In this economy? How blasphemous! She stared at the tall stranger in front of her. He was around her age, so he was likely a student. His brown eyes were framed by long and pretty eyelashes. Anya found herself staring at him.

“Sorry,” the guy blurted out. His voice sounded vaguely familiar, but Anya couldn’t recognize him. 

“I’m sorry too,” Anya echoed. The boy shifted so she could grab the box. Anya felt strangely self-conscious under the guy’s gaze. Was he a stalker? Did she need to bring out her mom’s self-defense skills-

“Umm, sorry, b-but are you by chance a Twitch streamer?”

Now this question caught Anya off-guard. Some kids had recognized her on the streets before, but to be recognized by a (presumably) fellow student in a supermarket… Anya’s face felt hot. She could tell the guy was blushing even under his black mask. “Uhh, yeah!” Anya tried to smile.

“Starlight… Anya?”

“That’s me!”

Oh for Bondman’s sake, this was so awkward. Anya was going to call-off streaming for the next five business days. “Heh, do you watch my streams?” she asked. 

Please say no. Please say no. If you say yes I will have to punch you so hard that you’ll be flying across the entire aisle and hopefully you won’t be moronsexual enough to gain a crush on me. 

“No,” said the stranger.

Oh thank fuck.

“B-but I have a friend who does so… I kinda know of you.”

“Okay. That’s great.” Anya’s tone was unintentionally bland but she had no idea how to respond.

“A-anyways!” The guy’s face was so red now and Anya wondered if he was going to suffocate in that mask. “I’m leaving now!”

Anya watched as he ran away, looking surprisingly scared for someone her age.

Heh. That guy was a weirdo.

No. Fucking. WAY.

Did Damian just meet StarlightAnya in the freakin’ supermarket? In the flesh? Was she also studying at Eden University?

Damian felt like he was going to faint. It was a miracle that he’d managed to get home with all of his groceries intact, even if the cashier yelled at him for spacing out during payment.

And of course he lied and said he didn’t watch her. Of course she couldn’t know he was actually GriffinGuy and the massive simp/ sponsor/ supporter in the Starlight community. Forget about the face reveal stream, this was actually the new best/ worst day of his life.  

At least he hadn’t accidentally let it slip he was GriffinGuy. Or Damian Desmond. To her, he was probably just some nameless random creep from the grocery store. Damian tried to calm his racing heart.

Before he knew it, it was 6pm and time for StarlightAnya’s “Just Chatting” stream. For the first time in forever, Damian couldn’t bring himself to watch her. He tried to distract himself with that history project with a classmate who coincidentally shared a name with his stupid celebrity crush (ugh, what were the odds!). Unfortunately, Damian was not very successful. Too embarrassed to watch the stream (and hence see her face), Damian opted to go on Twitter to see what her viewers were talking about.

“hey starlighttwt moots is it just me or is griffin not here :/”

“umm that’s a real ass person, he can choose not to watch or he has some stuff to do /nm /gen”

“yeah but ive watched starlightanya for two years and he’s always there lol”

“rich guy doesnt know what to do with his time and money so he dedicates it all to our meme queen anya. lowkey simp behaviour lmao”

“OMG dont get me started on this bestie. like ik becks will kill me in the discord but my friends and i are lowkey shipping stargriffin HELP”

“SBAJKSBALJSA STARGRIFFIN HELP WHY DOES IT MAKE SENSE”

“PLEAAASE the way he shoves her money whenever she asks and how much she smiles when she recognizes his name… im going to hell for this naurrr”

Damian tossed his phone on his bed and it landed with a soft “thump”. His face resembled a roasted tomato and he almost started screaming in real life. WHAT THE HELL ARE THEY FEEDING THOSE TWITTER USERS?? He screeched in his brain. Shipping me with StarlightAnya… this is just crazy…

After a few minutes of internal panicking, Damian picked up his phone and started scrolling again. He couldn’t help it. His curiosity triumphed over his mortification.

“livetweeting: why does our queen look sad WHO HURT HER”

“update: oh dang its just bc her boyfriend (/lh /j) isnt watching”

“starlightanya has a bf? /gen”

“NOOOOOOO its just what we call griffinguy aka her top sponsor lmao”

“Shipping irl people is gross and disgusting tho like they’re real people. Log off and touch sum grass /gen”

“i’m literally a minor and neurodivergent” 

Damian’s mind was in a whirl. The only thing he managed to retain was that apparently she was sad? That he wasn’t watching? HUH???

It was so unfair. Now Damian knew he had to pop by the stream because his streamer was sad. He was simping past the point of no return. He deliberately avoided staring at StarlightAnya’s face and hastily sent her some bits. He trained his eyes on the chat which had messages zooming past.

“woo griffin hiii!!”

“as if he would miss a stream lol”

“Hi Griffin thanks for the gifted sub last time!! :DD”

“GRIFFIN IS HERE DONT BE SAD MEME QUEEN”

“Hey Griffin, thanks for the bits!” StarlightAnya said cheerfully. “I was just checking in with everybody. I hope you guys are having a great day because I kind of had a weird encounter at the supermarket…?”

Oh fuck. Damian knew exactly what she was going to talk about and his ears were already burning from shame. Still, he was curious to see how she reacted. It was like watching a trainwreck in slow motion except Damian was the train. 

“weird encounter??”

“lol is irl becks gonna hit them with a hammer”

“Okay.” Anya sat up straighter and stared at the camera in the eye. “So I was just doing my groceries and this guy my age asked if I was StarlightAnya. I, umm, panicked of course, and said yes. His face turned red, then he said his friend watched me. Then he immediately ran away. Huh.”

The embarrassment was hitting Damian full force. He forced himself to take a few calming breaths.

“LOLLLLL does he have a crush on you or sth”

“creepy weirdo”

“ok yeah but is he hot /j”

“SORRY BUT HE SOUNDS LIKE A SIMP”

“punch him in the face queen or else ill do it for you”

Anya raised her hands to cover her eyes. “It’s just embarrassing!” She complained. “Especially when he could be a student like me, chat! I really hope he’s not watching. I really hope he isn’t— ooh, thanks for the dono, Griffin! You really are spiritually supporting me in these trying times, heh.”

Damian made a strangled sort of noise. Said “weird guy” was indeed watching her and sending her money. Oh, this was an awful situation—

Wait. StarlightAnya just said he could be a student like her. Damian inadvertently thought of his random history groupmate Anya Forger. There was no way she was StarlightAnya, right? Because StarlightAnya wasn’t stupid enough to use her real name as her Twitch handle— actually, judging from her streams, she was. Damian facepalmed. Besides, it would be too much of a coincidence. Probability didn’t work that way.

Still, it was a thought that lurked in the back of his mind. And because Damian was an utter clown, he scrolled through his contacts until he hit “[Eden] Anya Forger”. They had exchanged a few messages about their project. It wouldn’t hurt to send her one now just to see if she was StarlightAnya, right? His hands immensely sweaty, Damian forced out one word after the other.

“Hi, I’ve just finished my bit for the project, you can read it and add stuff if you like. Thanks”

It sounded oddly worded. It sounded too formal. It also sounded too casual. But Damian was seriously not in the mood to write another text message, so he squeezed his eyes shut and sent the message. Then—

“Ooh, one second, chat,” came StarlightAnya’s voice. “Just got a text from someone— ah, it’s my classmate.”

Damian’s entire body froze. He stared at his phone’s tiny screen with the words “[Eden] Anya Forger is typing…”. He desperately took a look at the stream. StarlightAnya was staring at her off-camera phone and presumably typing. No, no, NO. This was NOT happening. Yet from his earphones, StarlightAnya continued to blithely say,

“Yeah, it’s a group project. Chat, I know you hate group projects, but my partner’s nice this time! I think he’s carrying our grade! He seems really smart, hehe.”

Damian watched as Anya Forger sent out “Sure, I’ll read it in a bit, thanks!”. There were a few seconds of silence, then StarlightAnya’s focus returned to the stream. “Alright, now that’s done, let’s talk about the new Mario track releasing next week…”

Completely flabbergasted, Damian stared at his laptop and phone. He couldn’t even deny it if he tried. His celebrity crush slash favourite streamer StarlightAnya was his project partner Anya Forger from Eden University. Oh hell. He just— he just accidentally doxxed StarlightAnya. And he’d just met her at the local supermarket, and she had no idea that he was her project partner or GriffinGuy on Twitch.

So Anya really was stupid enough to use her real name for her Twitch handle. Damian let out a frustrated groan. Honestly. If Damian wasn’t a decent human being (despite being the offspring of a decidedly not-decent human being), he could’ve easily exposed her. Anya Forger. StarlightAnya. And her face was plastered all over the Internet in the forms of popular memes and reaction images! Was she not worried at all?

Damian resisted the urge to search up Anya Forger’s socials even though it was perfectly normal for him as a fellow Eden student to connect with his peers. Heck, didn’t BelleBecks say she was Anya’s best friend in real life? He could jeopardize her identity as well. 

Damian was in no mood to watch Anya’s stream right now. Not when he knew she was actually his history partner. And they shared online lectures with Henderson. And they shopped at the same supermarket—

(He still kept his stream running to get those channel points even if he practically had an infinite amount of them.)

Damian squeezed his eyes shut and an image of Anya at the groceries appeared in his mind. Even without makeup and half of her face covered, she was still adorable. She seemed as bubbly as she was online. She was shorter than he had imagined, and Damian felt an odd surge of protectiveness. Not to mention she was actually pretty funny when they talked about their history project. Although her formatting and conclusions were… peculiar, to say the least, she did possess critical thinking (surprising for a university student!) and was committed to the project. She wasn’t a partner Damian would usually enjoy, but even her flaws were… endearing. Ah hell, she’d somehow managed to be Damian’s only exception. Damian’s cheeks flushed. 

And Damian couldn’t even complain about his love woes to his friends because he sure as hell was keeping Anya’s identity a secret. 

Damian spent the rest of the day with his mind exploded and heart jittery. Ultimately, when he stared at his ceiling at 3:18am, he decided he would at least try to be friends with Anya Forger. And be normal for once.

To Damian’s surprise and delight (coupled with substantial amounts of panic), he did end up becoming sort of friends with Anya Forger. Due to neither of them knowing a lot of other people at Eden, they started texting (read: bantering) outside of the history project. Anya told him which washing machine was always faulty at the launderette, and Damian reminded Anya to get those free Covid test kits. They were each other’s survival guides to Eden. Anya sent Damian photos of the food she cooked, and he snarked that they didn’t look that good. Anya grouched about how Damian was always ghosting her texts because he was “busy studying” (Damian was busy— busy panicking over how to reply). All in all, they got along well even without the entire secret Twitch streamer / sponsor dynamic that Anya was completely oblivious to. 

Damian Desmond and Anya Forger talked about school and lightly teased each other. Yet, as GriffinGuy and StarlightAnya, they were immensely polite and respectful. Although Griffin did make fun of Anya’s meme faces (like everybody else), it was a gentle, affectionate sort of making fun. Griffin continued to pour money towards Anya and Anya continued to thank him with the biggest smile. (Becky desperately continued to suppress the “simp” and “ship” comments.)

Damian and Anya were currently in the middle of Henderson’s lecture and Damian was struggling to stay focused. Damian gazed at the green dot next to “Anya Forger'' that indicated she was online. It was so stupid, yet Damian couldn’t help but embody the spirit of a wistful schoolgirl twirling her hair and sighing about her crush. 

Of course, it was simple for him to text her, but was he annoying her by frequently starting conversations? And maybe she was awake for once and studiously taking notes. Damian shouldn’t bother her. For one shining moment, Damian completely understood what Gatsby felt when he was longingly staring at Daisy’s green light on the other side of the harbour. (He still did not understand why he chose literature as an elective in high school, but at least Anya had chosen the same and they complained about studying The Great Gatsby together.)

Because Damian was an absolute clown and bored out of his wits, he ended up texting Anya anyway.

Damian: Lol are you listening to that old guy speak right now

Anya: no (:

Anya: lost track around 10 mins ago

Anya: just chatting with some friends 

Damian checked StarlightAnya’s Discord server and discovered she was indeed talking there. He half-heartedly used emojis to react to messages then returned to his DMs with Anya. 

Damian: You’re such a bad student lol

Anya: T-T

Damian: By the way do you have academic tutor meetings with Henderson

Anya: yeah next week or sth

Anya: at the arts and social sciences department building but that place is a MAZE

Damian: Yeah it’s gonna take 15 minutes to find out where room A03b is

Anya: if it’s gonna take you that long it’s gonna take me twice as long XD

Damian couldn’t help but smile. Anya might be a little dumb, but she was endearingly and hilariously so. The more he knew about Anya, the more he was falling for her, bit by bit.

Of course he securely kept his feelings under lock and key because he still felt like a creep. Perhaps all those months in quarantine had finally destroyed his brain if the years of watching StarlightAnya stream hadn’t already. Plus, they’d basically never seen each other in real life. 

At least, that was until they bumped into each other at their department building.

Anya was for some reason hanging out in the corridor when Damian emerged from his meeting with Henderson. “It’s so elegant that you’re showing interest in my area of study, Damian!” Henderson had gushed. And when Damian walked out of the room, he saw Anya stare at him, her green eyes flashing. 

“Wait, you’re the Damian I know?!” She blurted out.

Damian instantly felt his cheeks heat up when he remembered their mortifying supermarket encounter. “Y-yeah! Sorry that I didn’t tell you who I was because I didn’t know how to bring it up.”

Anya wrinkled her nose as she thought. “Wait, so the one I saw at the supermarket was you… which means…” Colour drained from her face. “You know I’m a streamer. And you know my actual full name.”

A bead of cold sweat trickled down Damian’s spine. “Uhh, yeah?”

“All this time we’ve been talking and you didn’t tell me you knew.”

Damian wanted to fall into a hole and die. Shit, was Anya mad at him? Was this how their tentative friendship would end? “I-I-it’s just awkward to say it,” he mumbled, his ears flaming. 

Anya seemed to take pity on how flustered he looked. “Hey, don’t be so scared, it’s not like I’m going to punch you for knowing.”

Damian inhaled. Oh, this wasn’t good. Anya was tugging on his heartstrings and he was suddenly, inexplicably frustrated. “Oy, what sort of idiot uses their real name on Twitch?!” he barked at her. Anya jolted, startled. 

“I was young and stupid back then!” She replied, then paused. “Oh well, I’m still young and stupid now.”

Great. They had just officially met for the first time in real life and they were already bantering like they always did on text. Blood rushed towards Damian’s face and he was grateful for the mask covering his cheeks. 

Anya was surprisingly chill with her secret being known. Then, maybe it was because they were friends. Damian breathed in through his nose. So long she didn’t know he was that mega simp GriffinGuy… 

Some time passed, and Covid cases waned enough that people were willing to go out again. The students in particular were ansty about being cooped up in their rooms, so Damian and Anya met up in a café for their project. (It was definitely not a date, not even a study date.) Damian cautiously removed his mask so he could drink his coffee, and felt Anya’s curious gaze on him. He flushed. “W-what?”

Anya beamed at him in the way she beamed at GriffinGuy. “Nothing, it’s just the first time I’ve seen you without a mask, heh.”

Ah, that was right. He’d always known what she looked like. He tried not to stare at her face. Especially her lips. His heart was thumping and he doubted it had anything to do with the coffee.

The duo worked with each other well enough, and soon the area was filled up with their chatter. Damian shifted so Anya could look at his laptop. “So about our project, I was thinking of citing this graph but the sources aren’t great…” Out of nowhere, a notification popped up on his screen—

“GriffinGuy: Chat with new people right now on Twitch!” 

Damian hastily slapped the notification away, but the deed was done. His mind was screaming and his blood had gloriously frozen. 

Damian knew it would be mere seconds until Anya donned one of her famous meme faces. He mentally prepared himself for the long explanation he knew he had to give to his friend/ online crush/ offline crush/ girl who had completely stolen his heart.

Anya was gaping at him, her pupils blown wide and her jaw comically dropped. Damian awkwardly cleared his throat.

“Well. Guess that cat’s out of the bag,” he peeped.

“YOU’RE- YOU’RE FREAKIN’ GRIFFINGUY?!”

Six months later:

Anya yanked a blushing Damian into view. “Hey guys, StarlightAnya here with my boyfriend GriffinGuy! I’m sure loads of you have questions—”

“AVSKALBSKA MY SHIP BECAME REAL?!?!?!?”

“ARE YOU /SRS OR ARE YOU /J”

“STARGRIFFIN SUPREMACY”

“simp”

“LOSING IT RN”

“OHH MY GOD”

“omg my parents!!!”

“FINALLY”

“GRIFFIN FACE REVEAL????”

“STARGRIFFIN IS CANON GET IT TRENDINGGGGG!”

A desperate screech from Becky. “I’ll have to put on the emote only mode!” She declared, fire gleaming in her eyes. 

“NOO BECKS NO”

“D: D: D:”

“<3 <3”

“XD XD XD”

“O.o”

“:D :D :D :D”

Once the crowd had calmed down, Becky allowed chat to speak again albeit under heavy moderation. 

“I thought Griffin was your online friend? How did you two meet up?” Anya read out loud from chat. She smiled at the camera. “Well, it turns out Griffin actually goes to my school! And I didn’t know until he recognized me! We were actually paired together for a project and it just… snowballed.”

Damian coughed. “Umm, yeah, remember how she said she once met someone at the supermarket? It’s embarrassing to admit but that was me…”

“GRIFFIN IS THE SUPERMARKET CREEP??? LOL”

“SBAKLSBKABSA GRIFFIN IS DOWN REAL BAD”

“This is just insane /pos”

“the coincidence haha”

“griffin is living the DREAM of all simps”

Anya read out the next question. “Griffin, how did you realize you like Anya? Like, was it from when you knew her as a streamer or as a friend?” She nudged her boyfriend playfully. “Oy, it’s your turn now!”

Damian deeply sighed. Anya shot him a grin, and he returned it (albeit with a bashful touch). “Well, it all began one night when StarlightAnya was streaming and I happened to open my Twitch app…”

Chapter Text

1.

Everybody knew how Anya Forger brutally punched Damian Desmond’s face on their first day at Eden. Her knuckles had collided with his fist and sent him gloriously flying across the corridor. 

Everybody also knew how that was the beginning of their peculiar, half-friends, half-rivals dynamic. Neither of them were able to figure out whatever they were, but they appeared to be content with their status quo. 

It was that day when Damian was disgraced for the very first time in his (admittedly short) life. This stupid commoner girl with stubby legs had barged into his life and subsequently, inexplicably snitched his heart. 

Damian remembered rubbing the bruise on his cheek, horrified and humiliated, while Anya’s bright green eyes stared at him. Those aggravating, annoying, yet cute eyes that made his heart run a million miles per minute. Dammit, what was up with her? And what was up with him for being so…so… affected?!

… He had a feeling the bruise, although temporary, would not be the only mark she would inflict on him. 

Thus at the tender age of six, Damian’s heart was carelessly stolen and doodled all over with a glittery permanent marker. 

2.

After their first meeting, Anya had learned to not punch Damian in fear of getting Tonitrus Bolts. She did all sorts of other things to show her displeasure, including but not limited to: poking him, nudging his ribs, pinching his cheeks, and so on. They continuously bantered for a few years, neither side willing to relent. 

Then when Anya was eight and Damian was nine, she punched him again. This time, it was an accident. 

You see, not everybody liked Anya. Some of her classmates found her weird and creepy, and her nonchalant “heh”s and confident smirks only irked them even more. They isolated Anya one day, and without Becky (and Damian) by her side, they decided to let out their frustration on her. 

They were all taller and stronger, gleefully laughing as they punched and kicked Anya. Anya, of course, as the daughter of a spy and an assassin, wasn’t going to back down. Except she already had her fair share of Tonitrus Bolts, and due to her existing offence of punching Damian three years ago, she’d been warned not to use violence or else she might be expelled. Obviously, self-defence was a perfectly valid option, except Anya knew not all of her teachers were fair and these bullies had influential families. Anya bit her lip, held back her tears, and tried to escape. Something slammed into her face and she stumbled backwards, her vision spinning.

“Cut it out!” Anya snarled, clenching her fists. “Or else I’ll-”

“You’ll what?” A bully taunted. “Hit us? And get expelled?”

“We’re gonna wipe that stupid grin off your face!”

“You’re so annoying, haha.”

Their cruel thoughts and words overwhelmed poor Anya and she squeezed her eyes shut. She did inherit some of Yor’s bloodlust, but she had to be in Eden for world peace. Her father’s goals felt like shackles on her wrists. Anya sniffled, a warm liquid (blood? Snot? Tears?) trickling down her cheeks. But Anya had always been a strong soul, bold and undefeatable. To hell with it all! I won’t forgive them! Blood pulsed in her ears and she raised her iron fist-

SMACK!

“OY!”

Anya paused and her eyes flew open. Heart stuttering, she recognized that voice. It was-

“Sy-on boy!” She gasped. 

Damian protectively stood between her and the bullies, an angry red mark on his cheek. It felt like deja vu. To Anya’s horror, she’d accidentally hit the one who came to save her. If he was mad, he didn’t show it. Yet. 

“Get away from her!” Damian growled, his shadow a comforting presence over the fallen Anya. “Do you think it’s fun to beat up some commoner girl? Why don’t you pick on someone your own size, huh?!”

Even with Damian on Anya’s side, they were outnumbered, but everybody knew of Damian’s status. One of the bullies swallowed.

“I’m the second son of the Desmonds,” Damian seethed, and Anya was surprised by how furious he sounded. Yes, he was always mad at her, but never to that extent. She could almost feel his rage boiling under his skin. “You don’t want to make enemies with me. And yes, I remember all of your names and faces. I bet the Tonitrus Bolts won’t be kind to you.”

Seeing that they were defeated, the bullies fled. Damian stepped forward, intending to chase after them, but realized there was something more important- or someone who was way more important. He crouched in front of Anya, his tone urgent. “Anya!”

Now that she could see Damian’s face clearly, she knew she’d given him a nasty punch. It had thankfully missed his eye, but part of his cheek was already swollen. Anya’s nose was suddenly wet. “Waa, I’m sorry I hit you, Sy-on boy… I didn’t mean to…”

“I-I know you didn’t! And besides, never mind that! We need to get you to the nurse’s office. Can you walk?”

Damian helped Anya up. She hadn’t broken anything, but she was still disoriented from the fight. She clutched Damian’s arm. “Heh, you came to save me… that’s kinda cool…”

Anya could see a blush rising on Damian’s cheeks, making his red mark look even redder. “I just c-couldn’t stand their nonsense! Don’t get the wrong idea; I would’ve done it for anyone else!”

… While the last part was true, Anya knew she was the one he was always the most worried about. It was sweet of him. 

Anya gave a chuckle. “Of all the times I could’ve punched you, I actually chose the time when you didn’t deserve it.”

“It was worth it…”

Damian’s thoughts rang loud and clear in her mind. “Well, I-I guess it can’t be helped,” he muttered quickly before he could regret saying those words. 

Anya smiled to herself. “Hmm, you’re a nice person after all…”

“HEY! Shut up! I’m always a nice person; just who do you think I am!!”

3.

Back when they were first graders, Anya claimed Damian had run into her hand while she was stretching it. Obviously, judging from the force that he’d crashed against a wall, that was false. But six years after that punch, miraculously enough, Anya’s lie came true. It happened like this: 

Eleven-year old Anya had a problem of sleeping in class. Of course, everyone automatically regarded her as a bad student, but Anya knew she was just using way more mental energy than her peers. She had to actively suppress her mind reading skills while focusing on her lessons. At the same time, she was trying to discover updates to Operation Strix and wondering how long her parents could keep up the act. This was all very draining for a child and Anya knew she needed a break. So after Henderson’s history class, a groggy Anya stumbled out of the stuffy room for a bit of fresh air.

Anya sleepily rubbed her eyes. The sky was a pretty shade of blue today and her hair fluttered in the breeze. It honestly was a nice day out- too bad she was stuck at school. Eh, maybe she could ask Becky for a picnic over the weekend. Anya allowed her mind to wander from schoolwork and world peace. She was vaguely aware of people’s thoughts around her but she tuned them out. This moment of peace and quiet was reserved for her and her only.

Yor’s warm up exercises came to mind. Anya raised her arms and yawned- ah, it felt good after stiffly sitting in class for hours. Absentmindedly, Anya copied her mother’s warm up routine. She stretched her arm to the side and her lips parted as she counted to herself. One, two-

Something unexpectedly soft collided with her fist. 

-three?

Anya turned her head. To her surprise, Damian was standing right in front of her fist, a light dusting of pink on his cheeks. He appeared to be running towards her and had accidentally run into her hand. Damian screeched and instantly jumped backwards.  “Y-you-”

Normally, Anya would’ve shot him one of her winning smirks that never failed to fluster him (seriously, it was soo fun to play with Damian). But now, Anya’s gut was telling her she was missing a crucial piece to his scenario. Thus, she continued to stare at a frozen Damian. Damian had clamped a hand over his lips, a furious blush working its way up his face. Anya retreated her fist and stared at it. Ah, that was right. His face had hit her hand-

Wait.

Wait.

The gears turned in Anya’s head. And then she remembered.

Coincidentally, her fist was the right height for his lips to collide into. Which meant he’d accidentally- he’d accidentally kissed her hand. 

Okay, smooching was weird and disgusting for kids their age! No wonder that Sy-on boy was looking so flustered. Eww, Damian’s lips had touched her skin. Anya nonchalantly wiped her hand on her uniform and then even shook it for good measure. Anya’s peers were at the age in which they all thought boys were gross and Anya couldn’t help but be affected by their mentality. 

As usual, Damian was not as composed as she was. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE IN THE CORRIDORS, IDIOT??” He fired at her. As Damian grew up and matured over the years, he stopped yelling at people as much, therefore Anya knew he was seriously agitated (for some reason).

Anya innocently blinked at him. “I was just stretching and you ran into me. I didn’t punch you this time, Sy-on.”

Actually, neither of them remembered a lot from first grade, but the iconic punch was permanently engraved into both of their minds. Anya’s words were almost a repeat of what she said, except she was actually telling the truth. She tried to pry into her dumb Sy-on boy’s mind.

“DID I JUST KISS HER HAND??? Nooooo! This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen- wait I don’t even want THAT to happen!! B-but this is just really awkward… it should’ve been at a dance, a waltz, or something fancy, and I would take her hand and-”

Anya didn’t read any further. She thought Damian would be disgusted by their unintentional contact but he just seemed… nervous? Almost shameful? Wait, Damian wasn’t grossed out by her? What was going on?

When Anya tried to read Damian’s mind again, his thoughts had melted and all Anya had access to was glimpses of images and emotion. Pink-tinted bubbles and fluff and starry sparkles… huh, what was that about? It was different from Becky and Fiona’s desperate screams coupled with weird symbols. This was softer, gentler, and highly uncharacteristic of Damian’s thoughts. Damian stood there, shell-shocked, warmth unfurling from his heart like a spring flower. And as Anya tried to read his mind, some of his feelings must have also rubbed off on her, because an odd but comforting warmth settled in the pits of her stomach. It felt like savouring a warm mug of hot chocolate in the wintery cold, specifically the expensive Eden ones with marshmallows that Damian bought for her every year.

Wait, Damian. That Sy-on boy. 

Why was he still standing there like the dummy he was?

“Wow, Sy-on boy is frozen,” Anya idly commented, and that seemed to do the trick. Damian jolted, his cheeks flushed. “I-I-It’s all your fault, idiot!”

Damian took a shaky step behind and shoved his (probably sweaty) hands in his pockets. This was Damian’s defensive position, one he usually took when he was feeling threatened by Anya (she’d come to know that over the years). 

“Hey, what did I do wrong?” Anya prodded him further. 

“NOTHING!” Damian blurted out too quickly, then he realised what he just said and hastily added, “EVERYTHING! Ugh! You’re-you’re bothering me!” And without another word, Damian literally ran away, his cheeks flaming. 

“Ahh… I’m such a creep…”

Anya perked up. Why did Damian think he was a creep? Sure, he was annoying and arrogant, but he’d never been creepy… at least, that was what she thought. She stared at his retreating figure, the pink bubbles he left behind still lingering in her mind. 

Anya stared at her fist and wiped it again for good measure. Still, she felt the imprint of his lips on her knuckles. She thought she wouldn’t like it, but it turned out she didn’t really mind- and that was what confused her the most. 

… Eh. Anya was tired from school, and she was probably affected by the weird fluffy stuff she had just extracted from Damian’s mind. This would likely pass and Anya would return to how she felt before.

(Somehow, deep inside her, she doubted it was that simple.)

4.

After all these years, Anya was finally an Imperial Scholar. Damian had become one two terms ago, and now she’d caught up to him. Damian, unfortunately, was not the first in his year to become an Imperial Scholar, and had only managed to do so at the age of fourteen. (Everybody was still very impressed of course, but Anya knew Damian was disappointed in himself because his brother had gotten his eight Stellars when he was thirteen). So when Anya, legally fourteen but actually thirteen, snatched her final Stellar Star (with six bolts to her name), she had smugly smirked to herself. Aha! Anya could be smart! Smarter than her peers even! 

It had long been known that Plan B would never work, not because Anya and Damian could never become close (they did end up being friends), but because Damian didn’t go home often and his father didn’t care for him anyway. Anya and Twilight persevered, and they finally won the esteemed seat of an Imperial Scholar. Operation Strix could proceed faster than ever. 

Imperial Scholars had a lot of duties, and one of them included “representing the school”. Which meant they had to dutifully stand on the stage whenever guests visited. Anya had always loathed those because it meant she couldn’t sleep during long assemblies. She usually stood next to Damian who would give her a rough nudge whenever she started leaning against him. (Damian’s interesting inner thoughts also helped to keep her awake.) Today, a politician (who wasn’t important to Operation Strix, so Anya knew nothing about him) was visiting for a speech, and yet again the Scholars were expected to appear. Except Damian had soccer practice right before and he had to hurry to make it on time. 

As Anya stood with the other Scholars in a line behind the hall, Damian was nowhere to be seen. Oh no, it wouldn’t do good for the second Desmond son to be late. Anya could only hope Damian could arrive quickly or else she might resort to sabotaging the assembly (again. Don’t ask about her first sabotage). Anya liked to think she was sort of like Eden’s Twilight with how many secret missions she carried out for the sake of world peace. 

“Coming through!”

Damian’s familiar mop of hair appeared in the crowd and he hurried to his spot next to Anya. Anya could tell he was still sweaty from practice and it didn’t help they had to wear those thick Imperial Scholar cloaks. He dabbed at his face with his handkerchief (which was actually her handkerchief that she’d lent him in their first year and he’d never returned it, but that was a story for another time). 

“Heh heh heh, you almost couldn’t have made it, Sy-on boy,” Anya teased him with her characteristic infuriating grin. “You just have five minutes to spare!”

“I know,” Damian muttered as he frantically styled his hair. A female associate offered him her pocket mirror (pssh, Anya should’ve done that too! She needed to be more prepared). Anya gazed at Damian. His face was flushed from running, but she could see the pallor underneath it. Ahh, he had to be exhausted and hungry. Anya smirked to herself. Now this she had prepared for!

“Pssst, Sy-on.”

Damian didn’t reply. He was still intently staring at his reflection as he tried to fix up his appearance. Sometimes Damian ignored Anya on purpose, but she could tell this time he wasn’t.

“Damian!”

Ahh, saying his name always did the trick. Damian spun around. “Hmm?”

Anya could see a stray cowlick extending from the top of his head. Instinctively, she reached out a hand and smoothed it, therefore giving him an unintentional headpat. Damian’s heart stuttered. “E-eh?”

Heh, Damian’s reactions were so funny. He was so predictable, yet still cute. Wait, Anya was getting distracted from her mission! Ignoring the queer twist in her stomach, Anya swallowed.

“I know you get hungry after soccer practice sooo I visited your dorm mom and got you some of her cookies!” Anya beamed at Damian, knowing full well that would make his heart go crazy. She pressed the tiny bag of cookies into his hands. “Here!”

Damian was always a picky eater (even though he ended up eating whatever Anya made for him), and his dorm mom’s cooking was his absolute favourite. So this would definitely make Damian like her and contribute to Plan B- wait, she didn’t even need Plan B anymore. Anya faltered for a bit even as warmth seeped into her heart. She still wanted to get close to Damian because… well, because it was important to have a backup plan! All for world peace! 

“Ah, you remembered!” Damian took the cookies and hastily shoved them in his mouth in a way that would make Henderson scream “NOT ELEGANT!”. He looked at Anya, a slight blush on his cheeks. “T-thanks, Forger.”

“Hehe, I’m the most awesome and considerate person in the world.”

“... Now you’re getting on my nerves.”

Damian had to eat very quickly because they would go on stage in mere minutes. He wolfed down the cookies with impressive speed and licked his lips. Anya found her gaze drawn to him somehow, and he noticed. “W-what are you looking at?!”

“You’ve got something on your face.” Anya reached forward and gently brushed cookie crumbs off his cheek. Damian froze in shock. All the other Scholars were staring at them, their thoughts loud and chaotic. 

“Was she caressing his face?! Don’t they know they might be punished for public displays of affection?!”

“Aaaaa I wish I could touch my sweet Damian’s cheeks too…”

“It turns out Blackbell is right after all! They have to be a couple! SQUEEE!”

“Ugh, stop making us single people feel like trash.”

Anya quickly retreated her hand. There was a pause as she and Damian just stared at each other, their stomachs fluttering. Anya had touched Damian’s face over the years, accidentally or not (the punches came to her mind), but this was… different, somehow. Something had shifted in the atmosphere. 

Damian flushed. “I, err, umm, we should get going!”

As if on cue, the doors to the hall opened and the Scholars all silenced. In two neat lines, they filed into the hall, heads held high and their posture perfectly elegant. Damian and Anya walked next to each other, their cloaks brushing against each other. 

And when they stood on the stage, she purposefully shifted closer to him until she could almost feel the imprint of his hand through their cloaks. 

5.

… Ahh, how the tables had turned.

Fifteen-year-old Anya finally admitted to herself that she had feelings for Damian. And he’d liked her ever since he was six. They had been classmates and friends for ten years. Given these facts, they would quickly get together, right?

Wrong.

Because Damian was a Desmond, and Anya was the daughter of his father’s archenemy. And even without that, Damian was born into the upper class circles while Anya was just a commoner. It was- he was just never hers to lose. They were never meant to be. 

Damian’s family was already pressuring him to marry someone of their choosing. Damian was merely sixteen, yet he was already about to be engaged. All his life, Damian had known being with Anya wasn’t possible, but he indulged his fluttery feelings until it wasn’t possible anymore. It was only then when he showed some self-restraint and locked up his heart to prevent it from shattering further. 

Damian found Anya in an abandoned classroom after school had ended. She was perched on a table like a figment of his imagination, the last rays of the sun illuminating her figure. The light made her look like a hazy dream, someone intangible and untouchable. Damian swallowed. “Hey.”

She turned, those lovely green eyes casually breaking his heart into a million pieces. “Hey.”

The silence hung heavy between them. This hour was technically their last hour of freedom, but neither of them knew what to say. After realizing each other’s feelings, they had never really dated, let alone kissed. They both knew it wouldn’t last, so why bother? 

Anya walked up to him. “... You’re going to talk to her after this, then.”

She knew the answer, but he replied anyway. “Yeah,” he muttered, eyes cast down. 

“Alright. Then, I guess this is goodbye!”

Damian lifted his chin, surprised by Anya’s sudden light tone. Her fist was thrust in his face and before he could blink, her knuckles brushed past his lips. Playful, innocent, yet surrendering to their reality. 

… This was the closest thing to a kiss they would ever get. This was the closest she would ever get to calling him hers. 

Anya still managed to smile when Damian stepped out of the room. She even waved at him. After all, she knew he could never bear it when she cried. But when he finally vanished from view, her smile crumbled like sand. She lowered her right hand and stared at the fist.

She brought it to her face, then softly, so softly, her lips ghosted the knuckles that’d marked him all those years ago. 

6.

Everything was going wrong. Operation Strix was not supposed to conclude like this. 

“DAMIAN!” Seventeen-year-old Anya screeched as the mansion went up in smoke. Explosions boomed and Anya watched in horror as fire consumed everything in sight. Even Handler in their comms was stunned for a second before barking out orders again. 

Everything was going terribly wrong. She knew they were done for when the usually emotionless Nightfall had a sliver of fear in her eyes. Anya instantly activated her powers and scanned the area for human consciousness. Everybody knew Damian was inside the mansion, but it hadn’t been proven that Donovan was, so what was the point of the explosions? Miscommunication? A third party trying to sabotage the Desmonds?

Before she knew it, Anya was running. She held a handkerchief to her nose as she vanished into the smoke, ignoring the protests coming from other agents. Her eyes stung, from both the smoke and her despair, but she refused to let it hinder her. 

A weak consciousness drifted past and Anya clutched onto her very last hope. She couldn’t hear any intelligible thoughts but she recognised the consciousness— as weak as it was, it had to be Damian. After all, she had a decade of experience. Anya’s heart leapt. At least he wasn’t dead— yet. 

Anya blindly stumbled after the consciousness. It wavered and she sometimes lost track of it, but she always found it again. Anya was aware she was making her Pa panic terribly, but that was a necessary evil. Damian was depending on her right now.

… Damian. The son of her target. One she’d initially disliked, then later begrudgingly became friends with, which grew into genuine friendship and then something more. Except they’d nipped that in the bud. Still, they always watched out for each other. For Anya, it would be so much easier if he’d gotten over her for real. But no, she understood his secret glances and stole seconds just to be with him. An awkward joke, a random question about homework, their true intentions never said. They’d known each other for so long that she didn’t even need to read his mind. It was all too painfully easy to read the emotions painted on his face. 

At least Damian seemed to be away from the heart of the mansion. Anya climbed over the debris and navigated through the burning embers. A figure lay slumped on the ground and Anya screamed his name again. 

Half of Damian’s face was bleeding and his eyes were struggling to stay open. He barely reacted to Anya crouching above him. Anya reached for her first aid materials but it wasn’t enough. She blinked back her tears. Damian was so precious to her even when he was engaged to someone else. He was her stupid Sy-on boy, after all.

Anya could hear Twilight’s thoughts which meant he was coming after her. Good. She needed his help. She desperately soaked up Damian’s blood with bandages and handkerchieves. Her trembling fingers brushed past the black ash on his pale cheeks. 

Once upon a time, she’d punched his face. Now, she would risk her life to protect him. 

“Don’t worry, Damian,” she breathed out, tearing up from the smoke and something more. “I’m here.”

7.

The years flew past and the world remodeled itself under their watchful eye. The threat of the National Unity Party was gone. Finally, finally-

They were free.

Reverently, he took her hand. He felt the calluses that had accumulated over the years and tenderly ran a finger over them. He heard her giggle- ah, he would never get tired of her laughter. 

Then he lowered his head and kissed her knuckles, lips touching the cool metal of her wedding ring. 

“Congratulations,” he whispered against her skin.

Her smile was so beautiful and bright. She raised her hand so she could affectionately cup his cheek, right against all of his faded bruises and scars.

“Congratulations indeed.”

Chapter Text

School might be out for the day, but that didn’t mean Damian had to stop learning. After all, the heaps of homework on his desk needed attending to. But today, Damian had more important matters than being cooped up in his room. He took out his sketchbook with high-quality paper and his expensive set of coloured pencils. With a self-satisfied smirk, he strode out to the garden behind Eden Academy while plotting out his new strategy to get a Stellar Star- only for a familiar shade of pink to pop into his view. Damian scowled.

“Oy, what’s the shrimp doing here?”

Anya turned and started sniggering for no reason. Damian felt a sudden wave of helplessness. “Heh, Sy-on boy is also here… I can spend time with him, haha.” The last sentence was more of an afterthought to herself.

Damian’s face instantly reddened without explanation. HUH?? Wh-why does she wanna spend time with me? Anya’s cute, wide-eyed look was like an arrow shooting his poor heart. This commoner girl… always seeking my attention… don’t tell me she… she likes-

Then he saw what Anya was holding- a cheap notepad fit for a peasant and a pencil that looked like it was chewed on at the end. “HEY! You’re copying what I’m doing!” He accused, jabbing a finger in her direction. Seriously, what is up with that runt?! Damian screamed to himself. Can she read minds or what?

Anya looked at him oddly like she always did, then retorted. “What’s wrong with trying to earn some extra credit for art class? Gonna bag it all for yourself, eh Sy-on?”

Damian’s heart thumped, frustrated (or maybe it was due to something else). He knew Anya was right. Their art professor wanted them to sketch objects found on the vast territory of Eden Academy, and to reward diligence, he said he would award higher marks to rare or hidden objects because it showed the student had done more effort. Naturally, Damian was on the hunt for some cool and special objects, and just as naturally, Anya had somehow stolen the idea from his brain. 

Anya stretched out a hand. “We can work together! Double the speed and double the profits!” She cheerfully proclaimed. 

Ugh, really? Doing projects with Anya would only drag down his speed but the idea of spending time with Anya alone… in an enclosed garden… where no one could see him (therefore no one would make fun of him being with a commoner)... that made Damian’s heart flutter. Just a tiny bit, mind you! He stared at her for a few more seconds, stupefied by his silly fantasies. “A-alright!” He finally declared. “B-but it’s only because you gave me no choice, runt!”

Anya smirked, which only aggravated him further. “Heh heh heh… my master plan is working…”

Damian didn’t like being kept in the dark. “Oy, what do you mean by master plan?!” He shot at her.

A smug grin. “My master plan to become an Imperial Scholar and then visit your house, of course!”

Damian’s brain stuttered once again. Why is she still so insistent on coming to my mansion? I could buy her so many things- dresses, dolls, even jewels but she just wants to see the STUPID house? Wh-what does she want?

It was then when Damian recalled a conversation between his father and Demetrius. “Demetrius, it’s about time you seriously consider extending the Desmond bloodline. When are you going to bring a nice and respectful girl to our home?” Huh, did Anya want to marry into the family and be a rich girl because she was tired of being called a peasant? Which meant… did Anya want to marry him? But he wasn’t even going to inherit the mansion, for goodness sake! A-and he had no one idea how many children she wanted, or what colour wallpaper she liked, and—

Now Anya was staring at him weirdly again. Damian flinched. She always had an aura that made it feel like she was prying into his thoughts. “Oy!! St-stop staring at me! Let’s just go!”

And so he boldly brushed past her to walk towards the garden.

The garden at Eden Academy was filled with marble statues of famous people. They were fairly accessible though, so they weren’t Damian’s target. Still, he wanted to show off. Because he always liked showing off, and it wasn’t just because Anya was there! He didn’t want to specifically impress Anya or anything!

“My father’s gonna get a statue here!” He bragged to Anya and jabbed a finger towards an empty spot.

Anya blinked. “Your evi- superboss father? Is it true?”

Damian gulped. “W-well, it’s not confirmed but he is the chairman of the National Unity Party so he should get one!” He declared. “My father is so powerful and he’s gonna change the world!”

“My parents should get one too!” Anya added brightly. “Because Ma’s an assa- assistant at the Town Hall! And Pa’s a spy-psychiatrist!!” 

Damian scoffed. “Blergh, commoner people's jobs don’t deserve to have statues.”

“Yeah, what a jerk,” Anya deadpanned, and Damian flushed hotly. Before he could retort, Anya quickly changed the topic. “So do you think you’ll get a statue, Sy-on?”

“H-huh?” Considering the size of Damian’s ego, it was surprisingly he genuinely hadn’t considered that. “I don’t know… it depends on whether I’ll be a good politician…”

Anya, for whatever reason, possessed an even larger ego than he did. “Heh, I know Starlight Anya will get a statue!” She shot him a self-satisfied grin. “I’m gonna bring about world peace! I’ve saved my Pa’s life! I even saved that drowning kid that got me a Stellar Star!”

“Wow, you’re just shameless,” Damian blurted out before he could stop himself. He squinted at the statues towering over him. “You’ll need to be well-respected and have significantly contributed to society… and you also have to be noble and honorable. It’s not easy.”

Damian caught sight of Anya staring at him, and his heart jumped. “I-I mean! It’s not impossible!” He hastily added in case he’d hurt Anya. “A-and! Maybe we can both have statues in the end!”

Anya brightened up at his words. “And they’ll be next to each other!”

Wh-why would she say that?! Damian screeched to himself, his palms sweating. “You’ll be so short and ugly next to me, RUNT!” He instinctively fired an insult towards her even as forbidden images raced across his mind- marble statues of him and Anya next to each other, perhaps even with their hands touching, or maybe they would somehow share a statue, carved from the same block-

“Maybe you’ll become a good enough politician!” Anya exclaimed. “And work for world peace and not become an evil superboss with a receeding hairline and nuclear bombs!”

Well, that was oddly specific. “Well, alright, but what will you do to earn the spot?”

Anya’s smile was unwavering. “I’ll stay by your side and make sure you don’t start a world war! And we can both achieve world peace together!”

… Damian’s mind had already stopped working when he heard “I’ll stay by your side”. His poor heart was about to explode. WHY DOES SHE WANNA STAY BY MY SIDE?! She wants to work together with ME in the future? B-but I’m a Desmond! Anya was still looking at him expectantly, and he faltered even more. But she possibly can’t become a politician with those grades, so how can she be with me- d-don’t tell me she wants to marry- NOOO I CAN’T BEAR IT! SHE CAN’T BE MY WIFEEEE! Damian felt like he was going to pass away from being fried alive by his emotions.

“Well, I guess I don’t mind if you… stay by side,” Damian managed to get out even if one word cost him one year of his lifespan. He blushed. “JUST DON’T GET IN MY WAY, SHRIMP!”

“You’re being extra weird today, Sy-on boy,” Anya told him bluntly, and Damian flushed even more.

“It’s only because you’re here, stupid!!”

Despite their bantering, they managed to make their way past the garden and into the woods. It was afternoon so it was still bright, but the shade from the leaves cast shadows on the ground. Their conversation (if their bickering could be regarded as one) came to a halt as both of them stared at trees looming in front of them. Damian instinctively shuffled closer to Anya- just because she was stupid enough to be afraid of the dark woods, not because he actually cared about her or anything!

“There has to be something interesting in there, right?” Anya piped up. 

“Yeah, I bet.” Damian took a step forward. “Come on. And don’t get lost this time.”

Damian remembered they had gotten lost when they were camping, and it was all because of stupid Anya with her stupid navigation skills. It was even raining then and they hid in a cave. They were both terrified out of their wits although Damian would never admit that to her. And then… and then they held hands. For an unreasonably long time. Because he didn’t want her to be scared of the thunder.

“I’m leading the way!!” Damian snootily announced. “Because I don’t trust you and your stupid commoner braincells.” 

Anya started sniggering. “Sy-on you jerk, you sure do wanna show off. But fine! Anya will let you (for the sake of world peace).”

Damian grumbled under his breath but nonetheless began walking. They could see nothing but trees and a bare dirt path. Damian recalled the navigational skills he learned from Mr. Green and puffed his chest. Aha! He was smart and cool and he was the son of the Desmonds! He could do this job perfectly. 

Anya was trailing after him. Hah, there was no way that pathetic commoner couldn’t keep up- wait. Damian turned around. Where is she?

Before Damian could panic, a familiar voice sounded. “Whoops sorry, I got distracted by that cute squirrel!” Anya blithely declared like she didn’t know she could easily cause a heart attack. “And I left you for a bit because the trees were so dark and I couldn’t see…”

“Dammit!” Damian growled. “Stay close to me. You really are hopeless.”

“Fiiiine. Geez Sy-on, you’re like a mean version of my Pa. (Except my Pa is way cooler than you’ll ever be, hmph!)”

Damian took a step forward and felt a tug on his shirt. He looked back to see Anya’s fist clenched tightly around the fabric- huh?? Wait, was she- was she holding onto him? B-because she was scared or something?! Or did she trust him that much? Or maybe she just wanted to get close to him when no one could see- nooooo don’t think about that…!

Usually, Damian would be armed with a snarky comment, but now he was rendered speechless because he was simply too tired to fight against the enigma that was Anya Forger. He grumpily trudged on, his face permanently red due to Anya’s tiny hand grabbing his shirt. 

“You’re so loud, Sy-on boy,” Anya suddenly said.

“Eh? I haven’t been saying anything-”

“Oh. Heh heh, never mind. Anya was just hallucinating.”

HUH???? Now that definitely wasn’t concerning at all. Why was she hallucinating his voice in a forest? Maybe… she was thinking about him! And imagining him saying things to her! And she oh-so-wanted those words (whatever they were) to be real so she hallucinated them! Yes! NO! THIS MAKES NO SENSE AT ALL! Anya had barely done anything but he was already a mess. Great.

Thankfully, both of them were immediately distracted when they saw a pavilion in the middle of a shallow pond. Lily pads idly floated on the clear surface, and a bridge of smooth rocks crossed the pond and connected to the pavilion. This little serene spot was nestled in the woods, thus it was definitely “rare” and “hidden”. Damian’s face lit up. Ohh, this would get him a good grade! He was lucky to have stumbled on this place! Damian promptly plopped down on a rock and took out his sketchbook. Then he noticed Anya staring at the pavilion.

“... Oy, what are you doing?”

Anya shrugged. “Becky said in one of her romantic dramas, the main character loved his wife so much that he built a pavilion for her and planted her favourite flowers around it. But Anya doesn’t really like flowers, so peanuts are fine.”

EHH?? Why was Anya telling him this? Damian’s heart speeded up. Don’t tell me she’s giving me ideas… but ideas for what?? Do I have to buy her one of those pavilions? A castle? Or the entire Bondman amusement park? OR JUST A BAG OF PEANUTS- wait, why am I even panicking about her?! I don’t CARE! I DO NOT CARE ABOUT THIS GIRL!

Anya shot him a curious look. Heat rose on Damian’s face and he instantly returned to his drawing of the pavilion. Wait… why had he automatically grabbed a pink coloured pencil when the pavilion was made out of blue tiles and white pillars?! Stupid, stupid Damian!

(The pink and green pencils were all notably shorter than the rest of the pencils in the set. One could imagine why.)

Anya then sat down next to him. Damian self-consciously shifted his sketchbook away from her gaze. “Don’t copy me! I’ll take you to court!”

Taking her to court… huh, Damian was now reminded of how his father divorced his first wife. Demetrius had mentioned something about Father taking his mom to court. Wait, why did Damian keep on thinking about marriage and divorce? This was a terrible day for his brain.

Anya huffed. “Fine! I’m going to take a closer look at the pavilion.” She put down her notepad and pencil and walked towards the stone bridge. Damian glanced at her dumb stubby legs, then returned to his sketch- ugh, he’d picked up the pink pencil again!!

Now that Anya was in his vision, Damian was finding it awfully hard to focus on the pavilion. Her bright pink hair was simply so distracting! He gritted his teeth, looked up, and then it happened in slow motion.

Anya was falling. 

Before Damian could even cry out, Anya had landed in the pond with a SPLASH! Damian stood up, his sketchbook and pencils clattering to the ground. Thankfully, the pond was very shallow as it barely went past her knees. Anya stumbled to her feet, her hair and clothes wet, then sat back down again. 

“Heh,” Anya said stupidly. “I can’t walk.”

Damian hurried on the bridge and extended a hand towards Anya. Fear was coursing through his veins. “What do you MEAN you can’t walk?!”

“My leg hurts… maybe I broke it like how Bondman did two weeks ago on TV.” Anya then took Damian’s hand. Her hand was so tiny, cold, and slippery… Damian banished away those useless thoughts. He hauled her up onto the bridge, and now Damian could see that Anya’s Eden uniform was completely drenched. She took off her wet socks. Her right ankle was red and swollen. Damian sighed. Of course she’d broken her ankle. Anya suddenly shivered, and Damian had déjà vu to that rainstorm when they held hands. When she was so cold, scared, and helpless… Damian’s fists were trembling. Dammit! Dammit! This girl always knew how to tug on his heartstrings! And he was the second son of the Desmonds, so he had to help her!

Damian had to think quickly. Of course, the most logical action would be to find a teacher and bring them back to Anya (because unlike somebody, Damian actually knew the way). But then, Anya would have to sit there and wait for him to find someone and return, and because she was wet, she would probably get a cold. And Damian did not want her to get sick! No! For some reason, he couldn’t bear it!

So naturally, he had to bring Anya back to the school.

And just as naturally, because she couldn’t walk, he had to carry her.

(Ugh, what is this? I bet this is the kind of crappy scenes that happen in those romantic dramas the girls like so much. Like a princess carry or something. This is so dumb. As a Desmond, this is embarrassing. Yet I’m doing it. ONLY BECAUSE I HAVE NO OTHER CHOICE!)

Anya was wringing her clothes to dry them the best she could. As a gentleman, Damian averted his eyes. Once she was done, Damian cleared his throat. He could not look at her in the eye. “Umm… you can get on my back.”

“Oooh, so you can be cool too!”

“S-shut up!”

Damian could feel Anya’s weight on his back. Since she was so small and runty, he could probably carry her without issue… right? Her wet clothes were sticking to his backside which felt mildly unpleasant.

“… Sorry for being a bother, Sy-on,” Anya mumbled. Damian flushed. 

“You better be grateful, commoner! I don’t do this for anyone! But you’re also not special to me so d-don’t get the wrong idea!”

Damian passed by their abandoned sketchbooks. Ah, since he was carrying Anya, he would come back for them later. Anya then quietly wrapped her arms around his torso to hold herself into place, and Damian’s heart fluttered against his ribcage. This felt like an embrace… except he didn’t want to get hugged! Because it made his stomach feel all twisted up and weird!

Damian made his way back as quickly and as steadily as he could. He was barely halfway through when his body was already complaining. Damian willed his stupid legs to move forward even if they felt like jelly. Ugh! Did soccer practice do nothing?! Come on, you’re a Desmond! 

To make it more embarrassing, it wasn’t like he was carrying a giant like Bill Watkins. This was Anya Forger, objectively the smallest and lightest girl in his class, and also objectively the cutest (he had no idea where that just came from and but he wasn’t going to fight it). Out of literally everybody, she should be the easiest one to handle. So for him, a member of the esteemed Desmond family, to struggle… There was no sugarcoating it. It was just bad. And mortifying. He couldn’t even claim Anya was fat or anything because for all of their lives, he’d called her a runt. Also, Damian thought he was doing a pretty good job of ignoring how he was holding those stubby legs he’d always teased her for having. (Although he had a vague sentiment that her feelings doctor father might murder him.)

Anya sneezed from above (no fair, even her sneezes sounded cute) and Damian quickened his pace despite his muscles protesting. “Hey, I know you’re tired,” Anya called out. “You can take a break if you want. Anya’s not gonna die.”

“But,” huff, “we’ll have to,” huff, “get you back,” huff, “as soon as possible so you won’t! Get! SICK!” 

“But there’s no need to force yourself,” Anya said and that only ignited Damian’s blood. Huh??? Was she looking down on him? Did she think he, a Desmond man of honor, was incapable? Hell no! Damian would prove it to her that he didn’t need breaks! He was a strong and independent boy! Willpower was all he needed! 

Still, the road back to school stretched on endlessly. The silence was slightly awkward, but Damian was too exhausted to even speak. He could barely remember why he volunteered to do this foolish thing in the first place, but now that he’d started it, he sure as hell was going to finish it. Damian wasn’t the type to give up halfway! 

“Y’know,” Anya began after a considerable amount of silence only broken by Damian’s huffing and puffing, “you don’t have to be mean all the time, Damian.”

Damian’s mind was spinning. Firstly, she’d actually used his name. Secondly, what did she mean by that? He could barely spare the effort to part his lips, but somehow Anya seemed to know what he was thinking.

“Like, you’re a good person. (Unlike your dad.) You’re a good boy like Bondman and Pa and my dog Bond.” Wait, did she just compare me to her dog?? “So you don’t have to yell and tease me all the time.”

Damian paused. He’d always teased Anya because… well, because her presence made his heart all itchy and weird, and yelling at her stopped the itch a little bit. Just a little bit. But that itch never went away so… why did he even bother?

Maybe Damian could think more clearly if it wasn’t for the girl on his back. He sort of understood what Anya meant, but at the same time he didn’t. Damian’s tongue was getting parched and he desperately craved some water. Fortunately, the buildings of Eden Academy finally loomed up in front of him. Motivated, Damian walked a little faster. 

Anya’s head was lolling on his back. Strands of her hair tickled his neck and Damian honestly thought he would’ve gotten used to it on their long journey back. But no, each little move of hers still made his heart jump and dance around. The effect she had on him was completely and incredibly stupid. Her mouth was right next to his ear and Damian’s face, already red from exertion, grew hotter. 

“Thank you, Damian!”

If Damian had a little less self-restraint, he would’ve melted on the ground right there. But because he was cool and mature and a Desmond, he just replied, 

“Now we’re even, okay?”

Anya, for some reason, had always gone out of her way to help him even if she was clearly incapable. Her actions baffled Damian, but he did feel guilty for being in her “debt”. So now he’d returned the favour and there was nothing else between them.

“If you say so! But y’know, Anya will always look out for you (because of Operation Strix).”

… Even though Anya’s clothes were cold and wet, her presence was still so undoubtedly warm. And when she wrapped her arms tighter around him, that warmth only grew. 

Chapter Text

Today was the day Anya would save the world!

She’d finally gotten herself a dog, which meant she could impress Sy-on boy, progress with Plan B, her dad could meet up with his dad, and then the world could be saved! Anya grinned to herself, satisfied. When she mentioned the dog to Becky, Becky was interested, which meant her plan worked! The dog was indeed a valuable asset to the Friendship Scheme. With fierce determination, Anya ran out of the door to chase after her target. Damian was walking past with Ewen and Emile when she dramatically burst out of the room. A baffled Damian stared at Anya, not knowing what to do.

“... What?” Damian eventually spat out, a single drop of sweat trickling down his forehead. “You want something?”

Anya’s eyes glinted. Aha! This would be the moment she would save the world! This was the moment that would be recorded down in history books for centuries to come! This was the moment Sy-on boy’s own kids would study in their classes! Her lips curled up to form that familiar smirk. 

“Guess what I got? A dog.”

Damian froze for a second, and Anya was already triumphant. Ahh, he was soooo shocked by her awesomeness that he needed a moment to recover-

“Yeah? So what?” 

?!??!!??!?!?!

Anya’s jaw comically dropped in horror and she flopped on the ground like a dead fish. The world… is doomed, she moaned to herself in utter despair. Above her, Ewen and Emile started cackling.

“Laying a commoner low with just three words… utterly savage!” Emile cried out gleefully.

“Huh? What?” Damian sounded genuinely confused. Anya read his mind. “Was what I said that mean?”

Ewen chimed in with, “Impressive even for you, Boss-man.”

Anya was still weeping on the floor in front of them. Damian was quiet as his friends jeered at her. Ahh, was all of her efforts in vain? She’d struggled so hard to get her dog and it turned out to not be useful at all! Just as all hope was lost-

“Name?” Damian’s voice cut through Anya’s cloud of gloom like a ray of sunlight. Anya glanced up, surprised. Damian’s cheeks were dusted with pink and he staunchly avoided looking at her. “The dog’s, I mean.”

The surprise sunk in after a second, then Anya’s eyes shone with happiness and hope. So Damian was interested in her dog after all! Plan B could work and she could save the day! Damian looked especially flustered after seeing her smile. Anya hurriedly stood up and brushed dust off her uniform to make herself look more professional. She had to look smart and mature in front of Sy-on boy!

“His name…” Anya began, uncertain.

“That is what I asked you, yes.” 

Huh. Damian was being strangely polite for his standards, and Anya wasn’t going to waste the chance! She needed to think of the best and most awesome name so he would like it! Anya’s heart thumped as she desperately searched her brain for an answer, but all she remembered were peanuts and silenced pistols. And Anya had a vague feeling that they weren’t good dog names.

Wait, she could just read his mind! Anya hunted through Damian’s mind but it was suspiciously devoid of thought (Damian’s mind always did that whenever she looked at him). Ewen and Emile were sniggering and Anya didn’t want to read their thoughts. She returned to good ole Sy-on boy again who was getting more fidgety with every second. Hmph, Damian was so weird. Damian’s brain was always empty. Damian’s father was an evil boss man. Damian-

“Damian.”

Damian, Ewen, Emile, and even Anya herself paused as the name sank in. Anya started sweating profusely. 

Ewen stared at her, incredulous. “You named your dog after our Boss-man?!”

If Damian was flustered before, his face was now positively flaming. “HUH?? Why did you do that?!” He screamed at her.

Anya blinked. To be honest, she had no idea why his name slipped out of her lips. She usually called him Sy-on boy, not Damian. But if she retracted her mistake, she would look stupid, and she didn’t want to look stupid in front of Damian. Anya attempted to think of a response (read: a lie).

“Uhh… because it’s cool! And it’s an awesome name! And it’s because you’re important (to world peace)!” Anya tried to play it cool by laughing. “Heh heh. Damian is… my dog.”

Damian’s mind was simultaneously very loud and quiet. Loud in the sense all of his thoughts were screaming and hollering at each other, and quiet in the sense that Damian’s mind was such a mess, she had no idea what he was thinking. Emile and Ewen looked at their Boss-man, confused.

“Huh? What?? THAT STUBBY LEGS STALKER!! She named her dog after me? THIS IS SOOOO STUPID!”

Anya jolted in alarm. Had Plan B failed? Was it all for nothing?

“But she said I’m important to her… duh! Because I’m the second son of the Desmonds so I’m ALWAYS important!! BUT I’M THE NAME OF HER DOG BECAUSE SHE THINKS IT’S COOL?? She thinks I’m cool? Wait, I don’t even CARE what she thinks! But I do care! UGHHHH!”

Before Anya could decipher Damian’s self-contradictory thoughts, Damian literally scampered away, his face as red as a ripe tomato. “Umm Boss, why are we running?!” Ewen cried after him.

“NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS!” Damian gave an uncharacteristically high screech as his heart pounded madly. A soft thought of his drifted into her mind. “That kinda makes me happy though…”

Anya instantly brightened. She’d somehow made Sy-on boy happy! Now he would like her and they would be friends! 

So Operation Dog was a success even if it wasn’t in the way she expected. Yay?

Of course Anya did not name her precious dog after that stupid jerk Sy-on boy. Anya named Bond after Bondman because he was her sweet and courageous hero! Damian had nothing on Bond’s sheer amazingness. She soon forgot about her encounter with Damian and spent many blissful hours playing with Bond.

One afternoon, Yor and Loid both had business to attend to so Franky took Anya and Bond to the park. Franky was busy trying to chat up some lady so Anya occupied herself by playing fetch with Bond. She tossed a ball and watched as it rolled across the green grass. “Go get it, Bond!” she whooped.

Laughter caught Anya’s attention. She spun, and to her surprise she saw her Eden classmates, specifically the ones from Damian’s dorm. She read their minds and realized their dorm tutor was taking them out for ice cream at the park. Franky had also noticed the kids and was now on high alert. Anya knew they were both thinking the same thing: if only Twilight was here!

Damian noticed Anya. Knowing she had to make a good impression, Anya waved. Damian scowled and was about to turn away, but then he caught sight of Bond next to Anya. Seizing the opportunity, Anya smirked at Damian and patted her giant but cute dog. This would certainly grab his attention!

Whatever Anya did seemed to work because Damian walked away from his peers and awkwardly approached Anya. Franky was watching the pair with eager eyes. Bond, a little nervous, shuffled closer to Anya.

Anya smiled brightly at Damian. “Sy-on boy! I thought you were gonna get ice cream with the others.”

Damian huffed. “I don’t care for the commoner’s ice cream- wait, how did you even know we’re getting ice cream?”

Anya’s heart thumped. “Uh, I saw everyone else!” To distract Damian, Anya beamed at him again (her smile always managed to distract him). 

“Sooo,” Anya ruffled Bond’s fluffy white fur, “this is the dog I told you about! He’s super strong and cuddly and awesome!” She shot Damian a smug look, but he didn’t seem impressed.

“Hmm, I guess this is a big dog…” Damian thought. “No dog can beat my own Max, of course. Max is the best dog.”

Instantly, Anya started panicking. She had to prove to him that her dog was cool so he would invite her to his house! She grabbed the ball and threw it as far as she could. “STARLIGHT ANYA SPECIAL STRIKE!! Fetch, Bond!” With an excited “worf!”, Bond scampered off. Anya turned to Damian with a self-satisfied grin, expecting him to be amazed. However, Damian was focusing on something else.

“I-I thought…” Damian’s face was red. “I thought you named your dog… after me.”

Anya gasped. Oh no! She’d forgotten about that! Now she remembered Damian was happy that she’d named her dog after him. “Bond is just… his nickname! Because it has less… less sounds!”

“Syllables, you mean.”

Anya had no idea what a cymbal was but nodded frantically. “Yeah!! Bond is shorter than Damian so it's his nickname!”

Damian still seemed embarrassed, but at least he was happy? She supposed? His inner thoughts were a mess again and Anya found it entertaining to read his mind.

“Okay, what sort of nickname is “Bond” for a dog called “Damian”?? Seriously, that runt has weird taste in names. (Except she used my name, showing she at least has good taste in something.) But wait! Bond! As in… the bond between us? BUT WE’RE NOT EVEN FRIENDS!! But she- does she treasure our (non-existent) bond?? Why else would she nickname her dog Bond, huh???”

… Oops. Now Anya could never tell him about Bondman because Damian mistakenly thought she’d named her dog to honor their friendship (but were they even friends?). Seriously, Damian’s mind was better at coming up with ideas for Plan B than she was. Damian was still frozen when Bond bounded back and returned the ball. 

“Good boy!” Anya cheerfully declared and patted Bond’s head. Then she remembered Damian thought Bond’s name was Damian, and to reinforce that lie, Anya continued, “You’re such a good boy, Damian! The bestest and cutest boy in the world! My Damian is sooo strong and cool!”

Bond stared at Anya, completely flabbergasted (for a dog). Just bear with me, okay? Anya tried to convey to Bond.

Meanwhile, upon hearing Anya’s words, Damian was reduced to a stuttering, blushing mess. “I know she’s talking about the damn dog but the way she worded it was so…! I wanna be cool and strong! I-I wanna be a good boy… the bestest boy…”

Bond looked at Damian and instantly growled. Surprised by Bond’s hostility, Anya ran her fingers through his fur. “B-Damian! Why don’t you like Sy-on boy?”

“HEY!” Damian cried out in part-embarrassment, part-anger. “Why are you calling the dog Damian but not me?! My name’s Damian too!”

“Dammit! She values that dumb dog over me! How dare she?! I’m a Desmond!”

“Calm down, Bond,” Anya soothed. “Sy-on boy is a friend! (At least I hope we’re friends.) And um, I named you after him! Ha ha!”

Bond was still uneasy, but out of love for his owner, Bond reluctantly decided to give Damian a try. Bond approached Damian and Damian cautiously stretched out a hand to pet him. The moment they made contact, Bond barked and jerked away from Damian. 

“Wh-what! Did I do something wrong?”

“Bond!” Anya scolded, and stroked Bond’s spine to calm him down. “Uh, I mean, Damian, don’t be so mean to Damian!”

Anya read Bond’s mind and she learned he had a vision just then. Was it something bad about Damian…? In Bond’s fuzzy vision, a grown-up Becky with pretty long hair was holding the hands of a pink-haired lady in a white dress… wait, was that Anya’s grown up self? Grown-up Becky was telling grown-up Anya “you have to live happily with him!”. There were a lot of pink petals and everybody was smiling. Anya scrunched up her nose and dug deeper in the vision. Next to grown-up Anya was somebody in a suit holding a bouquet… and then the vision was abruptly cut short. Anya glared at Bond. “Heh???”

“Why did you just space out?” Damian asked Anya stupidly as if he hadn’t been spacing out too. 

Anya smiled. “No reason!” She was still confused about Bond’s vision because it seemed like everybody had their happy ending. Why wouldn’t Bond like Damian? 

Bond started growling at Damian and Damian took a few steps back. “Uhh, calm down! Good boy! You’re a good boy, right?” His voice rapidly rose in pitch, indicating his nervousness. 

Anya pointed at Bond. “Damian, be a good boy for Damian!!” She declared, and Damian’s heart pounded madly. “Maybe having a dog named after me isn’t a bad idea after all!”

Bond didn’t seem very happy but ultimately settled down. When Damian tried to pet his head again, Bond’s tail just wagged. Anya was very pleased. “Heh, my two Damians are getting along! My dog and the Sy-on boy!”

“STOP MAKING IT SOUND LIKE I’M YOUR DOG!!”

“But… you don’t like it that I named my dog after you?” Anya’s eyes were wide and innocent, and Damian’s soul dissolved into a thousand butterflies.

“Y-you’re so stupid!! Forger, you dummy!! You can’t say stuff like that!” Damian had no idea what words he was spitting out because his brain had completely melted. “Ugh! I h-have to go back anyway!” And without saying bye, a red-faced Damian escaped, leaving behind Anya and Bond. The dog and the girl stared at a retreating Damian, both of them mildly confused by that boy’s weird behaviour.  

“Sorry, Bond,” Anya said sheepishly. “I had to pretend for the sake of Pa’s mission!”

Bond gave a “worf!” then pressed his head into Anya’s hand. “Eh? Bond, what do you wanna tell me-?”

The vision he gave her was one of grown-up Anya smiling happily in a… kitchen? Except this wasn’t the Forgers’ kitchen, nor was it anywhere she recognized. Next to Anya was… with a gasp, she knew who it was. It was grown-up Sy-on boy! She could tell by his long eyelashes! Sy-on boy (or was it Sy-on man now?) was cutting vegetables, also with a smile on his face. Anya’s face lit up. So Operation Strix would succeed because she and Damian would be friends as adults! They would even cook together in an unknown kitchen! No wonder Bond suddenly viewed Damian in a friendly way! Aww, she and Damian would be nice kitchen-mates in the future! 

Anya grinned and ruffled Bond’s fur. “See, Bond, we’re gonna save the world!!” 

“Worf?”

From across the park, Damian glanced at Anya and Bond. The fluffy pink haired girl and the fluffy white dog… a warm breeze blew past them, Damian’s heart fluttered, and his gaze lingered a little longer than usual. 

Chapter Text

I do recall now, the smell of the rain

Fresh on the pavement, I ran off the plane

That July 9th, the beat of your heart

It jumps through your shirt

I can still feel your arms

Damian was ten, maybe eleven when Anya Forger was abruptly taken from his life.

They were out of the school campus and Damian couldn’t remember what they were supposed to be doing. He did remember it was raining heavily. Both of them had been terrified of the thunder when they were trapped in a rainstorm as kids (he’d held her hand, because of course he did). Now that they were older, they were less easily spooked by loud noises. Still, Anya’s fingers were tightly clenched around Damian’s wet Eden uniform. Damian was holding their single umbrella with both of his hands. The thin handle of the umbrella swayed unsteadily in the wind, almost as if it was about to snap. 

The sky was gloomy and rumbling with dark clouds. The rain loudly pattered on their umbrella and ran down their skin in ice-cold rivulets. Damian could sense his socks were getting wet (which was unpleasant), but his main focus was getting him and Anya to shelter. (But then again, Anya was always his main focus.) Behind him, Anya abruptly shuddered from the cold, and Damian’s heart panged. Logically, he knew Anya wasn’t a small harmless creature, but he still got a surge of protectiveness. An odd chill ran down his spine— whether from the weather or a strange sense of foreboding. 

“Hold on,” he found himself saying to her for no good reason, his voice strangely soft. 

“Okay,” Anya mumbled in reply. 

Their footsteps were slightly muffled in the rain. Damian adjusted his umbrella so he could shield Anya more (never minding that he would get wetter). A clap of thunder sounded and Anya jolted. Damian was about to spin and talk to her when-

“We need to run.” Anya’s voice was quiet and fearful, almost adult-like, and Damian didn’t like it.

“Eh?”

Without another word, Anya yanked on Damian’s arm and dragged him away. There was a frenzy to her movements and Damian realized Anya was on the verge of a breakdown. Her breath was coming out in quicker and quicker pants as they splashed through puddles. In her panic, Anya skidded and nearly fell down, but Damian instinctively grabbed her arm. At Damian’s touch, she appeared to calm down, if only slightly. Damian’s heart pounded. He’d never seen the carefree and joyful Anya so deeply terrified before and it was like a stab to his guilt. What, or who was she running away from?

Footsteps. Anya whimpered and instantly ducked behind Damian. Before either of them could move, they were surrounded by a group of adults in lab coats. All of them wore black masks with only slits for the eyes and they deeply unnerved Damian. He tried to shield Anya with his tiny body. He stood unwavering even as the rain poured down and seeped into his skin. 

“007, it’s time to go back to the laboratory,” one of the tall, faceless adults said in a monotone. Anya physically recoiled behind Damian, her hands tightly grabbing onto him, and Damian’s heart rattled in his chest. What was going on? Who were these people and why were they targeting Anya?!

“I won’t let you take her, you freaks!” Damian screamed at them. “Don’t you know whose son I am?? I’m a Desmond!”

The scientists didn’t seem to care. If anything, they just laughed. They took steps forward, and Damian and Anya shrunk against the wall. Their lab coats were a ghastly shade of white, so cold and clinical. Damian waved his umbrella with all his might (which wasn’t very much for a child). “Go away!” he hollered, using his voice to cover up his fear and horror, but ah, the rain was so loud, wasn’t it? Who could hear him?

“Damian…” Anya whispered in his ear, her voice uncharacteristically solemn and quiet. It felt like Damian’s heart had stopped. This was the most serious he’d ever seen her in his entire life. 

“Tell my Pa and Ma I’ll always love them, okay? And I’m sorry I’m not useful to Pa.” Her voice wavered like she was about to burst into tears, and Damian felt like he was about to cry. 

No, no, no. Damian couldn’t believe it. What was she saying? Why was she giving up?

“Anya, I’ll-”

“Anya?” One of the scientists laughed and Damian violently shivered. He doubted it had anything to do with the rain. “What a cute little name you gave yourself. But playtime’s over now.”

“... You won’t take it.”

“Hmm?”

The rain was still pouring. Anya’s hand had slipped down to hold Damian’s, and he held her back with a fierce determination. This was their final act of defiance, their last stand. They were two kids, young and foolish but relentless, facing a world dominated by cruel adults. 

“My name is Anya Forger,” Anya stated almost angrily, so many unfamiliar layers to her tone that Damian couldn’t decipher. “And I’ll always be Anya Forger.”

Anya turned towards Damian, her green eyes bright but wet. He’d never see that desperation painted on her face and his soul was wailing at the tragedy of it all. He wanted to hug her and never let go. What was this? They really wouldn’t take Anya, his most treasured person, away, right?”

“Damian, find me at-”

Something thudded against Damian's skull and he collapsed like a twig in the wind. Before his vision was swallowed up by black, Damian desperately sought out his favourite shade of green, but it was getting fainter, further, diluted in the merciless rain… 

Anya, Anya, Anya, Damian uttered her name again and again in his mind like a prayer, but it was too late. 

Anya was gone. Damian was gone. He didn’t remember it, but he laid unconscious and quiet in the rainstorm for an hour before he was found. And quickly after that, Eden Academy was in an uproar. A student had been kidnapped, and Desmond’s second son was attacked? How blasphemous! How terrible!

Against the pavement, Damian’s body was still and cold. The umbrella fell from his limp hand. His regrets melted in the rain.

That was the last anyone saw of Anya Forger. 

When Damian came to, the first person he saw was his older brother Demetrius. And that was immensely baffling.

Damian’s skin felt hot and cold at the same time, and when he threw off his blanket, he instantly sneezed. Demetrius’ worried face peered at him and Damian’s mind struggled to catch up. Demetrius was in his final year at Eden, he should be studying hard for his exams, and Damian thought he had an important presentation, so why-

Demetrius tightly hugged Damian. And Damian melted. 

“Don’t do that ever again, alright?” Demetrius hissed, relieved yet angry. “You scared the life out of me!!”

Damian’s head was throbbing and even though he was safely in his brother’s arms, a great sense of unease was lurching in his stomach. “I-I thought you were busy…”

Demetrius stretched out a hand to pat Damian’s head, and in a flash, Damian remembered. In his panic, he shoved Demetrius away. 

“ANYA!” Damian screamed. He stumbled out of the bed and dashed towards the corridor. His vision was spinning and his legs were weak, but that didn’t stop him. Ignoring the cries from his brother and the nurses, Damian flung open the door. Ewen and Emile, who were sitting outside, gasped. “Boss-man!”

Damian too ignored them and desperately looked around. No sight of that familiar shade of pink. He could still feel the shadow of her hand in his. Then he saw Becky sniffing and sobbing, and Damian’s heart broke. No, no, this wasn’t as bad as he thought, right?

“Blackbell!”

In his hurry to get to her, Damian tripped and nearly collapsed on Becky. He must've looked like a complete wreck, but that was the last thing on his mind. He shook Becky’s shoulders roughly.

“Anya’s here, right? Tell me she’s here! Oi, Blackbell, stop- stop crying!” Even as he said (screamed) that, hot tears were rolling down his cheeks.

Becky’s cheeks were puffy and her eyes were all red. “Anya… she’s… none of us can find her…”

Damian’s heart dropped like a stone. He turned on his heel and continued to run. A cluster of adults were standing and discussing in hushed voices, and Damian paused.

Henderson. Eden’s Headmaster. A policeman. Several guards. And of course, Loid and Yor Forger, Anya’s parents. 

Yor looked positively murderous, and Damian couldn’t bear to look at her. Loid’s face was unusually pale and grief-stricken. Their expressions gave it all away- Anya was indeed kidnapped. Damian’s adrenaline left him and his legs gave way. “Pops, I…”

“Damian!”

Demetrius had caught up to him. Demetrius quickly scooped him up into a hug, but Damian didn’t care.

“Anya’s… not… gone… is she?” The words fell out of Damian’s mouth like whispers lost in the wind.

All of the adults, so tall and imposing, turned to look at Damian. Demetrius protectively wrapped his arms around his baby brother. 

What happened next was that they were all taken to a room for interrogation. Damian, as the only witness to Anya’s kidnapping, was everybody’s last hope. Damian hung onto Demetrius like he was his lifeline (maybe he actually was). A policeman with black hair and piercing red eyes (he looked like Anya’s mother- perhaps they were related?) stared at Damian. “So,” the policeman began in a matter-of-fact manner, but Damian could sense the panic and unease in his tone. Ah, it would make sense if he was Anya’s uncle, right?

“Damian, please tell us all that you remember in detail.”

Everybody was staring at him. His teachers, the Forgers, his brother, all of the policemen, everybody. Damian felt sick and anxiety bubbled in his chest in a way he knew all too well. He’d experienced panic attacks before, especially before exams, and somehow Anya was always the one who saw through him. It was her who found him cowering in the boys’ bathroom. It was her who offered him her handkerchief and dried his tears. And now it was her who was gone, gone, and gone. 

Damian couldn’t breathe. He actually couldn’t. Blood pulsed in his ears and overwhelmed his senses. Out of everybody he knew, his dorm mother and friends included, Anya was the only one who could calm him down. Thinking about her just made everything worse. Of course, as the local psychiatrist, Loid quickly approached him and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Deep breaths, Damian, deep breaths,” he reminded Damian in a soothing tone. “It’s alright. We got you.” 

Except it wasn’t alright after all, was it? Loid looked exhausted and anxious. Sure, Loid cared for Damian, but he was infinitely more worried about his daughter. It was the same for everybody else in the room. Anya was their top priority. And not only had Damian failed them by not protecting Anya, he was wasting everyone’s precious time because he was having a panic attack and he couldn’t speak-

“I’m here for you,” Demetrius mumbled to Damian. Damian blindly clutched his big brother. Demetrius rubbled circles on Damian’s back and he slowly felt like he could breathe again. “Everyone else might be thinking about your friend, but I’m thinking about you. Because you’re my brother. I’m here for you.”

It took a few minutes for Damian to calm down. Considering the tense atmosphere in the room, they were all quite accommodating to him. Damian felt a tidal wave of guilt crash over him but he knew guilt wasn’t productive at all. He nervously sipped the hot tea Henderson had given him, then took a deep breath.

“We were out on the streets. I can’t tell you where exactly we were, but if you take me back, I think I can point it out.”

The adults instantly leapt to attention. Yor stared at a map of Berlint, her fist tightly clenched. Loid and the policeman started scribbling down notes.

“We were cornered by adults. I think there were around six or seven of them. They all dressed the same; in white lab coats and black masks. I can’t see any of their faces.”

“Any markings on the coats? A logo, or a word, perhaps?”

Damian faltered and hunted through his blurry memories. “I-I don’t remember,” he admitted.

Useless, Damian scolded himself. How come you’re always so useless?

“That’s alright. Please continue.”

“Not all of them spoke, but the ones that did had male voices. Two of them spoke, I think. Their voices were muffled by the rain and the masks. They called Anya “007” and said Anya was a name she made for herself.”

At that, the adults paused. The policeman, Loid, and Yor all exchanged looks. 

“A-and…” Damian gulped. “Umm, Pops and Auntie Yor, Anya told me to tell you that she’ll always love you guys. And that she’s sorry she’s not useful to you, Pops.”

At that, Loid let out a strangled sort of gasp. Yor hugged him for comfort. Damian’s throat felt dry even though all he had been doing was crying.

“... I think that’s all.”

“Thank you for your contribution, Damian.”

Damian slowly sat up. He was getting a terrible headache from being stuck in the rain and crying so much. “You’ll find her, right?”

Damian’s voice sounded small, broken, helpless. After all, he was just a child whose friend had been kidnapped right in front of him. 

“Oh, definitely.” Loid Forger had never looked more determined in his life. Yor growled. “I’ll make them all pay for touching my precious Anya.”

Upon seeing them, hope dared to flutter in Damian’s chest. Adults were capable, weren’t they? Especially the police force and the Eden staff. They would find Anya. They had to find Anya.

Except they didn’t. 

And Anya Forger was declared a missing case for seven years.

Damian was seventeen when Demetrius decided Damian needed a break and sent him to the countryside for the summer. 

“You need to relax,” Demetrius insisted. “You’ve already burnt yourself out with studying. You can’t survive like this.”

Damian couldn’t protest. In the years following Anya’s disappearance, his panic attacks had just gotten worse to the point that during his last term, he completely froze up at the history exam and barely wrote anything for the entire three hours. Thinking about “peace” and “war” considering the Desmonds’ history just made Damian feel sick to his stomach. He was very fortunate that Henderson, as his homeroom who’d known him for a decade, understood his struggles and allowed for a resit. Once that was done, Demetrius instantly whisked Damian away for his “mental well-being”. 

So that was how Damian was spending his holidays in a small rural town with his butler Jeeves and a few other servants for company. Demetrius, as always, was busy in the city. (And Damian had long stopped thinking about his parents.) It was as far away from Berlint as possible, and even though it was fairly close to the border with Westalis, it was surprisingly peaceful and serene. 

The fresh air and warm sunlight did relax Damian. This small, cozy town was a place of rejuvenation and new beginnings. It was a beautiful area in which Damian felt like he could temporarily leave all of his worries behind. One afternoon, Damian set off to find a café to read his favourite comic books in. 

As Damian walked along the streets, his attention was caught by a painting in front of a café. It was a gorgeous piece with rich colours and Damian was instinctively drawn to it. It depicted a chimera soaring through the sky at twilight, shades of blue and purple and orange blending together in the background. Red roses grew from the ground and stretched invitingly towards the chimera. The chimera was reaching for stars twinkling in the sky. There was a childlike, fantastical atmosphere to the painting. Damian was captivated. 

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

The owner of the café was smiling in front of Damian. She was a middle-aged woman with short blonde hair and kind eyes. The name tag on her apron read “Carol”. “My daughter painted this,” Carol continued.

Damian smiled back. It always warmed his heart to see parents be proud of their children’s achievements. “Well, please tell your daughter she’s an amazing artist.” 

Damian decided to walk inside the café. It was pretty quiet, so Damian prepared himself for a nice, comfortable afternoon. “Stella!” Carol called towards the kitchen. “We have a customer!”

Damian sat down and took out his comics. They were the latest edition of Spy Wars - Rewind. Ahh, Anya would be thrilled to know they were doing a new series featuring Bondman’s years before he became a spy. Once upon a time, he’d shared his volumes of Spy Wars with her and they had enthusiastically discussed their favourite arcs. But of course, Anya Forger was just a memory from his past.

(A memory that he couldn’t protect.)

Damian could hear footsteps. This must be the owner’s daughter. Damian fixed his eyes on the menu, unsure of what to order.

“Hello. Welcome to our café.”

The voice floated in the air for a bit, then Damian jolted. Wait, wait, he recognized this voice. He looked up in a panic. The name dropped out of his lips. “Anya?”

The girl, “Stella”, stared back at him. She no longer had her signature black horn coverings, but her pink hair was still the same shade he knew and loved. Her two pink buns were still in the same position, and her eyes- oh God, her eyes. They were more subdued than he remembered, lacking her usual spark of life, but it was her. It was undeniably her. She’d grown up, her face had matured, and maybe he briefly wondered if she was a clone or something. But he could feel it. 

This was the Anya Forger he knew and loved. 

In a trance, Damian stood up. The forgotten menu clattered to the ground. He took a shaky step towards the girl like she was a ghost. “Anya? Anya, is that you? I’m.. Damian.”

Anya was frozen like him. “Who are you talking about?”

And then Damian’s heart was shattered into a million pieces. No, no, no. This had to be Anya. And she surely- she surely couldn’t have forgotten-

“Anya Forger… that’s the name you used, right? That’s the name you chose.”

Anya made no move to approach him, but she didn’t back away either. Suspicious moisture glistened in her eyes. Her lips parted, but nothing came out.

It was then another customer, sitting next to Damian, cleared her throat. “Carol, this boy’s bothering your daughter!” Both Damian and Anya (or was it really her?) ignored the customer.

“I don’t know you… I don’t remember anything…” Anya’s voice was nothing more than a whisper, yet her gaze never left Damian, like she was hunting in her mind for a connection.

Tears welled up in Damian’s eyes. “We were friends in Eden! You used to live in Berlint, remember? With your Pa and Ma! Loid Forger, the feelings doctor! Your mom, Yor Forger, works in the city hall! And your uncle, Yuri Briar, he’s a policeman! And your Pa’s friend, the Franky guy that you called “Scruffy”! They still love and miss you. W-we’ve never stopped searching for you all these years…”

Damian’s frozen fingers fumbled for his bag. He hastily took out a missing poster that he’d safely kept for all these years. A smiling ten-year-old Anya Forger and her parents stared back at him. Damian thrust the yellowed poster into Anya’s hands. 

“What’s going on?” A new voice joined in the conversation. Carol had appeared. “Stella, what…” Then she saw Anya and Damian staring at each other, completely transfixed by the other. “Oh my goodness, do you know her from before? I-I picked Stella up three years ago, back then she had no memory of who she was and what had happened before…”

Damian felt faint. Three years? So Anya was with those horrible scientists for four years? And they’d wiped her memory to the point she couldn’t remember her own name, which was something she apparently treasured the most?

“Anya, please remember,” Damian pleaded, his voice thick with emotion. Anya stared at the poster, then back at Damian. Her eyes were still blank, but he could sense something brimming inside of them. “You’ve got a dog too! You named him Bond after Bondman, he’s big and fluffy and white! And yeah, that’s right!” Damian hurriedly grabbed his comic books. “Bondman! You loved Spy Wars! We used to watch them together!”

After all these years, Damian could still recall facts about Anya easily, so easily. “You love peanuts! And silenced pistols! You hated math at school- and remember Henderson? Our homeroom at Cecil? We always say his moustache looks stupid. A-and Becky! Your best friend! She still- heck, we all still think about you! She buys a cake every time your birthday comes around! Remember that sheep keychain you guys bought when you were kids? She still hangs it on her bag! Becky Blackbell! She’s your best friend!!”

Damian couldn’t help it. He was crying, both from the relief of finding Anya again and the grief of her forgetting everything. His head was bent and tears stained his pants. What was this? How had he accidentally stumbled upon her when her parents spent their whole lives searching for their daughter? (He heard they even employed spies.) Meanwhile, Anya was focused on the missing poster Damian had given her.

“My name’s Stella, but it’s also not,” Anya whispered. “I chose it for myself. B-because I like stars.”

Damian’s heart crumpled up like a piece of paper. His legs were shaking and it felt like they were about to give way. “Stella… like the Stellar Stars back in Eden, right? We need eight of them to become an Imperial Scholar. It was your greatest dream back then… and you also wanted to visit my house for some reason…” Damian hastily wiped the tears from his eyes. “But back then, they… those bad guys… they said you chose the name Anya.”

There was a moment of silence. Anya’s hands were shaking. Scared of accidentally ripping the poster, she gently set it down on a table. She raised a trembling hand, and gestured to herself.

“Anya Forger…?”

A lump had formed in Damian’s throat. He nodded, slowly and carefully. 

Beautiful, shining tears formed in those lovable green eyes of hers, her face as adorable and as devastating as it was all those years ago. She took a single step towards Damian and her finger caught a tear rolling down Damian’s cheek. That single touch made Damian want to die, yet it breathed life into him at the same time. 

“... Sy-on boy?”

Your name, forever the name on my lips…

Chapter Text

Damian is a picky eater. Even though he knows the food from Eden Academy’s cafeteria is supposed to be good, it’s lacking… something. The steak is either too salty, or the potatoes are too creamy, or the vegetables are too soggy for his taste. So Damian’s logical reaction is to eat at his dorm because his favourite food is from his dorm mother’s. She’s had a special spot for him ever since his first day when she patched his cheek up after Anya Forger’s famous punch, and it only continued when Damian was the only boy who didn’t go home for Christmas and had her all to himself. Her food is the best in the world, Damian decides. Her pasta is never too cheesy, her seasoning is just right, and her cookies bring him pure joy.

(What Damian doesn’t know is that he’s just desperate for any food made with love and care, but that’s another thing he discovers as he grows up.)

But Ewen and Emile and literally everyone else eat at the cafeteria, so what happens is that his dorm mom will make Damian a nice packed lunch and bring it to him during lunchtime. That way, Damian can sit with his friends while having the food he loves. It’s the best option, really.

Damian says he wants to eat at the cafeteria because he can chat more with his friends. While that’s true, there’s another factor that he swears no one will ever know about.

Anya Forger.

That pink-haired, stubby-legged shrimp with two devil horns and the most aggravating smile he’s ever seen. Damian and his friends don’t sit with Becky and Anya (duh!) but they sit close enough to see them. And so Damian sees. He sees what Anya is doing— h-hey! It’s not like he’s a creepy stalker or anything! She just happens to be in his vision and he just happens to have eyes, okay?!

So Anya Forger likes omurice. Some sort of weird egg-layer-wrapped-around-rice thing. Oh, and there’s ketchup. Ketchup! The sheer blasphemy of that commoner condiment! And she likes it to the point she orders it every day and rarely eats anything else. (Of course Damian isn’t keeping track of her specifically, he just happens to remember because he’s a smart and observant boy!) 

Huh. Dumb commoners and their dumb commoner food. Damian scoffs and pretends not to care. (He does.) 

But really, the stupidest thing is that Anya honestly, sincerely loves omurice. Her eyes shine when she takes a bite and she literally eats it every day. Damian idly wishes he’s half as expressive as she is, then feels appalled by being jealous of her. Her, who’d punched his face and blithely smiles at him and asks to visit his house out of the blue.

And Damian remembers her talking about omurice in class. She’d said “demi—” and Damian nearly had a heart attack thinking she was finally going to say his name. Except Anya was talking about “demi-glace sauce” for her omurice and Damian still feels a seething hatred for that damn sauce that he knows nothing about. 

Anyways, that dumbass looks too happy eating something that Damian is 90% sure isn’t that tasty. And Damian spends way too much time thinking about Anya Forger’s happiness. And he definitely spends too much time hoping to see a hint of her smile when she eats.

(Because that’s the only reason he tolerates her!! She has a cute smile! There’s nothing else good about her!)

And because omurice is apparently the only thing Anya eats (other than peanuts), naturally Damian will never have omurice. Because she’s a weirdo and her tastes are probably weird (except for her taste in guys, because he definitely catches her staring at him). And omurice reminds him of Anya so that’ll just completely ruin his meal. Blergh.

Stupid fluffy hair. Stupid shimmering eyes. Stupid, stupid Anya.

Today, Anya’s eating omurice as usual, but Blackbell, who’s next to her, looks dejected. Damian hears it’s because of what happened in last night’s episode of Berlint In Love. He thinks the girls’ dorm has a whole watchparty or something. Of course Damian doesn’t care about trivial entertainment like soap operas, but he knows that show devastated three-quarters of his female classmates. They all looked like ghosts when they came to school that morning. Anya is worse (or better?) than them because she only watches cartoons (doesn’t she know the Spy Wars comics are more updated and therefore she should read the comics with him?!), so she’s as baffled (if not more) than the boys. 

So Becky’s moaning about her favourite couple breaking up and Anya is quite definitely not interested. However, she’s a good friend, so she sympathetically pats Becky’s shoulder and even offers Becky her own dessert. (Damian has to admit Anya is a sweet girl when she’s not creeping him out. He sorta wishes somewhere was there for him when he got 72% on a test and spent the entire break crying in the boys’ bathroom.)

Ewen and Emile are talking about god-knows-what and Damian absentmindedly shoves his pasta in his mouth. He loves his friends but he’s not interested in their conversation right now. 

And then Damian finds something that bothers him.

There is a grain of rice on Anya’s cheek. And she is completely oblivious to it.

Damian groans and almost laughs. Pfft, that klutz. What did he expect? She’s a commoner with no table manners, plus she always makes a mess despite her best intentions. Damian waits for Anya to eventually discover her embarrassing mistake and take that grain off before people notice and start laughing.

Except she doesn’t.

Anya really doesn’t.

At first, Damian thinks it’s on purpose. Maybe she’s making herself look funny to cheer up Becky (Because Anya sure is entertaining Damian). Becky is even more concerned about looks than Damian is and she’ll definitely wipe that grain off with a dainty handkerchief. Except Becky is still too busy moaning about her TV show to even look at Anya. 

Anya continues to eat. She parts her lips and takes a bite. There’s some ketchup smeared on her lips and she licks them (Damian feels a sudden hotness on the back of his neck. Why does this feel illegal to watch?), but her tongue barely misses that grain of rice which is still stuck on her face. It’s that dastardly grain that has wholly captured Damian’s attention. He glares at that offending white dot. 

Just get it off, Anya, Damian mumbles in his mind. Get it off!

But it’s not like Anya can read minds, so she continues to be unaware of it. Damian hopes Becky will stop rambling about her show, even just for one second, to correct Anya’s mistake, but Anya seems to be encouraging Becky to talk more. And that stupid grain is still on her cheek and it’s stubbornly clinging onto her skin. Damian sighs and grits his teeth.

… Why does this tiny thing, this imperfection on her face bother him so much?

Damian’s so annoyed he might as well walk up and swipe that damned grain off. Which is what he does when lunch break is over and it’s miraculously still on her face.

“Forger!” Damian calls out, completely irritated. Anya has ruined his mood by distracting him during lunch, yet his stomach feels jittery in a way that’s almost pleasant. Anya’s walking with Becky and Becky has moved on from talking about Berlint In Love to… Mr. Forger, aka. Anya’s dad. Damian’s baffled, but he doesn’t dwell on it. 

Anya turns, her gaze innocent. “What do you want, Sy-on boy?”

Damian huffs at the nickname. He doesn’t even bother to correct her at this stage because he knows she won’t listen. Damian takes a step forward and raises his hand to her face. Anya’s still looking at him and Damian suddenly falters. His entire body feels flaming hot and his heart’s pounding against his ribcage. 

Then before Damian can regret it, he swipes off that grain of rice. And because he’s too jittery and nervous, he accidentally overdoes it and the tip of his finger swipes past Anya’s soft lips. 

… Damian’s first instinct is to wash his hands a thousand times, yet a part of his heart is singing at the unintended contact. He screams for that part to SHUT UP because this is Anya and it’s embarrassing and—

“You had a grain of rice on your face,” Damian informs her in what he hopes is a calm tone. (He is anything but calm now.) “You’re too stupid to remove it and it was getting on my nerves, so I did it for you.”

Anya pauses, then smiles at Damian. He swears he’s going to melt into a puddle.

“Thanks, Sy-on boy!”

Anya is smiling, and it’s a genuine smile this time. The corners of her lips are quirked up— the same lips he’d just accidentally touched. Soft, pink lips, and that white grain of rice against her round squishy cheeks, and—

Damian thinks he’s going insane. His heart feels like a spring garden in full bloom, complete with saccharine floral perfume and bees idly buzzing past. He actually feels dizzy. The blush on his cheeks overpowers every other sense of his.

He stares at his hand, the same one that had just touched Anya, and starts to scream internally.

Ugh. Fine.

Damian supposes he’ll finally try that stupid omurice just out of curiosity. Because Anya likes it so much. And it fascinates him. 

(She fascinates him.)

Ewen and Emile thankfully don’t make much of it or else Damian will punch them. Damian stares at the dish in front of him. He has to admit the shape of the omurice is perfect and the egg isn’t wonky or broken. The line of red ketchup on the yellow egg serves as a nice contrast as well. 

He’s definitely overthinking this.

Resolutely, Damian digs his fork into the omurice. He’s about to put some of it in his mouth when he suddenly catches a glimpse of Anya Forger happily eating her own omurice (thankfully without another grain of rice on her face). Damian falters because they’re eating the same thing. The hand that’s holding his fork is the one who’d touched her cheek, and that memory feels imprinted on his skin. They’re both eating omurice and why, oh why does the flimsiest of connections make his heart a complete wreck?

Damian shoves the food in his mouth and starts munching. It’s not… bad. The sweet and savoury tastes mix together quite well, the texture of the chicken chunks is pretty good, the taste of the tomatoes aren’t overwhelming, so on and so forth. Damian almost hates himself for somewhat liking the omurice.

It’s only because Anya likes it so much, Damian desperately thinks. She always looks so happy eating it and it’s rubbing on me. 

(... Why does he end up liking the things Anya likes?)

Damian thinks about the rice grain on Anya’s cheek and how his finger lightly touched her lips, and he munches faster and faster—

Damian’s face grows as red as the ketchup on his plate. There’s a bit of sauce on his lip so he absentmindedly wipes it off (just like what he did to Anya.) Because of the intensity of his chewing, his saliva starts breaking down the starches into sugar. Damian lets the pleasant taste roll around his tongue for a while. He looks up and Anya is smiling again, because of course she is.

It tastes sweet…

Chapter Text

“It’s done.”

The two of them stand under the veranda of a building, rain pattering on the roof. It’s not loud enough to cover up their voices. Anya is breathing heavily, dazed by what just happened. Damian thinks he might hold her arm to keep her steady, but just as he is about to reach out, she moves away. He doesn’t ignore the paleness in her cheeks and the vacancy in her usually bright eyes. He knows how to read her expressions because they’ve known each other for twelve years now. Anya is probably overwhelmed because her mission, her identity as Anya Forger, is finally nearing its end after a winding journey that spans her entire childhood and adolescence. She’s bound to be shaken by that. He doesn’t reach for her, but he turns to her so she knows she can lean on him if she wants to.

“We did it, Anya,” Damian whisperers in what he hopes is a comforting voice. “Plan B. Operation Strix. You went to my house. Your dad made contact with my dad and they’re talking. It-it’s world peace, Anya.”

Anya doesn’t look at Damian. She’s silent. “Twelve years in the making. I was five when I was adopted, and now I’m seventeen. We did it.”

… She sounds hollow even if she (no, they) just achieved their longtime goal. Or maybe it’s because they achieved their goal and now they don’t have anything left. 

“... I guess we’re gonna break up now, huh?” Anya’s voice sounds oddly stilted. 

Damian doesn’t know how to comfort her, so he chooses to answer her question. “That was what we agreed on. That… that was what you said to me.”

“Yeah.” Anya chuckles, but it comes out as more of a sob. “Yeah. I was the one who said that.”

Now Damian wishes he can read minds like she does, but before his brain can formulate a response, it's Anya who moves. “Thanks for everything, Damian.” Her voice is heavy, clouded with melancholy. “Thanks for being understanding. Thanks for not freaking out when I told you I’m a year younger and I can read minds. Thanks for… helping out with Plan B and allowing me to fake-date you so we can get in your house. Thank you. Really.”

She isn’t even looking at him. She then steps out in the rain, letting it drench her hair and uniform. Damian surges forward and holds onto her arm. His heart is drumming in his chest. Something’s wrong with his friend and he has a vague idea what’s going on, but he has no idea how to unravel her jittery bundle of nerves and trauma.

“Hey, you don’t have an umbrella. I’ll walk with you.”

(Anya’s schoolbag is filled to the brim with spy gadgets and she didn’t have additional space for an umbrella. So Damian carried one for the two of them.)

Anya doesn’t shrug Damian off, but she doesn’t go back either. He tries to pull her under the shelter, but she doesn’t budge. “It’s alright. You don’t have to pretend anymore, Damian.”

(Once upon a time, Damian hated her “Sy-on boy” nickname. Once upon a time, when she used his real name, it felt like flowers were blossoming from his heart. Now none of that happens. Now she doesn’t call him “Sy-on boy” and in all honesty, he misses it.)

“Pretend…?” Then he remembers their fake relationship. The staged kisses, the staged dates, the awkward hand holding, their carefully practiced waltz. Damian furrows his eyebrows. “Okay, we just broke up, but we’re still friends! I care about you, Anya. I meant it when I said I’ll walk you back. Just come back in from the rain.”

There’s a pause. He hears that she’s crying. His heart breaks. Throwing all caution to the wind, he steps out of the safety from the shelter and pulls her into a hug, shielding the rain with his body. She melts in his arms for one brief, shining moment, and then she pushes him away. 

“Sorry,” Anya sniffs. “I know you mean it as a friend and I don’t mean to reject your kindness, it’s just… it’s just I’m…”

She stares up at him, green eyes wet and dejected. There’s something awfully familiar mirrored back to him and Damian feels a twinge of dread in his heart, like a wrongly tuned key on a piano. Has he done something to hurt her? Damian recalls Anya: Anya laughing as she spins in her turquoise dress, Anya giving him that stupid smirk when he gells his hair, Anya blushing when he kisses her cheek… Anya had been happy when they were together. He’d done his best for her because he knows dating is scary for someone like her who has abandonment issues. She was happy. What went wrong—

Oh.

And then he realizes.

Oh.

His heart sinks into the bottomless sea and he knows. And she now knows he knows. 

It was because she’d been happy when they pretended to date. Too happy, in fact.

Damian feels stunned by her sudden not-confession, like he’s just been slammed into a windwall. His foolish teenage self might’ve arrogantly believed he could make any girl fall for him, but his older self thought Anya was untouchable. She was too witty, yet too pure for romance. Too smart to fall for him, a bumbling idiot.  

“I guess you picked that up at the very end.” Anya manages to laugh. “I didn’t want it to bother you. But now… I suppose it doesn’t matter.”

“Why won’t it matter?!” The words tear from his lips before he can stop them, alarm evident in his tone. He’s never seen Anya look so… miserable. 

“Because it all ended. Our relationship, whatever we had. I can’t stay here anymore once the job’s done. Your dad will go to jail. I’ll have to drop out of school and see where Handler places my parents— no, Agent Twilight and the Thorn Princess.”

“O-oy!” It’s not like Anya to be so pessimistic. “We’ll still be friends even if you move away! Don’t act like you’ll— you’ll just vanish from my life like that—“

“Please don’t say it like that.” Anya’s voice is nothing more than a whisper. 

“Like what?!”

“Like you have feelings for me!”

And now the cat’s truly out of the bag. They’re still standing outside, the rain mingling with the tears trickling down Anya’s face, and Damian feels awful. He instinctively reaches out a hand to brush them away but Anya beats him to it. Her icy fingers clench around his wrist. “Please, for my sake, don’t blurry the lines,” she whispers. “You don’t like me anymore. Not like that.”

It isn’t a question. Damian’s heart shatters, but not in a way it would’ve done just a few years ago. The way he doesn’t feel more pain just makes it worse.

“I know I’m being selfish here, refusing and running away from you, but… I have to do it, okay? I have to prepare myself. I’ve known for ten years that this isn’t permanent. Mission this, mission that. It all has to end.”

“Wha—” Now Damian’s flabbergasted. “Your parents love you more than anything else in the world! They’re not gonna leave you!”

“I know!” Anya screams, but it’s a weak scream. “I love them too. I’m forever grateful to have them. But we won’t be the same. We won’t be living in our old house and Pa won’t be a psychiatrist and Ma won’t be a worker in the city hall and I won’t be a student at Eden Academy. We’ll be on the run. I don’t think we can even use the Forger name anymore. A-and I’ll have to say goodbye to everyone from school. Henderson, Becky, and…” She lifts her hands to cover her eyes so she won’t be able to look at him. “You.” 

Damian feels lightheaded and he’s not the one who’s most hurt. “We’ll visit you. Or you’ll visit us. Friendships like that don’t just go away, Anya, whether you like it or not!” He bites his lip and continues earnestly, “I know you’re scared of being abandoned, but we all remember you! I know we’ll all find a way to meet each other again! Maybe this is selfish of me too, to make promises like that, but it’s not like you’ll be gone! You’ll always be with us! Becky will always make tea the way you do with three spoonfuls of sugar! Ewen will always look in the mirror and think he’s a narwhal because of what you said! And Emile will punch his bullies the way you taught him to!”

It doesn’t look like he’ll be able to drag her under the shelter, so he takes out his umbrella and holds it over her. Anya sniffs. “You can be a real jerk sometimes but you really are too nice. You know how every spy has a weakness?” She smiles up at him, wobbly and heartbreaking but nonetheless a genuine smile. “You’re mine.”

Damian’s throat feels dry even with the wetness running down his face. “I know you’re scared and hurt by your past, but we won’t abandon you. So please… don’t run away,” he pleads. 

Anya’s eyes are red-rimmed. “I guess I thought the best thing was to remove myself but that’ll hurt you guys and that’s the last thing I want. I’m sorry, Damian. I guess I am an idiot after all.”

“Don’t say that!”

Anya wipes the tears from her eyes and straightens her spine. She manages to look at Damian in the eye. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll get over you like how you got over me.”

… And Damian remembers. How his heart used to go crazy around her, from when he was a child to when he was in his mid-teens. Anya, beautiful, sweet Anya occupied his thoughts. He desperately wanted to impress her but he always seemed to fail. It took him far too long to admit to himself that he liked her. It took him even longer to get over her. 

The worst part was that he wasn’t even trying to get over her, even with their difference in social status. Yes, Anya was a commoner, but at that time, his feelings of adoration triumphed over everything. But then they grew up, the universe meticulously shifted, and without being conscious of it, his feelings had morphed from romantic to platonic. And she didn’t do anything. If anything, because they became closer, he should have fallen for her more. But one day when she hugged him, ecstatic over her history test or something, Damian found that his heart didn’t beat as fast anymore. He didn’t blush, nor was there that overwhelming sweetness pouring out from him. 

And that was when he knew. 

The smile that had once made his stomach flutter hadn’t changed, but she didn’t have that effect on him anymore. 

Nothing about her had changed. Anya was still smart, pretty, and oh so lovably dumb. But somehow, somehow, she’d gone from the love of Damian’s life to just a friend he deeply cherished. And losing that spark he felt for her was almost as bad as being rejected. 

And he hadn’t even had the courage to confess when he still had feelings for her.

(It was for the better. He didn’t want to lead her on when his feelings would just fade.)

They say you don’t just get over someone that easily. They say that means you either never stopped loving them, or that you never loved them in the first place. 

(Damian doesn’t want to think about that.)

And now Anya genuinely likes him. Somewhere along the way, muddled in their pretenses and chaste kisses and dances, she’d grown to like him. She must’ve developed those feelings because when they started (fake) dating, she told him it would be platonic (he’d gotten over her by that point). She told him they would split when Plan B was done. That it was all for show. 

… Anya must’ve thought she was doing it for his benefit (after all, she can read minds). To set the boundaries so he won’t accidentally fall for her again and break his heart. 

Except she ends up breaking her own heart. And Damian feels so helpless and foolish because damn, you really can’t control what the heart wants. What can he say when a girl he used to adore likes him back— just several years too late? 

“... I’m so sorry, Anya,” Damian murmurs, his tone sincere. “I… the timing’s all wrong.”

“We barely missed each other,” Anya whispers. She stares at her own feet. “How did we end up like this?”

The umbrella drops to the ground. Damian wraps his arms around Anya tightly and doesn’t let go. 

“Hey.”

She cries into his shoulder, fingers tugging at his uniform like he’s the only tangible thing in the world. Damian smells her floral shampoo and thinks about how she's going to move away and now he’s crying too. He knows what Anya is feeling, he sympathizes with her deeply (abandonment issues, unrequited love), and yet he’s the one unintentionally hurting her. 

We liked each other. Just not at the same time. 

He wonders if she’s reading his mind. He wonders if she’s read his mind the whole time, knowing he somehow got over her while she falls deeper and deeper. 

And so, the two teens, heartbroken in the same but different ways, hold onto each other, mourning the pseudo-romance they shared, mourning what could’ve been. 

Chapter Text

1.

Anya squeezes her eyes shut and braces herself for the impact. It never comes. When she opens her eyes, it’s Damian who’s guarding her, Damian who’s holding back the ball with all of his might. Judging from his shaking legs, he’s suffering a lot. For her sake. 

And then the universe subtly shifts. 

In Anya’s eyes, Damian is shielding her from the great horrors of Bill’s killer strike. The wind is violently whipping his hair and while Anya can’t see his expression, she’s sure he must be in pain. The side of Damian is shocking, but nice. It reminds Anya of her Pa, of Bondman from her shows. Her jaw drops and the words leave her mouth before she can stop them.

“So cool!”

Then Anya is embarrassed by how easily she’s given into that jerk, but those two words seem to be all that Damian needs. He grits his teeth and powers through, and with one final desperate scream, his fingers hold onto the ball. He doesn’t drop it.

There’s a pause. Bill is completely flabbergasted. Henderson is probably screaming “how elegant!” in his mind. Ewen and Emile are stunned but impressed.

“Bossman, you actually caught the ball!”

“Wow, all of the training paid off!”

Anya’s still on the ground, her eyes shimmering as she gazes at Damian. Damian, who’d just risked his MVP and potential Star to protect her. Damian, whose legs are still trembling from the force of the throw. Damian, whose palms are definitely scratched from the impact.

“You protected Anya? Are you nice after all?”

Damian huffs. He shifts the ball to one hand so he can inspect the damage it did (his skin is all red and aggravated, and it’s bound to hurt). “Shut up! I just got tired of him picking on us, that’s all!”

But Anya knows. Anya knows Damian tried a little harder when she complimented him. 

“Ouch, my hands hurt… but at least that idiot seems fine.”

Anya shakily stands up, her eyes still focusing on Damian. She’s beginning to see him in a whole new light. “Thanks for saving Anya, Sy-on boy!”

Damian’s face is as red as his hands. “Whatever! Let’s get on with the match!”

The Cecil Hall students are cheering from the sidelines. “Let’s go!” “We got this!” “Woohoo! It’s Damian and Anya against Bill!”

At that, Anya’s reminded of a line from her cartoons. In that cartoon, the male lead and the female lead join hands, sharing the same determined smile as they proclaim, “It’s us against the world!” Anya takes a step closer to Damian while Damian glares at Bill.

“We’re not going down without a fight!” Damian declares, sweat trickling down his face.

(Anya notices he used “we”, not “I”. She stores this information carefully in her head.)

Bill’s surprised that Damian actually caught the ball, but he remains unflappable. “As long as I can see their moves, I can perfectly predict where the ball’s gonna land!”

And I can predict YOUR moves, scary guy! Anya thinks. That’s when she realizes she can read Bill’s mind and pass on that information to Damian. Next to Anya, Damian prepares to throw. Anya takes a step closer and brings her lips near his ear. Damian’s so flustered, he nearly drops the ball. 

“Listen, I have a plan…”

Damian’s face steadily gets redder the longer he’s in close proximity with Anya. Usually, he would snap at Anya, but he’s seen how good Anya is at dodging. So he dutifully listens even as his heart thumps rapidly. When she’s done, the two turn to face Bill with matching looks of determination.

Anya smirks. “You’re going down, heh heh.”

Damian raises the ball, reinvigorated after Anya’s advice. “You’ll never see this coming, Watkins.”

… Bill feels a sudden chill down his spine. Who knew the pink shortie and the Desmond kid can make such a formidable pair?

Anya’s words echoing in his mind, Damian throws. The ball tears through the air, and then—

2.

Damian fails. The ball barrels straight into his chest and Damian grunts in pain, but he doesn’t move from his position in front of Anya. The force causes him to topple backwards and he crashes into Anya. Anya winces when his back hits her arms. Damian rolls on the ground, panting and trembling.

Henderson raises an arm. “Two hit!”

“... Actually, it’s just one.”

Damian’s arms loosen and the ball thuds on the ground. 

“The ball never hit her, it just hit me, so she’s still in the game…” Damian weakly cries out. He tries to stand up, but his legs wobble and he collapses again.

“BOSSMAN!” Emile and Ewen cry out in unison.

Anya manages to stand up and walk over to Damian. She offers him a hand which he stubbornly refuses. Damian’s face is a brilliant red and he’s staring at anywhere except for Anya.

“Dammit! It’s all up to you now!” Damian snarls.

And then Anya stares at him, with his scratched palms, red knees, and the fading bruise on his cheek from her punch which is now covered with a layer of dust. Damian’s hair is all messed up and there’s suspicious moisture in his eyes. Ah, judging from how he cried when he punched her, he must have a low pain tolerance. That fall was horrible and he’s definitely in pain. Anya stares at him for a while, judging him, then solemnly pats his shoulder (she knows he’s not hurt there so it won’t be painful).

“Anya will avenge you, Sy-on boy!”

“Hey! I’m not dead yet!”

Anya’s quiet. She takes the ball and thinks about how hard Damian tried to catch it. She wants to channel his strength and his determination. She stretches out a fist and Damian automatically flinches.

“IS SHE GONNA PUNCH ME AGAIN? Does she think I’m incapable because I got taken out?”

“Lend me your power, Sy-on boy,” Anya says very seriously.

“E-eh?”

(Meanwhile, Bill’s just staring at the two, not knowing what he unintentionally caused. Becky feels the miraculous tension in the air and lets out a delicate gasp. Ewen and Emile have no idea what’s going on, but they can’t tear their eyes away.)

Anya lightly bumps her fist against Damian’s and his entire body turns red. He huffs and quickly stands up. “Ugh! That was SO WEIRD! You better win for us, stubby legs!”

“Okay, can you guys stop being cutesy and continue with the match?” someone from the other class calls out, impatient. Damian freezes and instantly retaliates.

“WHAT THE HELL? We’re not being cutesy!”

3.

“Anya, watch out!”

At Becky’s warning, Anya turns. Her foot slips and then she’s falling, and falling—

Someone holds onto her arm. Anya stares up at Damian, surprised, but he seems just as surprised as she is. His eyes trail down to where his fingers are clenched around her arm and he instantly flushes. “I… I just…”

“Now’s your chance, Bill!”

Damian and Anya barely have time to react before the ball barrels towards them. Anya squeezes her eyes shut, but then Damian yanks her away, a protective arm in front of her. The ball misses them by a whisker and Anya is acutely aware of how close she is to Damian, how much taller she is, how she can almost feel his heartbeat through his uniform—

“Close! She’s too close to me!” Damian thinks, a furious blush on his cheeks. “She’s so small and cute— WAIT I can’t be distracted!! Ugh!!”

“OH MY GOSH!” Becky screams from outside the court. “Damian, get your hands off Anya right this instant! You’re behaving inappropriately!”

Damian instantly jerks away like he’s been stung by a wasp. “Shut up! SHUT UP! You’re all such a bother—“

The ball comes flying again and Damian’s body moves on its own. He grabs Anya’s wrist and pulls her to safety again. He instantly lets go of her like she burns his skin. Anya stares up at him, her heart thumping. 

Who knew Damian could be protective? Who knew Damian actually cared about her?

4.

Damian’s too late. The ball smacks into Anya’s forehead and knocks her back a good few paces. Both Becky and Damian cry out. Damian’s frozen on the ground for a few seconds, then he remembers he and Anya are the only two left. He’s the only one who can check on her. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll lead the class to victory— but I’m worried about HER!”

Anya’s sniffling, tears forming in the corner of her eyes, and Damian feels personally attacked. There’s a big red mark on her face and Damian winces. He knows it hurts. (Maybe as much as her punch from orientation.) All of these confusing emotions are a whirlwind inside Damian so he resorts to his default emotion— anger.

“You klutz! This is what you get for falling down!”

Anya blinks, her eyes teary. “Waaa! You really are mean! I hate you!” Damian takes a step back, a mixture of shame and fury and concern brewing in his stomach. He can’t take this anymore, not when Anya fell and got hit and she’s screaming she hates him, like she can’t stand him and she wants him gone—

“One hit,” Henderson announces, his voice bringing everyone back to reality. Anya obediently shuffles away from the court, looking upset that she was eliminated. Damian sees the bruise on her face, the scratches on her knees, and his blood roars.

“THAT GUY HURT STUBBY LEGS!! ARGH!! And why am I so angry?”

Next to Becky, Anya lifts her chin, surprised by the sudden loudness of Sy-on boy’s thoughts. She knows Damian values this match highly, but following her elimination, he’s more determined than ever. He’s a live wire, operating on emotion and impulse, throwing and dodging with all he has. 

“He was picking on our class! On my friends! On Ewen and Emile! A-and… he was picking on Anya!!”

Wait, so Sy-on boy does care after all? Anya watches Damian’s every move, her eyes wide. He’s out there, all alone, struggling against an entire team and the fearsome Bill. Yet, Damian’s not given up. His arms are shaking, his legs are tired, but he’s fighting till his last breath.

That dedication, the courage to continue when everyone has fallen… 

That’s almost admirable.

Damian’s wheezing when he holds onto the ball. He glares at Bill, not minding if he looks like a madman. “And this… this…”

“THIS IS FOR ANYA!”

The ball slams into Bill with astounding force, but Bill catches it all the same. Still, everyone’s stunned by the force Damian generated. It’s clearly his most powerful shot yet, but it barely has an effect on Bill.

Anya’s gaping at Damian, something trembling in her clear green eyes.

“He made that shot… for me? Is he gonna… avenge me?”

Despite the circumstances, Anya can’t help but smile. And upon seeing her smile, Damian flushes, but a bit of his energy is restored. 

It’s okay. Even if Damian’s all by himself, he’ll keep on fighting.

(He’ll keep on fighting for her.)

5.

They’re both knocked out by the same shot. They’re sent to the nurse, her with bruises on her knees and him with flaking bits of skin on his hands. 

The nurse notices that Demetrius’ younger brother is more hurt than that Forger girl. Judging from their conversation, it appears that he took most of the damage from a very violent game of dodgeball. The nurse sighs. Honestly, Eden Academy should be more strict about the rules. Literal children are being sent to the nurse because of a simple ball game.

Damian winces when the nurse bandages his hands, but he sees Anya next to him and attempts to put on a brave face. It’s cute.

“Thanks for saving me, Sy-on.” Anya beams up at Damian and he feels like he’s going to melt. Anya carefully takes his bandaged hands and runs a thumb over them, and Damian’s soul leaves his body.

“What are you doing?!” Damian protests. He snatches his hand away, cheeks ablaze. “You’re making it hurt, dummy!”

Anya looks upset. “Sorry! Anya just wants to make you feel better!” She scrunches up her nose like she’s in deep thought. “Ooh! My Ma says kisses makes the pain fly away—”

When the nurse returns, Damian, for some reason, has fainted. Yet instead of being pale, his cheeks are oddly pink.

6.

“Come on, Anya! Hit Bill like how you hit me! MAKE HIM PAY!”

“Waaa, Sy-on boy, you’re violent!”

“I would hit him myself but you’re the only one alive!”

Anya’s hands are shaking, but she holds onto the ball. Everyone’s depending on her! The future of the world rests on her shoulders! She can’t give up!

“Anya… will do her best!”

“YEAH! DESTROY BILL WATKINS! Go, go!”

Becky gives Damian a side glance full of suspicion. “Since when are you supportive of Anya?!”

7.

Bill approaches Anya after the match, looking strangely nervous for someone who just won.

“You can’t throw a ball, but you’re scarily good at dodging,” Bill admits. He bows his head at a baffled Anya. “So, Ma’am Forger, can you please teach me your godly ways?! Please, I want to be as nimble as you are!!”

(Damian notices. He frowns.)

“Erm.” Anya’s not sure how to reply because her so-called “agility” is only because she can read minds. “I’m not fast. I can just, uh… predict people’s moves.”

Bill is almost shaking, but there is deep respect in his eyes. “Predictions!” Bill wails, and goes into monologue mode. “All my life, I’ve trained my body and I have to be the best for my dear Daddy, but I lack the natural intellect needed to “predict” moves! All those strategies from books, all of those formulas— all of them pale in comparison to you, Ma’am Forger!”

Anya is feeling immensely pleased with the praise and smirks at Bill. “Heh, heh.” Then she hears footsteps. Damian is standing oddly close to her, anger simmering from him for some reason. 

“Are you bothering Forger?” Damian asks Bill directly. Bill gives Damian a hard stare, then replies.

“Of course not. But I’ve heard about you, Damian, and I know you two bicker all the time. Maybe you’re the one bothering Forger.”

The tension between Bill and Damian is as clear as day. Anya looks between them like it’s a ping-pong match and gulps nervously. Becky, however, recognises the cues from her shows.

“Oh my goodness, is a love triangle developing?!”

8.

Anya’s unconscious in Damian’s arms as Henderson rushes over. The ball from Bill had knocked her out and it’s fortunate that Damian caught her before she could hit the ground. Damian is understandably in a state of panic. 

“Oy, dumbass, wake up!!”

Anya doesn’t move. There’s a big bump on her forehead, red and swollen, and Damian’s heart breaks at how fragile she looks in his arms. He turns to Bill.

“WHAT THE HELL? You could’ve killed her or something!”

Now even Bill looks mildly panicked. “I never intended for her to be seriously hurt!”

Damian’s beyond pissed, and everyone can see it well. Half of the students are intimidated and glance away, but the other half are cackling and metaphorically rubbing their hands together, thinking of how to capitalise on this situation.

“Weird that he’s so concerned when the same girl punched him in orientation.”

“Aww, he’s protective!”

“Do you think Damian likes Anya? OOOOH!!”

Damian almost reflectively drops Anya when he hears the teasing, but he has enough common sense. Yet when Anya’s eyes start to flutter, every brain cell of his instantly stops working.

“Ahh, Anya’s not dead yet…” Anya mumbles, clearly still woozy from the hit. She attempts to stand up but falls again, her head resting on Damian’s shoulder like puzzle pieces falling into place. Damian’s so flustered that he nearly falls as well.

“Dammit! Don’t fall asleep on me! I’ll drop you, you hear me?! I’ll let you fall and you’ll break your bones and—“

(In the end, it’s Damian and Becky who accompany Anya to the school infirmary, a permanent blush on Damian’s cheeks.)

9.

“You know, Damian—”

(Anya says, swinging her legs on a park bench on a warm summer afternoon.)

“There was a time when I didn’t want to go for Plan B of Operation Strix. I thought you were a huge jerk and was determined to go with Plan A despite my grades. I didn’t want to be friends with you even if it’ll help Pa’s mission.”

“Oh?” Damian tilts his head. There’s a bit of melted ice cream on his girlfriend’s cheek, and he wipes it off with a handkerchief. “What made you change your mind?”

“When you saved me in that dodgeball match in first grade. I thought it was super cool even if you were mean.”

Damian blushes even if it’s been ten years since that incident. “My body just… moved on its own. I didn’t… I couldn’t bear to see you hurt.”

Anya’s green eyes are bright. “And that’s why I only chose to go for Plan B after the match! You proved yourself. Heh heh, Anya has standards, yanno.”

“W-well,” Damian stutters, “I guess I have to thank my six-year-old self for all of…” he gestures at himself and Anya, “this. For changing the trajectory of my dating life, I guess.”

“Honestly? You’re not a bad person. I think… I would’ve wanted to become friends with you anyway. Eventually. ‘Cause you defended me so many times, heh.”

“Oh.” Damian’s heart feels full. “You defended me too. Over the years.”

“I had a reason to defend you— it benefited the mission. You had no reason to defend me, but you did anyway.”

When Anya leans in to kiss Damian, he tastes the sweet strawberry ice cream lingering on her lips. She’s giggling, and he can’t help but smile too. 

“And that’s why I like you.”

Chapter Text

It’s time for Eden’s school festival that’s held every spring. The bright sun shines through balloons which casts lovely shades of pink and purple on the ground. Multicoloured banners flap cheerfully in the wind, injecting life into the historical buildings. Bouquets of carefully selected spring flowers line the stalls and their sweet scent dizzies passerbys. Curious children drag their parents along, their noses guided by the tantalizing aroma of freshly baked fruit tarts and delicate pastries. The normally quiet and calm campus is filled with crowds of excited visitors. The festival is one of the rare times when the school is open to the public. After all, Eden Academy loves showing off, whether it’s their facilities, teachers, or students. 

Each class at Eden is responsible for a stall or for a performance. Damian and Anya’s class happens to be in charge of a drama. As the class representative and the male lead, Damian’s under great pressure to get it perfectly done. It doesn’t help that they have masses of expectant people and it’s giving them stage fright. The sky is a clear cornflower blue and normally Damian would’ve enjoyed the nice weather, but the sun’s warmth is making him sweat profusely in his prince costume.

“Dammit, Connor, you can’t vomit when it's five minutes before showtime!” Damian gripes at a poor boy huddled in a corner. “And you! Blackbell! I promise your hair looks fine, so go and fix Alice Paulette’s hair please?”

Becky sighs, tears her eyes away from her reflection in the mirror, and marches over to Alice. Despite wearing a dress, Alice’s legs are spread apart due to the heat. “Pfft, some kind of bossy class prince you are, Damian,” Alice snarks. 

“He’s insufferable,” Becky chimes in with a haughty sniff.

“Don’t be mean! Sy-on boy’s just super stressed. And I mean super.”

Anya Forger is sitting demurely on a stool and swinging her legs. She’s wearing a turquoise dress that shimmers like the sea when she moves. One might be surprised by how still she is, but she just doesn’t want to contribute to Damian’s worries. As a mind reader, Anya knows Damian has been stressing over their performance for months. This show will be a testament to how well he can lead his class. As a perfectionist, Damian doesn’t allow for the slightest mistake. Although he tries to be patient with his classmates, he has immensely strict standards for himself. Damian looks completely exhausted even with the layer of makeup on him. 

“I kinda wanna talk to him but I think he’ll combust if I do that now.” Anya’s eyes follow Damian’s figure as he hurries around and makes sure everything is in place.

A girl approaches Damian. Her long brown hair falls down her back in elegant waves and there’s concern in her ocean blue eyes. She wears the most elaborate dress of them all, complete with a glittery gemstone necklace that’s made from real jewels. It’s made clear from the first glance- this girl is the female lead. 

If Damian Desmond is the class prince, then Giselle Gibson is the class princess. She’s graceful, smart, and always kind to her peers. She has a gentle demeanor that makes her classmates relax. Everyone can see she’s trying to do that to Damian right now. It works, but not much. Damian still looks like he’s about to tear his hair out in frustration and Anya’s heart pangs. She hates seeing her Sy-on boy under so much stress. 

Anya’s part of the ensemble cast so she doesn’t have much interaction with the male lead Damian. But still on stage, she tries to shoot him reassuring smiles. He’s either ignoring her or too busy to respond, but the show is going well. The leads are dramatically proclaiming their love for each other, and while Damian is a good actor, Anya can see the nervousness in his hazel eyes. The confession is the climax of their drama and it has to be done well.

“Go for it, Damian,” Anya whispers from the sidelines, cheering for him even if he can’t hear her. 

“Oh, my sweet prince, you mean everything to me…”

Giselle’s voice is sweet but clear.

Damian gulps and stares into Giselle’s eyes. The entire class watches with bated breath.

“And you, my dear… I will love you for all eternity,” Damian recites perfectly from the script, conveying the same amount of sincerity he channeled in rehearsals. 

The audience immediately whoops and claps, moved by their performance. Ewen and Emile also start cheering to support their Bossman. Anya faintly smiles, something tugging on her heartstrings. Yes, the act’s pretty good, but it’s still an act. Anya can tell when Damian’s acting, and she doesn’t need her powers for that.

So their show’s a massive success. Damian and Giselle join hands and bow again and again. The audience is clapping enthusiastically and some have even stood up. Anya watches as colour and relief flood Damian’s cheeks. It’s done. This is Damian’s proof of his leadership skills. If this was a test, Damian passed with flying colours.

Anya’s so happy for Damian. She really is. 

Flurries of congratulations fly across the backstage. Despite all of their anxiety, their show was immaculate and the performance of the two leads was outstanding. Damian’s already panicking about how he might’ve messed up some of his lines and Anya can’t take it anymore. She runs towards him, her sparkly eyeshadow still on her face, and grabs his arm.

“Sy-on boy,” she says seriously, staring straight into his eyes.

Damian’s flustered. “W-what?”

“You need to loosen up,” Anya declares. She flashes him a grin. “I’m taking you around the festival.”

And before Damian can protest, they’re off. Anya needs to find something to preoccupy his mind before he goes off spiraling again, and the festival provides so many opportunities. 

“Hey, we haven’t even changed out of our costumes-”

Anya laughs. “It’s fine! We don’t look out of place at all.”

And she’s right. They don’t. They’re the prince and his commoner princess running around, her hand tucked into his. There’s something about Anya’s presence that just brings happiness to Damian, and all of his worries melt away like ice cream in the summer sun. She’s smiling, he’s smiling, and now they can’t stop.

Then they’re on one of Eden’s green lawns, a flower crown on Anya’s head. Damian’s hastily grabbed two bouquets of flowers on the way and presents one of them to her, a blush on his cheeks. Even though Anya wasn’t chosen as the female lead, she’s still the female lead in his life. She always has been ever since he laid his eyes on her and she punched her way into his heart.

Anya takes Damian’s bouquet with a giant smile on her face. “Thanks, Sy-on boy!” Unexpectedly, she delicately extracts a pink blossom from her bouquet and leans forward. Damian’s heart is pounding. She tucks the flower behind his ear with a pleased smile, and she’s so close, too close, and it’s like he can’t breathe-

And then she laughs.

Pink hair gently swaying in the breeze, her eyes crinkled up in genuine joy, her lips making the most wonderful sound he’s ever heard. Pastel petals idly flutter in the wind. The sun illuminates her smiling face and Damian swears she’s glowing. She’s happy and comfortable with him and Damian can’t help but take it all in. He wants to sear this beautiful image of Anya in his memory forever. 

Damian’s heart is so full and warm and his affections can’t help but gush out. Damian had acted out a romance for the show earlier but nothing compares to what he’s experiencing now. His line “And you, my dear… I will love you for all eternity” sounded cheesy to him, but now he abruptly understands. Damian instinctively leans in, a pink haze on his cheeks. He wants more. His heart unfurls like a newly blossomed rose. It’s like he found a key to the universe. Everything is soft and lovely and beautiful and it’s all centered on her. 

Damian’s not that much of a fool. He knows he has a crush on Anya since forever but he’d always thought it was puppy love (never mind it’s been almost ten years). That it was something ephemeral and fleeting and something he would grow out of. Damian’s just a teen and he won’t understand what love is. All teenagers know are hormones and silly crushes and emotional roller coasters. 

But now?

Anya’s eyes flutter open. Damian’s breath hitches.

Oh.

And he can’t stop looking, he really can’t, because this is Anya and she’s smiling for him. And Damian’s completely enchanted by her, his eyes so fond and tender. It’s like nothing else matters except for her.

I love her, his consciousness whispers to himself, almost absent-mindedly. 

And Damian’s never been so sure of anything else in his entire life. His lips part, but no words come out. He’s been stunned into silence, his heart bursting with adoration.

I love her. I love Anya Forger.

And now he’s almost giddy with delight because the pieces are falling together. Maybe he’s stupid, maybe he’s young, but he loves her. It’s real. It’s sincere. He feels it deep within his soul. 

And he returns her smile, so soft yet bright at the same time, and they’re both laughing under the spring sun, beautiful flowers blooming from their hearts.

He loves her. And he thinks he’ll love her for all eternity. 

Chapter Text

Damian was a very nitpicky child but there was one thing he absolutely loathed. And that was the feeling of chalk on his hands. 

The crumbly white powder made his hands feel dry and itchy, and not to mention it got everywhere. Damian especially disliked it when it got under his fingernails. And his pristine black Eden uniform could easily be tainted. Damian didn’t fancy walking around with a white stain on his chest all day. Besides, the blackboard duster was always dirty and Damian didn’t want to touch it (What if there were mites? Or germs? Or other weird unhygienic dust?). Damian supposed he could wash it off, but the closest washroom was an entire corridor away, and he would certainly look very undignified with white chalk covering his hands.

Needless to say, Damian despised blackboard duty. Every student had to take turns to clean the blackboard, and when it was Damian’s turn, he would just bribe Ewen or Emile with sweets and favours. They happily obliged and the system worked out fine between the three of them. It was a mystery how his two friends could stand the chalk, but thinking about that white substance sent shivers down Damian’s spine so he would rather not dwell on it.

One day after math class, as all his other classmates rushed outside for their lunch break, Damian walked up to his professor, his test paper in hand. Damian briefly wondered if it was a good idea, but he went with it anyway.

“Um, sir, sorry to bother you but I actually got five marks on this question, not six.”

The professor peered at Damian’s paper and realized he was right. He circled the mistake with a red pen and amended his score. “You’re an honest one, Damian. Thanks for telling me.”

Damian just huffed. “I’m not gonna do things unfairly. Who do you think I am?”

The professor was long used to the antics of haughty rich children and barely batted an eye. The (probably underpaid despite Eden’s reputation) teacher left the room for a well-deserved coffee break. By now, every student was away from the classroom and enjoying their lunch. At least, all except two.

While Damian was talking to his professor, Anya Forger was attempting to clean the blackboard in an… undignified way. Everybody knew she was the shortest kid in class, so she was huffing and puffing as she repeatedly jumped up and down. Even with her arm stretched upright, she still couldn’t reach the tall spots.

“Huff… Anya… huff… must… huff… reach this!” Anya gasped out between jumps. Damian watched as some of the chalk from the atrocious duster actually fell on Anya’s head, the white powder standing out against her pink hair. Damian felt a sudden, inexplicable urge to sweep it off. He immediately chased those thoughts away because that was just plain weird.

Damian leaned against the teacher’s desk and sighed. “Forger, just give it up. You’re too much of a shrimp to do anything, really,” he sneered.

Anya didn’t turn to look at him. “Anya will do her best because Anya’s a good student!” she exclaimed. 

“It’s just blackboard duty. Nobody’s gonna care. And you’re so naturally short that you’ll never make up for it.”

Anya remained determined to clean the blackboard. Damian remained determined to… watch Anya clean the blackboard. Neither of them left for lunch. A peculiar atmosphere was brewing in the classroom. 

“Jerk,” Anya mumbled. She jumped again with no success.

“Pipsqueak.” Hm, Anya’s hair flopped every time she jumped. Damian idly noted it down.

“Bastard.”

“Idiot.”

“Some clown who’s even less cooler than that random Bondman sidekick who appeared for two episodes in Season 3.”

Damian knew Anya was getting tired now so he didn’t fling more insults at her. Anya finally stopped jumping and her cheeks were a pretty shade of pink. She stared up at the offending line of chalk that she hadn’t quite managed to reach. “Chalk, my nemesis!” Anya dramatically declared, and Damian raised an eyebrow. “Starlight Anya’s gonna defeat you some day!”

That was it. By the rate things were going, none of them would be able to get lunch. (Damian didn’t think about how Anya was the only one obliged to clean the blackboard and he could leave at any time.)

Damian sighed, strolled over, and (gasp!) dragged his hands out from his pockets. He took the duster, his fingers brushing past Anya’s, and he easily swiped past the chalk markings Anya had been struggling to reach for five minutes. His taller figure cast a shadow on Anya. Anya gaped up at him. 

Damian gave Anya that signature smirk they both knew so well.

“Heh.”

But Anya was staring at Damian, her eyes wide. “Sy-on boy… helped Anya?”

Damian snorted. “Only because you’re too much of a runt to be responsible.”

He could feel the annoying chalk cling onto his fingers and that incessant pounding of his heart. He genuinely couldn’t remember the last time he chose to touch chalk, not counting when he had to answer questions in front of the class. Damn, his chest felt strangely itchy and warm and he was definitely standing too close to Anya. Damian awkwardly placed down the duster with surprising gentleness (he didn’t want the dust to fly away, of course) and took a step back. Anya didn’t move. Damian stared at his chalk-covered hand and exhaled.

Ugh, I can feel my fingers getting dry. I really hate chalk; it’s the worst teaching medium. Why can’t they use markers or something? I don’t even normally do blackboard cleaning duties. This is totally because Anya’s a shortie. I can’t help but step in, urgh…

“Sy-on boy doesn’t clean the blackboard?”

“That’s none of your business.” Was she going to snitch to the teachers?

“But you cleaned it for me.”

Damian paused. Heat rapidly rose up in his cheeks and his stomach twisted in that awful, familiar way. For one wild moment, he thought of grabbing the duster and throwing it at Anya’s face, but the resulting powdery chaos was not something Damian would wish on his even worst enemy. 

“I-It’s because you’re short, okay?!” Damian stuttered out. “It doesn't mean anything!” And because Damian’s brain suddenly short-circuited when he saw Anya’s innocent, doe-like eyes, he defaulted to showing anger. “Ugh! You really piss me off!”

Anya continued to stare at him like she was dissecting his brain, and he began to feel a little unnerved. “I have some wet wipes in my bag,” Anya offered. “You can use that to clean your hands if you don’t wanna walk to the washroom.”

Damian physically jumped away. “Huh?? I don’t need your DUMB commoner wipes!” he almost bellowed at her. “Dammit! I’m gonna get lunch!”

And then a red-faced Damian escaped, the warmth gushing from his heart somehow overpowering the disgust he felt from the chalk.

Over the years, Damian waited for Anya to grow taller so she could actually do blackboard duty. Except she remained the shortest kid in their class and continued to be unable to reach the taller spots, and Damian couldn’t help but step in. It was just pathetic to watch a shrimp like her struggle.

(Whenever Anya was on duty and Damian had to answer questions, he always purposefully wrote them lower so Anya could actually reach them. He never said it, but he believed she noticed. Anya could be strangely observant at times.)

“You’re actually making more of a mess by jumping,” Damian once cooly informed her. “Like, all that extra movement is making the chalk fly off.”

It was once again Anya’s turn to clean the blackboard and Damian had once again taken the duster from her. Anya frowned up at him. “Sy-on, I know you have good intentions but I can do it myself.”

“You already do a good job of cleaning the blackboard on your level.”

“Don’t look down on me just because I’m a year younger, you meanie!”

Damian’s cheeks turned hot. “I’m not!! I’m just- just trying to help out!”

Anya gave an exaggerated huff (her bangs fluttered as she did so, cute) and marched away. She returned with a stool. “I can just stand on this, yanno.”

Damian sighed. “Anya, don’t-”

Anya stepped on the stool and shifted her weight on it. Almost immediately, the stool tilted and Anya nearly crashed on the ground. Damian, however, had anticipated this and had stepped over so his body would prevent her from falling. Anya’s tiny hands grabbed onto Damian (his heart thumped) and she used him for balance as she hastily stepped down.

“Yeah, that stool’s unstable,” Damian mumbled in a faux-nonchalant tone to cover up how flustered the contact with Anya made him. “I guess they don’t spend their funds on furniture, huh.”

There was an odd silence. Damian stubbornly glared at the blackboard as he continued to clean it.

“Anya? You didn’t actually fall, did you?”

He finally turned to look at her. Anya’s green eyes were wide and she was gazing at him. Damian bristled and he knew his face was turning red. “What?” he spat out.

“I think… I got chalk on your uniform.”

“Huh?”

Anya carefully took out a wet wipe and took a step towards Damian. She began to dab it at his clothes and Damian felt dizzy. “Oy, y-you-”

Anya let out a “hmph”. “Sy-on boy, are you gonna run away from Anya again? Like you always do?”

Oh crap, was she now bothered? Damian gulped, his cheeks feeling hotter and hotter the longer he stood there. “F-fine! Clean up after your mistakes! Or something!”

Then Damian was eighteen and Anya was seventeen, and they’d just finished their math midterm. They dragged their exhausted bodies to their study room and stared at the blackboard which was completely filled with formulas- formulas that they now didn’t need. Knowing Damian’s aversion to chalk, Anya reached for the duster. “Well, time to wipe this all off!” Anya declared cheerfully. “Math doesn’t need to exist anymore, hah!”

“Only for us to fill it up with diagrams,” Damian continued, referring to their next biology exam. 

Anya stood up on a small stool to reach the top of the blackboard. The height difference between her and Damian was one of the things that’d remained static over the years. When they were standing, Damian could easily rest his chin on Anya’s forehead. Now that she was on a stool, she was actually taller than him. Damian took a step closer to his girlfriend. 

“Sy-on boy, what are you doing-”

Damian lifted Anya’s hair, exposed the back of her neck, and lightly pressed a kiss against it. 

Anya squeaked and nearly fell off the stool. “Oy, you really surprised me there!” she laughed. 

Damian acted nonchalant, but secretly he was very pleased with the effect he had over Anya. Ahh, she was so adorable. Damian really was the luckiest man alive. “I couldn’t resist,” he quipped playfully. 

The tips of Anya’s ears were red. “I could’ve dropped the duster on you in my shock, yanno.”

Damian mock-gasped at the sheer horror of the idea. “You wouldn’t!”

“I’m the elite Agent Starlight! I know your weakness, Damian, and I’m not afraid to use it!!”

The door opened with a bang and they both jumped. “Ugh, you lovebirds are at it again.” Becky gave a dramatic but affectionate eyeroll. “Come on, we need to study for biology.”

Anya started scrubbing at the blackboard more furiously. “Sorry that this is taking so long because someone hates chalk,” she snarked. Some of the chalk fell from the blackboard onto her shoulders which dirtied her prized Imperial Scholar cape. Damian noticed it and automatically swiped it off. Sure, he still disliked the feeling of chalk, but he instinctively wanted to clean up after Anya.

Anya smirked at Damian. “Heh heh, you can handle chalk! You’re just a picky little boy.”

Damian flushed slightly. “I only do it when it concerns you, okay?”

“Because I’m super amazing and cool, right?”

Damian had matured to the point that he wasn’t embarrassed about his affections towards Anya. “Yeah, and that you’re my only exception.”

“Awww.” Anya leaned down to give him a little kiss. Damian had a big sappy grin on his face. Behind them, Becky groaned while Ewen and Emile made loud kissing sounds.

“We’re never going to get any work done, are we?”

Chapter Text

“Anya doesn’t like you after all.”

Damian couldn’t help but replay Anya’s words over and over in his mind. She’d looked up at him back then, stubby legs still on the floor, her doe eyes wide and watery. She’d said- no, spat out that sentence so swiftly, so naturally, thus it took him off guard. Back then, he’d jolted and glared at her, a blush on his cheeks. 

“Anya doesn’t like you after all.”

Huh?! What the hell was that? Who referred to themselves in third person? And d-did that mean she once… liked him? Because she said “after all”, right? But now she didn’t like him, for whatever reason (not that he cared!). And she wanted to make sure he knew, because she was a devious, scheming witch!

Damian scowled and banged his fist on his desk. He accidentally irritated his scratched palms (battle wounds he got from defending Anya, who was totally not his damsel in distress) and he let out a small yelp of pain. Thankfully, he was studying alone in his dorm’s common room so no one was there to witness his embarrassing incident. 

Damian glared at the red lines on his palms. Urgh, they weren’t deep enough to be bandaged, but they still hurt a ton. The nurse had given him some ointment for the scratches, and while that stuff smelled weird, Damian dutifully spread it over his palms every night because he was a good child. 

Back then, the nurse had actually thought Anya was the one who’d injured Damian (again). When Damian had been punched by Anya, Damian took the time to liberally describe the horrifying incident to the nurse while she patched him up. So the nurse was rather surprised (but pleased) when Anya spoke up about “Sy-on boy” saving her from a ball.

Dammit, now the nurse knew about that stupid nickname!! Damian gritted his teeth. He sounded so uncool. Shut your mouth, Forger! 

Anyways, his hands hurt, but Damian had fully expected it. Even if his body automatically moved before his mind could catch up, he knew what he got into when he tried to intercept that ball. Bill Watkins (aged six) was doubtlessly a fearsome enemy. Damian had heard his classmates grunt in pain when the ball smacked into them. He also knew the throw would hurt that dumb runt Anya a lot because the angered Bill put in way more strength than necessary. So yes, Damian did anticipate the pain. But he did “save” Anya in the end, so maybe the pain was worth it. Or was it…?

Stupid! Damian frantically shook his head, heat rising up his cheeks. She’s a commoner girl!! You don’t have to save HER! It’s not like- it’s not like she’s ever been nice to me!

Agitated, Damian quickly turned the page of the book he was reading. As he did so, the edge of the paper glided over fingers and Damian felt a faint tingling sensation, but it was gone as quickly as it came. Damian didn’t think much of it until he had to turn another page and he flexed his fingers- and then he felt it.

A sting from his finger.

Damian stared. A thin line was on the skin, not even wide enough for blood to seep out. Damian wiggled his hand a little and was shocked by how oddly sharp the pain was. Damian grumbled and bit his lip. It wasn’t agonizing pain, like when he’d twisted his ankle that one time, but it was completely irritating and distracting. And what made it worse was that it didn’t look like it would hurt. Paper was so thin and weak and Damian could easily tear the whole book into shreds if he wished. And the wound itself (if it could even be called a wound) was miniscule and Damian didn’t bother to measure it with a ruler. Only the skin had been scratched, and no important parts were touched, so why did it hurt so much?!

Damian tried to move his hand again but it just hurt, so he one-handedly flipped the page, this time careful to not touch the edge. Damian couldn’t take his eyes off that thin line as it gradually reddened and that stinging increased in intensity. Damn this paper cut. It wasn’t supposed to hurt!

It was funny how Damian had experienced another hand injury just a few days prior, but this paper cut bothered him more than the scratches he got. That paper cut was completely unexpected and out of the blue, and it had come when Damian was doing something harmless like reading. Damian knew people could get hurt in competitions, so there was always that risk. Besides, whether he admitted it or not, Damian voluntarily stepped in front of Anya. He chose to bear that pain (for her, but Damian didn’t like thinking about that because it made his chest abnormally hot). But Damian didn’t choose to get this damn paper cut! Urgh! 

It was just like how Anya had hurt him, Damian supposed. They bantered almost every day, with him initiating by teasing her clothes or her appearance. Anya would retort with her own insults: “bastard” “shithead” “jerk”, and while Damian did feel mildly insulted (mostly annoyed that she wasn’t worshipping the ground he walked on like the other kids), he wasn’t hurt. Because there was no WAY that he, the proud scion of the noble Desmond family, would be so easily hurt by a random commoner girl who somehow lived in his mind rent-free. 

(And besides, he knew what would happen when he provoked her. He remembered the way her knuckles had crashed against his cheek.)

Damn, the paper cut was seriously hurting now. Damian blew on it instinctively but the moisture just made it sting way worse. The pain nagged on the back of his mind, distracting him from the book he was reading. 

… Damian was thinking about Anya again. After his heroic save and her extremely disappointing finale, he went up to yell at her. Because clearly, he did something nice for once (!!) in his life and she literally threw it in the trash. What an ungrateful brat. And then she said she didn’t like him when he sacrificed his MVP for her? Huh?!

(He remembered the stunned way she looked at him when she realized what had happened. “You protected Anya? Are you good after all?” His heart had thumped extra loud and he instinctively looked away.)

“Anya doesn’t like you after all.”

If he could brush off her actual insults, why did this single line bother him so much? And actually, compared to what she usually said, that was pretty tame. She just “didn’t like” him, not that she “hated” him or thought he was “mean”. This wasn’t supposed to mean anything at all!

She’d suddenly blurted it out without any preamble or warning. It was a blunt statement, one that came straight from her heart. It was unexpected, but it stung. And she was just some silly commoner girl who barely passed her classes! It wasn’t like she’d said something awfully smart or witty. It was just…

But if she said that, that would mean she did like me… at some point. As brief as it is.

Damian’s face steadily turned red. His heart was thumping so quickly, it felt like it was about to jump out of his chest. 

The scratches on his hands stung, but his paper cut stung more. The shallow, tiny cut from a thin, wobbly piece of material was hurting him more. 

“Anya doesn’t like you after all.”

Well, I don’t like you either!! Damian argued back at the voice in the back of his head that suspiciously sounded like Anya. Stupid girl. Stupid Anya.

Her words hurt him like a paper cut. Her words shouldn’t have hurt him. She shouldn’t have hurt him at all.

Damian let out a frustrated sigh and slammed his book shut. His face felt like it was on fire.

So why did he care? Why was she bothering him so much?

And why… why… 

Damian gritted his teeth to suppress his distressed scream.

Why did he want her to actually like him?

Chapter Text

It wasn’t love. Or a crush. Or even liking.

At least, at first it wasn’t. 

Because Damian was an immature six year old who could barely comprehend friendship. He could hardly tie his shoelaces, let alone understand his complex and often contradictory feelings towards that commoner girl who just would not leave his mind. She was like a parasite, but a cute parasite with a bright smile who’d wormed her way into his brain. And she stayed there whether he liked it or not.

It happened a little like this: Anya stared straight at him, then punched his face. Damian’s cheeks had gone red from embarrassment, then they went red for an entirely different matter.

It was weird. She was weird, and definitely the weirdest person he’d met in his admittedly short life. She clung to him and tried to chat with him even if he rejected her time and time again (Dammit! Why was she so determined?!). Her grades were absolutely horrid, and so was her handwriting (she even spelled her own name wrong, for goodness’ sake!), yet she had a strange intuition like she could see through people. And her damned smirk! It was so infuriating, yet it looked incredibly stupid on her. Besides, who constantly referred to herself in third person and bragged about nothing? (Hey, at least Damian could brag about being a Desmond.) And thus, Damian naturally found Anya interesting, and just as naturally, he was drawn to her. Just out of curiosity! Because how could a person just not be… weirded out by that dumb shrimp?

It was like a sickness. One that made his heart beat oddly fast and his chest feel itchy and hollow. It was uncomfortable and foreign and too warm, yet there was undeniable saccharine sweetness hidden underneath it all. Damian knew princes could get cursed by witches in stories, so maybe Anya was a witch who’d placed an evil spell on his heart! Except Anya was both the origin and the cure of this curse, ‘cause when she smiled, all of that itchiness went away and it felt like flowers were blooming in his chest. 

So unfair. 

It was like being seasick. Damian remembered the floor would float and wobble underneath his feet when he got seasick. It was dizzying, his vision would spin, and then his brain would melt into a pile of mashed potatoes. His body would move on its own like during that dodgeball match. It was possession, it was irrationality, and it was scary.

Anya Forger made him lose all control. Somehow. 

So it was very scary, yet Damian didn’t want to be intimidated. If he tried to get Anya expelled, that would mean he gave in to that runt witch (and he wouldn’t be able to see her ever again, which for some reason bothered him). Damian snootily turned away every time Anya approached him. She was the only one to make him feel that way, and Damian did not like it. 

Yet Anya hovered around him like an annoying… bee? Butterfly? She was perpetually in his orbit, always asking to go to his home, always trying to befriend him. Of course Damian staunchly rejected her every time, because she was nowhere on his level and if Damian accepted, that meant he was showing weakness! That meant he liked her, and there was no way he was gonna give in!! There was no way he could let her and everyone else know that if she— if she pestered him enough, he would just let her in!! 

For the first few years, Damian viewed Anya with suspicion, annoyance, and mild fear. How had this silly idiot turned his life upside down? How did she unlock such a diverse range of emotions? And she wasn’t even somebody he was supposed to like. Anya was a commoner, occasionally violent, a complete derp, never called Damian by his real name, and just… she didn’t fit in. She never did. She was bold and uncaring and possessed no sense of shame. She would just brazenly march towards him and fire her usual question of “can I go to your house?”. 

Damian could never figure Anya out, yet it seemed like she had him figured out. 

And then some time later, Anya decided she had enough of Damian rejecting and mocking her, so she just… stopped. 

Huh.

And Damian didn’t care. Not at all. If anything, he was glad that she’d stopped bothering him!! Good riddance! That girl was finally leaving him alone! Good-freaking-bye, Anya Forger, and never again! 

When Anya ignored Damian for the fourth day in a row, Damian couldn’t take it anymore. That little pipsqueak had purposefully turned away from Damian even when he was yelling in her ear. Damian was seething and resembled a bratty, miserable puppy who’d been abandoned. 

It happened a little like this: Anya was wearing her hair in two pigtails. They were so inviting, and Damian was right behind Anya. A wicked thought popped up in his mind, plus he was mad at Anya, so naturally he stretched out a hand—

And paused.

Because—

Damian didn’t even know why. He was seasick again, his mind screaming and shouting while his hand shook. 

Since he would look stupid if he retracted his hand without doing anything, Damian did the next best thing.

Which was to pat Anya’s head. Softly. 

(Next to him, Emile collapsed, while Ewen let out a high pitched screech.)

“Heh,” Anya had said nonchalantly without even turning back. “A gust of wind just blew past Anya’s head.”

Damian instantly leapt away, his face and his hand completely red. Now he almost collapsed, and oh he was so dizzy, and Anya had ignored him again, so—

Now Damian was the one who wanted to gain Anya’s attention. Now he was the one pestering her. 

It happened a little like this: Damian loudly exclaimed that oh, he might as well tutor somebody in maths because they were failing so terribly, totally not a call-out for someone he knew got exactly 27 marks last test, then promptly rejected all the other excited kids clamouring for his attention. Damian was always mysteriously at the cafeteria even though he preferred eating in his dorm. Random textbooks found their way to Anya’s desk, all with Damian’s name printed on them. In that fashion, Becky became the messenger owl. Sometimes it was George, and when Anya started talking to George more, it felt like Damian was going to implode. He clenched his fists, turned up his nose, and desperately tried to stop the itch in his heart. 

Becky cackled at Damian’s frustration. Ewen and Emile were supportive of Damian, but they also sniggered behind his back.

It happened a little like this: Damian went to school one day, literally nothing (good or bad) had happened, then Anya actually looked at him and said,

“Heh. Sy-on boy’s hair looks stupid this morning.”

The way Damian instantly lit up was pathetic. He was just starving for scraps from his favourite and least favourite person at school. No longer was he scared of Anya Forger, now she just made him happy.

It happened a little like this: now Damian sometimes paid for Anya’s lunch, and then she came to his football matches, and now they started hanging out in the library. They had both grown up a little, with him still being a full head taller than her, and the slight bit of maturity was enough for them to start being amiable. They were friends now (sort of), and they bickered about topics in class, Damian scoffed at Anya’s obsession with the Spy Wars cartoon and insisted the comics were better, and of course Anya still called him “Sy-on boy”. 

Anya was still weird, but everybody had gotten used to it. People stopped teasing about her horns once it became old news. And instead of mocking her, Damian often chimed in with Becky in defence of Anya. And Anya sometimes strangely popped in to defend Damian. 

Being friends with Anya was nice. They still liked bothering each other, but it was a mutually consented sort of bothering. Anya was the only soul allowed to mess up Damian’s hair, and Damian was the only one who was allowed to make fun of Anya’s handwriting when he tutored her. 

It happened a little like this: when they were ten, somebody gave Anya chocolate at Valentine’s, and Damian exploded. How dare someone else show romantic interest in his… in his friend! And besides, they were all too young for romance! Anya didn’t even care when Bondman kissed Princess Honey in the grand finale (she was more interested in Bondman’s silenced pistol). What the hell was this random guy trying to do, huh?! Steal Anya away??

“You’re jealous, Desmond,” Becky had told him bluntly after she watched him glare at his textbook for an entire hour.

“Not,” Damian peevishly replied, but everybody knew it was a lie. 

“You like her.”

“Shut up, Blackbell.”

Damian didn’t understand romance. From what he’d been told, romance was what happened when two people liked each other so much they could do that gross thing the adults called kissing, then they would hold hands and date, and then they would get married and have kids. Except Damian’s parents never kissed, yet they got married and had him. The idea of exchanging spit was so foreign and disgusting to Damian’s young brain. He and his friends booed every time the girls talked about Berlint In Love. Anya said her parents were smooching now and she pretended not to see them. See, Anya didn’t like kissing as well! There was no way this stupid guy could win her heart. Not when Anya. Didn’t. Care. 

So naturally, Damian was horrified when he started to grow up more.

It happened a little like this: it was a chilly morning, a thin line between winter and spring, and Anya was standing right next to Damian during the morning assembly. By now, Damian was used to his heart rate speeding up around her. It was just the way it was. But for some reason, recently Damian didn’t even like thinking about Anya’s name anymore. It felt too… sacred. Too intimate. Too much. She was just “that girl” and “her” in his head, and it took serious effort for him to say her name in real life. Every time he said “Anya”, heat would rise to his cheeks. Sometimes he would even stutter, so he inhaled and got out “Anya” in one breath. His reactions to Anya kept on getting weirder and weirder. 

Anya wasn’t looking at Damian. She was struggling to not fall asleep, and Damian internally sniggered. Damn, she sure looked stupid. He gave her shoulder a nudge and that seemed to do the trick. Her cheeks looked especially squishy that morning.

Their arms were touching because they were standing so close to each other. Normally, Damian would’ve jerked away since they were at the age when a boy and a girl stood too close to one another, they were mercilessly teased for it. But now, they couldn’t help it, and it wasn’t like anybody would laugh at boys and girls being forced to stand together for assemblies. 

Still…

It felt warm. Damian’s stomach fluttered pleasantly. He was too conscious of the arm that was in contact with Anya. Her hand looked so small, so soft, and what if he brushed against it—

Damian gulped. No, no, no. He trained his eyes on the flowers that lined the hall. There was fresh dew shining on those petals. NO.

What the hell?? Was Damian just thinking about Anya’s hand? His friend’s hand?? That was just creepy and wrong. 

(Never mind that they had held hands when they were kids, back when they were stuck in that cave—)

It happened a little like this: some months after that, they were all enjoying ice cream after their summer exams. Anya had gotten strawberry because the peanut flavoured ice cream wasn’t available. Damian had gotten chocolate, but that wasn’t important. The only thing Damian remembered was the pink melted ice cream on Anya lips, she’d innocently licked them, tongue darting out, and Damian felt hot pinpricks on the back of his neck.

Oh no.

Oh no. 

Now Damian was certain he was a pervert. What sort of guy looked at his friend’s lips?? And why did his entire body feel hot like he’d been thrown into a pot of boiling water? Stupid, stupid, stupid. This entire thing was so mortifying and Damian was about to die from being fried alive by his indecent thoughts. 

It didn’t help that Anya suddenly spun towards him, her green eyes bright like she’d seen through his heart. Damian coughed and turned away.

Something had been subtly shifting, like sands running down a slope. Anya started wearing ribbons in her hair, Damian started to stare, and everyone pretended to not notice. 

It happened a little like this: several people asked Anya to the end-of-the-year ball, but she waited for Damian to choke out that simple sentence to her. It happened a little like this: Anya’s small hand firmly in his, their slightly clumsy footwork matching up, her seafoam dress spinning and Damian being extraordinarily jittery (yet happily so) for that night. It happened a little like this: Anya took Damian’s hand, hesitated for one second, then placed it on her waist. 

She fit perfectly in his arms. Anya giggled at his serious expression. 

It happened a little like this: they were studying together in the library, it was a golden afternoon, and Damian was busy writing his notes. Then he looked up and caught Anya staring at him. Anya had instantly turned away, her button nose stubbornly tilting up, but there was a light pink haze on her cheeks.

“Damian,” she said.

“So I’m not Sy-on boy anymore?” Damian’s tone was amused but gentle. 

“Well, do you want me to call you that?”

The library clock ticked. A sugar cube idly dissolved in Damian’s coffee. Anya tapped her pen against her notebook.

“You can choose.”

They were always studying, always quizzing each other on their weak spots. It was raining, Damian was shivering on the football field, and Anya was cheering for him. Throughout the seasons and months, Anya’s hair grew longer, then she cut it short. Damian hit a growth spurt and his friends watched as he outgrew his uniform. 

“You’re seriously throwing that away?” Anya pointed at the boxes of old clothes outside Damian’s dorm door.

“They don’t fit me anymore, Forger. Unlike you, people actually grow taller,” Damian drawled.

“Hmm.” Anya opened a box, then took out one of Damian’s sweatshirts. She held it to her chest. “This is Anya’s now,” she said with an air of smugness.

Damian snorted. “Yeah, yeah, you can take it.”

The class went on field trips. On long train rides, Becky swapped with Damian so he could sit next to Anya. Anya started snoring on Damian’s shoulder, he blushed and looked away. 

It happened a little like this: Damian and Anya became Imperial Scholars at the same time, but none of the Desmonds came. Demetrius had graduated and was stuck somewhere but at least he’d sent Damian a long congratulatory letter. Donovan and his wife barely batted an eye. 

So there they all were outside the hall, waiting and waiting, the heavy Imperial Scholar’s robe weighing Damian down. Becky tried to make Damian laugh by spontaneously bursting into a duet with Ewen, Emile offered his body as a punching bag, and even George came by and sat with Damian for a while. Bill Watkins patted Damian’s shoulder in support (unfortunately adding to the weight on Damian’s shoulder). Henderson kept a silent watch over the kids, his kids, the ones he’d looked after for a decade now. 

Mr and Mrs Forger’s expressions grew more and more murderous as the hours passed. 

And of course Anya was there as a shoulder for him to cry on. She’d always been sensitive to his emotions and she could read him very well. She took off his cloak, rubbed small circles on his back, and let him rest his head in the crook of her neck. She held his hand. It was calm, and it was peaceful. 

It happened a little like this: a red-eyed Damian stared at the girl who’d sat with him from noon to midnight, the girl who unconditionally supported him, and thought,

“This is the girl I want to spend the rest of my life with.”

Stargazing by the lake. Dancing in the rain. Anya whooping when Damian took her around the town in his new car. Cozy afternoons tucked in the corner of the common room. Movie nights with friends, salt and caramel on their lips. Kisses in the sun, kisses by that lamppost at night, kisses behind school staircases, kisses drenched with melted ice cream.

Then Anya faintly smiled, and dropped his hand.

(Far far away, Demetrius looked up from his morning newspaper and closed his eyes. His headache was getting worse.)

It happened a little like this:

“Sorry. I’m a liar.”

Mr Forger, who was practically Damian’s father at this point, had a gentle, apologetic smile on his face.

Demetrius had understandably ran away for his own safety. He left a small key in his last letter to Damian, safely hidden in the heavy envelope which smelled of gunpowder and fire. Damian had Mr Forger make a copy of the key, and then he moved. 

(“This is my last service to you, Damian,” Jeeves said as he unlocked the door that never opened. That was the first and last time Jeeves used his given name.)

It happened a little like this: running under the cover of the night, fake IDs, nibbling on Mrs Forger’s atrocious cookies, bumpy car rides, keeping watch as Mr Forger listened to the radio, Anya’s hand in his, small towns and smaller houses, living a life with the family he’d chosen. 

“You should learn how to use this,” Mr Forger (no, Loid) said as he pressed a pistol in Damian’s hands.

Yor frowned. “No, no, Damian, you should use this!” She presented him with a fine set of daggers. “I’ve always been your favourite, right? Because it was my punching style that made you fall in love with our Anya, right?”

“Just take both,” Anya suggested from her position at the window. Her pink hair was covered up with black dye, matching her mother. 

So they were on the run. Demetrius’s letters had to go through several people before they reached Franky, and then Loid. They hopped from town to town with so many fake names and identities. Damian went from being someone’s cousin to a disgraced son of a rockstar, and then a poor peasant boy and an orphan whose parents had died in an explosion. (The last one might be closer to the truth than anything else.) But Damian knew who he was and who he’d always been— he was Anya’s Sy-on boy— and he was content. 

The close quarters didn’t allow much for privacy, but they stole their moments anyway. When it was the kids’ turn to cook, Anya would press her lips to the back of Damian’s neck as he cut their vegetables. They held hands in the back of the car as they travelled. Sometimes their old favourite song would come up on the radio, Anya would shoot him that familiar smirk, and they would pretend to dance with their fingers walking up car seats. 

It happened a little like this: after an argument Loid had with his superiors, Anya snuck into Damian’s bed and they slept side by side that night, his hand in hers. 

“You’re not taking our children,” Loid had angrily declared into his radio. 

It happened a little like this: after years, the sky finally cleared up, and Damian anxiously went to meet his brother. Demetrius, missing a leg and sitting in a wheelchair, nearly stood up just to run towards Damian. Damian threw his arms around his brother, both of them grown adults now, but they both cried.

It happened a little like this: Becky had gotten engaged to some blond kid from Eden, Damian and Anya tasted golden champagne, Emile’s little sister graduated, the headlines from newspapers calmed down, and it felt like life was beginning again. 

It happened a little like this—

(She kissed his cheek.)

And this—

(He kissed her forehead.)

And this—

(With the biggest smile on his face, he got down on one knee.)

And this.

(She laughed and cried, but ultimately she said “yes”.)

Chapter Text

Of course Damian was familiar with Anya’s smiles.

She had that annoying, derpy “heh” smirk that she simply loved to rub in his face. It was the same smug smirk she did whenever she got into trouble with teachers. Anya looked positively evil with that smirk and those black horns on her head. It made Damian’s blood boil and it turned his face red (from anger, of course!). 

But then there was Anya’s soft smile.

Damian had first seen it when he was six. It was just a normal school morning, Anya was walking past with Becky, chatting about girly things or whatever—

And then she smiled. 

And Damian stopped in his tracks, his heart pounding, because this was different. Obviously it wasn’t Anya’s stupid smirk, but it wasn’t like her normal smiles either. Usually, when Anya smiled, her eyes would light up like twinkling stars in the night sky. (Then Damian would feel lightheaded.)

But this time, it was like her entire figure was glowing, unable to contain her sheer happiness. Her eyes were crinkly and her cheeks had that adorable pink flush. It was an infectious kind of smile that when you saw it, you couldn’t help but smile as well. It was a warm smile, a gentle smile, one that believed in Damian more than he believed in himself. Damian felt deliriously happy, and he absolutely couldn’t tear his eyes away from that girl. 

He’d never seen her smile like that.

(He wanted to make her smile like that.)

Of course, when asked about it, Damian instantly flushed and hollered, “Nothing! It’s nothing!”

Nothing, huh.

It’s nothing, Damian thought as his eyes were drawn to Anya like a magnet, hoping to catch her special smile again.

It’s nothing! Damian repeated as he listened to his classmates and desperately hunted for the reason for Anya’s smile.  

IT’S NOTHING! Damian screamed at himself when he found out Anya had gone shopping with Becky yesterday, and those two had bought matching keychains which was why Anya was so, so happy. 

Ugh! This entire thing was so dumb. Damian didn’t want to have matching keychains with that… that pipsqueak! Because that would mean he liked her (and she liked him), and that they were a thing, and that would just never happen!!

No, no, Damian did not like Anya Forger. Not one bit. Not even when her special smile felt like spring sunshine thawing his freezing hands. He wasn’t interested in Anya at all. He totally didn’t want to make her smile. And he totally, totally wasn’t jealous that she never smiled at him like that.

Anya smiled when Becky defended her. Anya smiled when she did well on a test (for once). And Anya smiled so, so much when her parents came to pick her up. It was all that special smile, that damned smile that melted Damian’s cold exteriors and reduced his brain to nothing but strawberry jam. 

But Anya never smiled at Damian like that. Not even when he sacrificed himself during that dodgeball match. 

Then again, of course nobody would ever know how much Damian liked Anya’s smile. That was just embarrassing. Damian wasn’t supposed to show weakness in front of a dumb commoner girl! So Damian furiously refuted Anya’s every attempt to befriend him and ran away when she took just a step closer.

Then throughout the months, they grew to tolerate each other. They stopped bickering as much now, which Anya took as a sign that she could visit Damian’s house. Of course Damian had to stop her, because what sort of madman invited themselves to the Desmond household? Damian kept on grumbling about how ugly Anya was when he secretly thought she was adorable. He endured her presence enough to tutor her on history while pretending he loathed it (he didn’t). 

“Thanks, Sy-on!” Anya would beam at him. Damian would blush and stammer, then disappointedly think,

It’s still not that smile. 

But just as they were on their way to becoming friends instead of frenemies, Damian got his first and only Tonitrus Bolt.

And it was Anya’s fault. 

So Anya was getting more and more desperate and was doing whatever she could to invite herself into Damian’s home. She started to write him notes and plastered them everywhere. Sticky memos on his locker, chocolate bars wrapped in paper scraps, pink glitter pen on cafeteria napkins. Anya once wrote on his desk. And they had a test that day.

Then Damian was accused of cheating on his test. Because he had words written on his desk. Words that he had never even read. 

Damian had frozen in terror. He literally couldn’t move, his mind was completely blank, and his blood felt like ice in his veins. Those words weren’t his, they were obviously Anya’s, but the school was very strict about cheating. More serious instances would’ve warranted expulsion, but since Damian was a first year and the written words weren’t related to academics, the school was more lenient. 

It stirred up quite the drama. Damian Desmond, the second son of the Desmonds, was accused of cheating? Oh, the scandal! Wasn’t he from a well-bred family! Wasn’t his older brother one of the youngest Imperial Scholars ever? Ohh, how shameful of that Desmond kid! 

Damian had begged and pleaded for anything but a bolt. He would stay behind for the whole year, he would be on cleaning duty till the end of his life, he would sacrifice all his lunch breaks to help his teachers. And Anya, having realized her mistake, admitted it was her who’d carelessly written on Damian’s desk. She said that Damian would never cheat, that he was an honorable kid, and that it was stupid Anya’s fault. She offered to bear Damian’s bolt, no, she would even take two bolts if it meant Damian wouldn’t get one. Those two first years created a ruckus outside of the department head’s office, all sobbing and wailing. 

But it was done. 

So Damian Desmond received a Tonitrus Bolt. And then promptly died.

Okay, physically he didn’t die, but he might as well have. The disappointment from his family seeped into Damian’s heart like poison and took root there. Damian had desperately turned to his brother, his cool older brother Demetrius who was never mean to him, but the expression Demetrius wore…

It crushed Damian’s tiny heart into a million little pieces. 

“Damian, I understand you didn’t write those words, but you should’ve been more careful. See, this is how your enemies can sabotage you.”

“You haven’t even been at Eden for a year, yet you’ve got a bolt already. Shame on you! You should learn from your brother.”

“You’re lucky you’re still young, or else we would’ve sent you to the countryside to live with your uncle. The mistake you made is irreversible.” 

Damian spent the entire day in his dorm’s toilets. Ewen and Emile couldn’t console him, because while they were good friends of Damian, they didn’t have bolts. Damian was inferior to them all. And he couldn’t be comforted by people superior to him.

Damian had barely begun to live, yet he was already dead. Dead, dead, he was a dead Desmond. 

But at this point, was he even a Desmond?

Desmonds didn’t get bolts. Donovan and Demetrius were all perfect Imperial Scholars who never even came close to getting a bolt. Damian, the youngest son, was a complete failure at age six. 

The next morning, a despairing Damian dragged his corpse to school, his eyes puffy and red. Like a wounded animal, he snarled and lashed out at everyone. Then stupid Anya Forger, with her cotton candy pink hair and dumb pretty eyes that bewitched him, had the gall to approach him.

Damian couldn’t believe this demoness was the one he tried to protect so long ago. 

“You ruined my life!” Damian screamed at her. His tears threatened to resurface. “Damn you, Forger! I’m worse than dead and it’s all your fault!”

Anya took a shaky step forward, her eyes also suspiciously moist. “I-I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to! I would take all the bolts in the world for you!”

Ah, words were sweet, weren’t they? But words were still just words, and Anya’s foolish act had cost Damian everything. 

“Why do you hate me so much?” Damian seethed. “Always bothering me. Always sabotaging my efforts.”

Anya’s lip trembled. “I just wanted to be friends with you!” she wailed. 

“Well, you’re doing an awful job at it!” Damian spat out his words bitterly. “Friends don’t bring trouble to each other. And at this point, you’re just an enemy trying to— trying to infiltrate my circle, bewitching me with your stupid freakin’ smile, just so I can lower my guard, and then you can strike and tear out my heart with your claws—”

Anya was properly crying now. Damian hadn’t realized he was doing the same until he felt hot liquid running down his cheeks. His throat constricted.

“You completely destroyed my life, Forger!” Damian growled. “I’m never forgiving you! Don’t talk to me ever again! Don’t even look at me!”

“I-I…” Anya was hiccuping. Her crying face usually made Damian feel like he was a crumpled up piece of paper, but now, he just wanted to crush her. Crush her, tear her apart, destroy her like how he’d destroyed him. Wipe that smug grin off her face permanently. Make sure she never showed anyone that soft smile again. 

“I HATE YOU!” Damian screamed with all his might. His words rushed out, furious and without hesitation, like pent-up water behind a broken dam. And once he did, he couldn’t take it back. 

And the worst part was that Damian genuinely meant it. He was blinded by rage, but when he’d calmed down, he still meant it. For once, his mind and his lips were in agreement about Anya. Anya stumbled backwards like she’d been shot in the chest. 

Even Becky was silent. Becky knew how strict Eden’s rules were, and she knew Anya had crossed a line when she (intentionally or not) sabotaged Damian. 

“Fine!” Anya screamed back, her hands clenched in fists. “I don’t wanna be friends with you anymore!”

“Even better!” Damian roared, all fury and pain. He was a bundle of bitterness now, as unstable as a live wire. “Run back to the hellhole where you came from!” he spat out, then aimed his worst insult at her like a missile, “I bet your parents wish you’d never been born!”

And then Anya burst into tears and ran away. Damian stared after her, still burning and seething. He didn’t regret. He didn’t feel guilty. 

He was just deeply wounded. And so he lashed out. 

Life was more awful after Damian and Anya’s big fight. He was forced to admit her shenanigans bought him entertainment. And having Anya’s attention felt nice. But at the same time, Damian was miserable and despondent. His ego had been cut into pieces and scattered all over the school, so he guarded what little dignity he had with astounding savagery. 

Damian’s friends and teachers could sense he was spiraling into a pit of doom. They suggested for Damian to make it up with Anya. Obviously, Damian staunchly refused. If anything, Anya should come begging for his forgiveness!

So Damian didn’t care until one day, Anya came rushing in the classroom with the brightest smile on her face. It was one of her special smiles, except it was more blinding than anything Damian had ever seen. Anya danced and pranced around, enthusiastically shook the hands of seniors she had never talked to, and marched around with her head held up high. This was a smile that could save the world. This was a smile that could almost mend his torn-up heart.

(Key word: almost.)

Becky was bemused. “Anya, what’s going on?”

“WORLD PEACE HAS BEEN ACHIEVED!” Anya boomed with the proudest grin on her face. “Anya saved the world! And it turned out the evil superboss isn’t evil! He was never evil in the first place!!”

“Forger, what the heck?”

“What’s this little girl talking about?”

But apparently Anya was so ecstatic that she completely ignored everyone else. She even bought candy for the entire class (“Pa says we should all celebrate!”) and happily passed it around. None of the kids understood what was going on, but Anya’s delight was infectious and hey, everybody liked free candy. Anya was showing her lovely smile to everybody until she reached Damian. And then the smile evaporated before Damian could carve it into his memory. 

She didn’t give him any candy. 

And Damian sat there, frozen in time.

Oh.

Then Anya was laughing with the rest of her classmates, telling ridiculous stories about how she’d saved the world with her dog and her parents. And everybody was unwrapping their candy and happily putting it into their mouths. Ewen and Emile traded theirs with big smiles. (“Ooh, I’ve always wanted to try the cola flavour!” “Sweet, can I have your lemon one?”)

Oh.

Normally, Damian would’ve been pissed. How dare that commoner girl purposefully ignore him? But now, Damian’s heart was no longer as well guarded as it used to be. He’d been smashed into pieces, then hastily patched up to make it seem like he was functioning. 

So Damian despaired. 

Fine, Damian was broken enough to confess he missed Anya’s light. Fine, fine, fine, he missed her, alright? She’d given everyone candy, even George freakin’ Glooman, and that was just pathetic. Damian, the shameful second son, was worse than the permanently depressed George. 

So if he said sorry to Anya, everything would be okay again, right? Right?

So Damian swallowed up his pride, twitched uncomfortably, but ultimately approached Anya. 

“I’m sorry for yelling at you. Can we be friends again?”

It was short, yet it was all Damian could manage.

Anya stared at him blankly. Damian tried again.

“I was upset and hurt, so I was unfairly mean to you. I’m sorry about that. Can we… try to be friends again?”

Anya blinked. Oddly enough, she looked older than she was. There was a strange sort of sobriety on her face. 

“Damian, I accept your apology.”

Damian, he thought faintly, his heart sinking for no reason. She never calls me Damian. I’m not her Sy-on boy now. 

Anya’s expression was firm and almost adult-like.

“But I don’t want to be friends with you anymore. You hurt me too. You told me to leave you alone, so I did. I don’t need you anymore.”

Damian stared at Anya for a few seconds and an eternity. She’d never looked so serious before. She always seemed like a carefree jokester with her dumb smirks and occasional soft smiles that annihilated his poor heart. 

And now Damian was the exception. He’d turned the silly girl into a cold adult. He’d broken her. 

“Fine,” Damian scoffed, his voice thick and wobbly, and that was the last uncaring front he could put up before he scarpered.

The next year, Anya dropped down to another class. They didn’t talk. They basically pretended the other didn’t exist. “Good riddance,” Damian would snark, but inside, his heart felt twisted up. At first Ewen and Emile chimed in with their insults, but they realized that only made Damian feel worse, so they stopped talking about Anya completely. 

They grew up. Damian had to repair his reputation and regain his family’s trust. Anya exclaimed that her parents had gotten “married to each other again” to everybody’s confusion. Damian busied himself with his studies and earned a few more stars. Becky and Anya continued to be best friends. Damian watched as Anya grew to be strangely proficient at basketball despite her height. After winning her first match, Anya wore that special smile again. This time, it was directed to her mother who’d apparently trained her. Damian turned away, unable to watch the joyous mother-daughter interaction for personal reasons. 

“You look upset,” Emile offered.

“It’s because our class lost the match.” Damian’s team had lost against Anya’s. Anya did not spare Damian a single glance. Damian’s limbs felt extra heavy, like he was drowning in a pool.

(Anya once saved a drowning kid. Damian once spat out that Anya had drowned him.)

Then Anya showed that soft smile again when she won the lead role for the annual drama. Damian was only there because George was auditioning, and he wasn’t even friends with George. (Ugh, his excuses were growing more pathetic by the day.) George somehow won the male lead role, and would be performing right next to Anya. 

Damian couldn’t afford to feel jealous anymore. He was simply drained. He retreated to his dark corner in the library, stared blankly at his maths textbook, and sat there for a quiet afternoon. 

He got 97/100 for the next maths test. It felt like a hollow victory. 

It was easy for them to drift apart (not that they were close in the first place). They quickly found their own circles and those circles never overlapped. Damian and Anya became each other’s dumb friendship mistake they made when they were young and didn’t know a single thing. They pretended to ignore each other until they ignored each other automatically. They were no longer hostile since they no longer cared. They hurried past each other in the corridors, busy with their own lives. 

When they were eleven, Damian tried again.

He cleared his throat. “Forger.”

Anya turned. “Oh, Damian. Hey.”

(It was always Damian. Sy-on boy had died long ago.)

“I’m still sorry.”

A look of genuine confusion crossed Anya’s face. “For what?”

Damian awkwardly shuffled. Ohh, maybe this was a terrible idea after all. “... Remember that big fight we had in our first year? I’m sorry for all the insults. I’m sorry I wanted to hurt you.”

“I bet your parents wish you’d never been born” echoed in Damian’s mind. That was the worst insult anyone could give him, so he’d directed that to Anya. 

(Now, Damian had an inkling his birth was never planned. He was only born because his mother couldn’t get an abortion. Thus, he was a mistake from the beginning.)

“Ohh, that.” Anya seemed to remember, but what she said next made his heart shrivel up.

“I’d forgotten all about it, actually.”

Oh. Anya’s tone was light and casual and, dare he say, friendly. She wasn’t even mad. The thing that had been eating Damian alive for the past five years was just… nothing to Anya. 

Damian wasn’t the guy who made her cry in first year. He was just someone at her school. Which meant: he was no one. They’d drifted apart, they’d run away from each other, and Anya didn’t remember why. She’d just accepted it. 

That was when Damian learned the opposite of love wasn’t hate. It was indifference.

Anya patted Damian’s shoulder, and Damian both wanted to cringe and lean towards her. (This was the first time she’d touched him since… was it her classic punch? Oh God, please don’t let it be that punch.) “Don’t sweat it, we were both stupid and impulsive back then. And I think I threw a huge temper tantrum at you. Sorry about that.”

Damian swallowed. “And, uh, I don’t mind that you unintentionally set off a chain of events that, uh… made me get my bolt.”

He really didn’t. His family would’ve thought of him as a failure anyway, with or without the bolt. Damian couldn’t change that. 

And then they stared at each other, not friends, not enemies, just two kids stuck in the same school with spotty memories of each other. Anya had a peculiar look on her face. She opened her mouth and—

“Anya! Where are you!”

It was Becky.

Anya paused, then yelled back, “I’m doing something!” 

“Aww, geez!” Becky complained. “Is there anyone more important than your best friend?”

That did it. Becky swept Anya away, and Damian turned, his chest tight. How could he be more important than Becky?

This was for the best. They no longer annoyed each other, they were happy with their respective friend groups, and life at Eden was peaceful. No more fighting, no more bickering, and no more unnecessary violence. 

Damian thought of the bruise he’d gotten from her punch five years ago. Funnily enough, he missed it. Because at least that was a mark she’d left on him. There was evidence that she once took a proper look at him. 

Damian silently watched Anya’s basketball matches, his nose deep in a book. She was shining bright like a star, and Damian’s dead heart started fluttering again. Damian was ashamed of having feelings for her due to their history, but he couldn’t stop it. He was disgusted with himself. He’d said horrible things to her, and she’d forgotten said horrible things, and now his foolish heart was running towards the girl who’d unintentionally smashed it into bits. 

Anya still gave her moves weird names like in the comics. Damian’s lips quirked up, amused by her, then his smile fell. He felt like he didn’t deserve to be amused by her. Even one-sided feelings felt inappropriate. 

… Damian was terrible at moving on. 

They grew up some more. When Damian was thirteen, he became an Imperial Scholar. He was the first Scholar of his year. His parents didn’t come to the ceremony. This was fine. 

By now, Damian didn’t cry. Crying was for babies, and Damian was not a baby. He was cool and mature and grown-up. He understood things like logarithms and volumetric analysis and absolutely could not afford to waste time mooning after anyone. 

And he definitely didn’t think about Anya Forger anymore. That girl meant nothing to him.

(Liar, liar, liar.)

A year later, Anya finally received her eighth star and became an Imperial Scholar. Her special smile was almost as bright as the one she wore when she declared world peace in first year. Anya’s commoner parents were at the ceremony, joyful tears in their eyes. (Damian turned away.) Anya’s friends surrounded her and heaped her with praise. Anya was giggling, a twinkle in her soft green eyes. Damian started reciting the table of elements in his mind to drown out their voices. His eyes barely twitched. Everything was fine. 

Yet, Damian’s ears couldn’t help but perk up in interest. Anya was a new Imperial Scholar, thus it would definitely do her good if someone could show her the ropes. After all, the Scholars had a complicated list of duties. Besides, Scholars sat with each other at lunchtime, and Damian didn’t want their latest Scholar to feel left out. Damian knew how close knit the Imperial Scholar circle was. Anya Forger could sit with him. He wouldn’t mind. (He wouldn’t mind at all.)

Damian had his fantasies. Subtly shifting closer to Anya’s chair during group study sessions with the other Scholars. He would give her his notes and she would beam at him and say thank you. When the other Scholars berated her for her commoner status (because that would inevitably happen, right?), Damian would stand up for her because he was a decent person. Anya was new to this world, Damian was experienced, and so he could take care of her. 

So Anya nervously entered the Imperial Scholar’s lunchroom for the first time. Damian, being the gentleman he was, was about to stand up, but Anya was instantly welcomed by a group of girls. She smiled in relief, sat down, and they all began to chat excitedly. Like she’d been there from the beginning.

Damian raised his book higher until it completely covered his face. He let his food and his heart go cold.

… It turned out Anya didn’t need him. She didn’t need him at all.

She was weird and clumsy, but her girl friends were fiercely protective of her and showed her everything she needed to know. Despite everything, Anya fit right in. Damian was correct in saying the Scholars had a close knit circle, but Anya quickly became one with said close knit circle.  And Anya was nice to everybody, Damian included, but only in the polite, distant way she was to classmates she didn’t know well. Damian was just another entity living in her periphery. Anya didn’t need a guide to the posh, upper class world. She didn’t need Damian. Not even remotely.

So Damian said “fuck it”, took that wonky paper griffin she’d made for him all those years ago, and threw it in the trash. His hand wasn’t trembling. It wasn’t. 

How had he kept it for all those years?!

Why hadn’t he thrown it away long ago?

… And why was he carefully fishing it out of the trash bin, like the pathetic loser he was?

Enough of his self pity. Damian was fourteen now, which meant he was practically an adult, and he couldn’t afford these silly temper tantrums. 

So when Anya beat him at Classical Languages, Damian just said “congrats”. Cool, nonchalant, polite, because Damian didn’t care anymore. He opened his textbook with slightly more force than usual.

… Fuck. He’d gotten a papercut. 

One time, Anya was so busy reading her notes that she tripped in the corridor. And Damian happened to be at the right place at the right time, so he grabbed her arm. 

The noisy students hurried past them, none of them stopping to spare them a glance. Time moved on.

“Ooh, thanks,” Anya said absentmindedly. Her arm was still in Damian’s wrist, the contact burning his skin somehow. 

So he let her go.

Then Damian resolutely turned away, bitterness surging in his heart.

It was around this point that Damian realised it was awfully easy to isolate himself. Everybody was more grown-up now, and most people got along, so they didn’t rely as much on their existing friend groups. If Ewen and Emile found Damian annoying, they could easily leave him if they wished. (Not that they would do that.)

Damian was popular because of his looks and his grades, but he was surly and kept to himself. Girls soon stopped being interested in a guy who spent the vast majority of his free time in the library. They found him “boring” and “bland”. Plus, they complained he looked too “melancholy” with his droopy eyes. Not that Damian cared about the other girls. His only focus was not disappointing his family, but nothing he did managed to impress them and Damian was reaching his limit. 

During lunch, someone asked, “Hey, Damian, are you going to the Imperial Scholars’ ball?”

Damian stopped reading his book. “No,” he replied after a second of pondering.

(Anya and her friends were over there. She was wearing a blue ribbon in her hair today.) 

They teasingly took Damian’s book from him. Damian played along, because this was how friends bantered and Damian refused to cut himself off from all of his peers. “Geez, Desmond! Don’t tell me you’re studying again!”

Damian allowed himself to smile. “I wanted to go to the ball but unfortunately it clashes with my brother’s wedding.”

At the mention of Damian’s brother, everyone’s eyes lit up. “A wedding! How grand!” “Yeah, man, you can’t miss it.” “Is it going to be in the news?”

A friendly nudge in the ribs. “Sooo, Damian, is anyone gonna be your plus one? You know, your date to the wedding?”

Damian’s mouth felt dry. Anya’s hair ribbon was fluttering in the wind, its motion smooth and graceful. “You know I don’t date. I can’t afford to.”

“So unfair! And all the chicks dig your ‘cool and mysterious’ thing. Have none of them caught your eye?”

“I’ve never liked anyone that way,” Damian insisted. He wondered if Anya was able to hear that. “I’m not ready for romance.”

A chuckle. “You sound like an old man. Loosen up, you’re only fourteen!”

Damian glanced slightly to the side. Anya’s characteristic pink hair was gone. She’d slipped out of the room and he hadn’t noticed. Damian stabbed his fork into his steak and continued with his lunch. 

Life moved on. Anya and Damian manoeuvred around each other like clockwork, never getting too close yet never getting antagonistic either. Whenever he was around her, he filled his brain with academic facts so he could just stop thinking about her. Anya gave him odd looks sometimes, but Anya had always been odd, so he didn’t mind. 

“Damian?”

(It was a cold winter morning. Damian was, as always, early to class. And today Anya was here as well.)

“Mmhmm?”

“Are you okay?”

Damian bristled at the sudden, invasive question. He wasn’t okay. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever been okay. 

“You’re not my therapist, Forger. But I’m fine, thanks for asking.”

Their conversation felt stilted. They hadn’t chatted outside of school. Damian was always reserved, but when he was with Anya, he was simultaneously more guarded and more vulnerable. Even when they didn’t talk, it felt like she could see through him. 

“I’m sorry too,” Anya said suddenly. “I can’t figure you out. It’s alright if you hate me.”

Damian frowned. “I don’t hate you.” That wasn’t a lie. 

But he hated how Anya looked whenever she was with him. Puzzled, solemn, and impersonal. Like a mirror of Damian himself. She was so carefree with everybody else. She deserved to be happy and carefree. She deserved to smile.

Anya wrinkled her nose. “You’re… you’re so dark. And shattered. It’s scary, okay?”

“My apologies?” Damian didn’t mean to scare Anya. He’d always been weak and pathetic in front of her, and she could surely crush him like a bug. Or like a peanut between her fingers. Snap, and he was as good as gone. 

“… I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?”

“That…” Anya struggled, “I can’t help you.”

Those words were so simple, but they held a lot of unseen weight. “No one can,” Damian tried to explain. “But thanks for caring.”

Damian was aware he sounded like a robot. He had coached himself to feel less intensely after his embarrassing outbursts when he was young. (Well, younger.) He tried to forget about his struggles until he forgot why he had to. There was no point in wasting time being upset. 

Anya looked at him with pity and a tiny bit of guilt. She was still so expressive and shit, he could still read her well after all these years. Nostalgia and pain bubbled up inside Damian. 

“Take care, Damian.”

And then Damian’s facade cracked. How could he not when he was in front of her?

“Take care too.”

If Anya had her soft smile, then Damian also had his soft tone he only used when it concerned Anya.

Then Anya’s solemn face also cracked, and for a brief moment, the two of them were oddly vulnerable, but neither minded. 

Damian had wanted to be her hero. He wanted to protect the smile that he cherished so much, and that was why his dumb six-year-old self threw himself in front of her to catch that ball. But he turned out to be a villain instead. A few years passed and he wasn’t anybody at all. She viewed him with polite indifference, and there he was in the footnotes of the chapters of her life. Anya always looked sad whenever they talked, and Damian didn’t like that he made her sad. She never made the same face to anybody else. 

Shut up, self-centered bastard. 

Damian should honestly stop bothering.

Yet he didn’t. Or more accurately, he couldn’t. 

During the spring break when Damian was fifteen, he was sent to the countryside. The serene surroundings and the fast-growing grass reminded him of hope and new beginnings, and Damian felt like he could breathe again. 

So he tried to write a letter to Anya. At first it felt like choking up stones, but once the dam had been opened, he couldn’t stop it. 

He scribbled a few lines on the paper, crumpled it up, then started again. His thoughts and feelings about her were compressed in a tight little ball, with each year adding a new layer of complexity. It took time to carefully unravel his feelings. He spilled his words, ink bleeding from his heart, and with every sentence he scratched on that piece of paper, it felt like he was peeling a layer of himself off. Layer by layer, sentence by sentence, Damian unravelled himself until he was raw and tender. He was discovering parts of himself that he never knew about. Damian had painstakingly developed an elegant cursive that he used for homework and exams, but the handwriting in his letter was as erratic as the flow of his emotions. There were ink blots when he pressed his pen too hard. The strokes were uneven. Everytime he wrote out her name, it was in a hurry, like he couldn’t bear to linger on the contours of her name. 

Damian supposed it was both a love letter and an apology letter (even though they had both apologised already). Or neither. Damian’s feelings for Anya were complex— admiration, guilt, infatuation, envy, desire, bitterness, nostalgia— and on and on it went, like a ball of yarn that just wouldn’t stop rolling away. 

When Damian finally finished, his hands were sweaty and it was late at night. He couldn’t bear to reread the nonsense that came from the bottom of his heart since writing it was already hard enough. 

When he returned to school, he would give her the letter. 

If she accepted it and read it, maybe they could begin again. 

Obviously it was very embarrassing and Damian loathed being vulnerable, but Anya was kind. Even if she didn’t give a single shit about him (which he trusted that she didn’t), she would still be nice to him. 

Damian was nervous on the train ride back, yet it felt like he was finally doing the right thing. The special letter was tucked in an expensive envelope and sealed with one of those Bondman stickers that Anya liked. And Damian had bought a ribbon with a gradient that shifted from pink to green (perfectly matching her hair and her eyes). He tied and untied it until it was perfect. 

Damian should’ve known when Emile and Ewen looked slightly uneasy. Damian was so blinded by his mission to patch things up with Anya that he purposefully ignored the sinking feeling in his heart. Now was not the time to get cold feet. 

The atmosphere in Damian’s dorm was peculiar. Everyone there had known Damian since he was six. Damian dismissed it as him being unused to school life after a month in the countryside. One of the guys was bragging about his girlfriend, but immediately stopped when Damian entered. They tried to engage him with discussions about football and politics, but Damian was a man on a mission. He politely extracted himself from the conversation and hurried away. Everybody saw the pink-green ribbon, and everybody knew what it meant. 

(“Who’s going to tell him?” someone sighed. None of them knew how to answer.)

Damian’s heart was pounding furiously. The sunshine during his month away allowed his skin to regain a healthy flush. He looked good, didn’t he? Or at least looked decent. Put together. Not some depressed teenager two steps away from a mental breakdown. Damian turned a corner and—

Ah.

There she was.

Sitting on the lawn, her pink hair beautifully contrasting against the green grass. She was smiling gently, pure happiness shimmering in her eyes, her cheeks an adorable pink. Damian’s breath was stolen like always. Anya Forger was enchanting whenever she was truly happy. 

And her best smile, Damian’s favourite smile, was directed at the boy sitting next to her.  

He was a boy with mellow brown hair that looked golden in the sunlight. A pile of Bondman comics were around them. (Damian was sure he had those exact same comics in his room.) Their fingers were just lightly touching. Neither of them looked away from each other. 

The boy was beaming as he talked about the comics. And just as Damian was enchanted by Anya, Anya was captivated by the boy. Her smile was the softest and the most beautiful it had ever been. 

Nobody else could make her smile like that. 

The two heads in the afternoon sun, one pink and one brown, shifted closer. The boy said something and Anya giggled. It was such a pretty giggle. The boy had something in his hands— it looked like a paper heart. And judging from the wonky edges, it was something Anya had made.

Damian recalled the lopsided paper griffin gathering dust in his room, and thought: oh. 

In the distance, a bell tolled. A flock of birds flew past. 

Oh.

So this was what Emile and Ewen wanted to tell him.

Damian took a step backward. His heel crushed an unopened blossom, the poor thing dying before its petals got to unfurl. 

Oh. 

It was a warm spring afternoon and Anya couldn’t stop smiling. It felt like everything in her life was coming together. She felt so at ease, and she was also deliriously happy with excitement. She shyly twisted her fingers.

Anya had long learned to tune out other people’s thoughts. It was too much for her to deal with the thoughts of burnt out, neglected, and heartbroken teens. That was why she liked someone who could bring her innocence and light. Nothing like the dark, jagged pieces of the broken minds she once saw. 

Anya had turned off her ability, yet for a few strange moments, she could sense something. A tinge of melancholy and guilt in her otherwise sweet world. Like someone was calling out to her specifically, their voice muffled by the sea they were drowning in. 

“Anya? Do you wanna read volume seven together?”

Anya blinked, and that feeling was gone. Like it’d never been there. The familiar warmth settled in once again, enveloping Anya in her fluffy pink world, and she smiled.

“Yeah, let’s.”

Damian’s legs carried him away. He tried to rationalise his emotions, but oh everything was pouring out at the same time, and he should be happy for her, he should’ve moved on long ago, and he should’ve guessed, and—

Anya Forger was smiling so beautifully. That girl was living her best life. And Damian was merely a nameless observer who had no business being there. 

Again, why did he bother? They were just casual acquaintances and nothing more. Anya wasn’t hurt anymore. She didn’t need closure from him. She’d moved on, so why couldn’t he? 

Anya never smiled at him like that. She never would. He didn’t deserve her. He’d fucked up, and it had taken him too long to realize what he’d lost. 

At least she found happiness. And at least she found someone who could protect her happiness.

He should’ve fucking left her alone. They should’ve never talked, and they should’ve never been friends. He was fine with being in her periphery from the very start. If he’d never liked her, then he would never know what he’d lost. 

Damian stood there, chest heaving. Then suddenly, his hand moved. It was violent and swift.

He crushed the letter in his hand. The lifeless ribbon fell on the ground. 

Damian stared at the crushed envelope and the meticulously written letter that no one would ever read. A corner of that damned Bondman sticker was falling off. Damian also smiled, but it was a pained smile. This was just silly and pathetic. He was still acting like a kid. Unlike everyone else, he never grew up.

He moved on instinct, his actions vicious and rough. He crumpled up his letter into a ball, and it was more difficult than he’d thought because it was so thick. He’d written so so much, and a distressed scream slipped from between his teeth. He found a pebble, heavy and rounded, and haphazardly tied the crumpled letter to it with the ribbon. He didn’t care about perfect knots, no, he didn’t care about anything. He just wanted to get rid of it all. 

Damian’s lip trembled. The letter and pebble in his hand, he shut his eyes and recalled Anya on the basketball court. She was so confident and bold, she was never embarrassed by the quirky names for her moves, so Damian tried to channel that energy. 

With strength he didn’t know he possessed, he threw. He watched it sail through the air in a perfect arc, then it plopped down in the lake. Damian was panting. His vision was blurry.

Damian thought of his messy words melting in the water. Words that no one would see and words that he would forget. The pebble would bring it to the depths of the lake and there it would remain. The wet paper would soon dissolve. The ribbon would be discoloured. 

It was gone. 

Damian stared at the lake for a few seconds. He was stunned by what he’d done, but he was more stunned by his resolve. 

“Attention, Mr Eden student! I’m not a staff member at the school, but you simply can’t throw rubbish in the lake! That’s what bad kids do.”

Shit. Somebody had seen him. Damian spun around. A black-haired woman was standing there. Although she was scolding him, there was kindness in her ruby red eyes. Damian felt like he’d seen her somewhere before. 

Before Damian could stammer out an apology, the lady continued to speak. She took a step closer, a huge smile on her face.

“Despite that, your throwing technique was impeccable!” she gushed. “The flow, the form, it was all so elegant! And you know, it reminded me of…”

The woman was now close enough to see Damian’s pained expression. Her face fell.

“... the technique I passed on to my daughter.”

She passed Damian her handkerchief, her smile motherly and sympathetic.

“By chance, do you know her?”

Chapter Text

After spring break ended, Damian came back to school with his right arm in a cast.

Naturally, Anya was intrigued. She’d been away for the holidays and had no idea of what happened in Berlint. Her ears perked up at every mention of Damian’s name.

Anya nudged Becky. “Psst, what happened to Sy-on boy?”

“Oh, didn’t you hear? Damian broke his arm in a soccer match.”

“Ah, like Bondman in Season 4.” Anya still liked relating things to her favourite fictional character. “Sounds painful.”

Becky huffed. “Tch, I’m getting more of a headache from all of those kids surrounding him… what a bunch of boot-lickers.” Upon seeing Anya’s expression, Becky quickly added, “Of course I’m not talking about you, Anya! You may have a crush on him, but you recognise when he’s in the wrong! You’re not a blind follower!”

Anya’s eyes drifted over to her Sy-on boy. They were at that age when girls grew taller rapidly, and several of them were taller than Damian. But since Anya was a year younger than her peers, she remained the shortest girl in class. Damian’s brown hair looked as thick and as fluffy as always. And he seemed to have gotten a bit tanned during the holidays. And of course, his arm was in a cast with names scribbled over it. And as Becky had mentioned, their classmates were all very concerned with Damian and surrounded him like a flock of excited birds. 

Hmph. Anya crossed her arms. Damian was injured. Didn’t they know to give him personal space?

Anya remembered the times when her parents got injured. They were usually confined to their beds and rather grumpy. Well, since Damian was already usually grumpy, Anya didn’t want to make him grumpier. 

Damian did look a bit moody. Anya didn’t need to read his mind for that. His long, pretty eyelashes drooped down. Hmm, the shape of his eyes was nice. Anya peered at him for a bit longer. Ever since she’d entered the school, she observed Damian for the sake of the mission. She’d always specifically looked out for him. Damian was a constant in her school life, and she’d long learned to recognise his features. Neatly combed hair. Haughty hazel eyes. Hands nonchalantly stuffed in pockets. A boy tucked in a corner of the library. Running on Eden’s green lawns in shorts and sneakers. Somehow, she’d memorised the shapes and lines that made up the figure of her Sy-on boy. 

Becky noticed. “Anya, you can stare, but I want you to do something! It frustrates me to see you like this!” she chastised. 

“But you just told me that all those people who bother Sy-on boy are book-lickers.”

“The term is boot-licker! Anyways, I also said you’re not like the rest of them.” Becky glanced at Damian, then back at Anya. She lowered her head to whisper conspiratorially, “I think you should talk to him. He’ll probably appreciate kind words from an actual friend.”

“But he looks annoyed by the attention! I don’t wanna make him feel worse.”

Speaking of attention, during their first lesson, the teacher gave special praise to Damian for finishing his homework even with his arm in a cast. “Damian remained committed to his work and submitted essays written by his non-dominant hand. Although his handwriting is understandably messy, it’s still legible, so it must have taken him a long time to do his work. This is the true spirit of a student!” Everybody “oohed” in awe and clapped their hands. Anya found herself impressed too. Her handwriting was downright horrible (Henderson’s aghast expressions came to mind), so if she had to write with her left hand, she might as well be writing hieroglyphs. 

Anya watched as her classmates fought to carry Damian’s books and write down notes for him. Ewen, who’d carried Damian’s bags from day one, resumed his duty with pride. Emile snatched Damian’s books from all the girls clamouring for them. “Bossman doesn’t want you to touch his stuff!” Emile sniped. 

In a world where most people (Anya unfortunately included) had impure motivations for befriending the Desmonds’ second son, Anya was glad that Damian had Ewen and Emile. Becky was right— much of the crowd around Damian were boot-lickers. Their families wanted to get closer to the Desmonds to gain more power. And while some of them secretly despised Damian for being annoying, they still put on bright smiles in front of him. Damian couldn’t tell who was genuine or not. It made Anya angry on his behalf. 

(But then again, what right did she have? Sure, Anya liked Damian, and he was a genuinely good friend, but she had Operation Strix hanging over her head. She might be the one most guilty of using Damian.)

People were also fighting to write their names on his cast. Obviously, Ewen and Emile had the first dibs, and their names were proudly shown in bold letters. The girls came next (the same girls whose parents told them to befriend Damian and the ones who didn’t like Anya for some reason). They doodled butterflies and hearts around their names in sparkly glitter pens. It was almost blinding. Becky groaned and complained about it. “Why would you waste your precious ink on a cast that he’s gonna take off in two weeks? These girls should write love letters instead!” Becky then nudged Anya with a grin. “Hey, Anya, I’m giving you ideas!”

Anya thought about her classmates’ names scribbled all over Damian’s cast like they were leaving their mark on him. Anya had famously left her mark on Damian in the shape of her knuckles on his face during their first year. Back then, Anya had felt vindicated upon seeing the bruise on Damian’s cheek. Served him right for insulting her Pa! So when a grumpy Damian walked around with a bandage on his face, Anya smiled to herself, satisfied. Damian deserved that punch.

Now that they had both slightly grown up, Anya didn’t hit Damian as much now. Sure, sometimes he did have his punch-worthy moments, but Anya didn’t want to get a bolt again, so she would just lightly tap his shoulder. (His face would immediately go bright red “in anger”.)

Hmph. Now Anya kind of wanted to leave her mark on Damian again. Not because he deserved to be punched, or because she was bothered by him, she just… wanted to. ‘Cause it would feel nice. 

Anya remembered that she would occasionally doodle on Damian’s hands when he sat next to her in class. He’d let her, and she didn’t stop, so it continued. She drew stars around his knuckles, the nub of her pen tracing invisible lines, her thumb brushing against his skin. Sometimes he had a papercut, and Anya navigated her pen carefully to not cause him any pain. He always stuffed his hands in his pockets, but when he took them out, Anya felt a rush of satisfaction upon seeing her messy scribbles on him. Sometimes Damian would steal her pen and draw on her hand instead, for example a “heh” face on her pulse point. (His face would always be oddly flushed.)

It was that impulse that led her to him. Obviously, Anya knew not to bother Damian between lessons since he was usually prepping (“Sy-on boy’s gonna get along with Papa because they love preparing.”). And Damian was steadily getting more bothered by everyone treating him differently just because he broke his arm. 

“I don’t wanna be pitied!” Damian thought with a scowl. “Besides, all of this attention feels fake, but I have to accept it with a grateful smile because I’m from the noble Desmond family! But still, I can’t help but think about that girl…”

Anya instantly looked up in interest. Who was that girl that Damian was thinking about? For a moment, Anya assumed he was thinking about her, but Mama always reminded Anya to be humble. So Anya shouldn’t jump to conclusions. Perhaps she had to curb her ego. 

Once recess arrived, Anya hurried over to Damian. Since the novelty had worn off, there were less people around Damian. Besides, Emile and Ewen acted as Damian’s guards and shielded him from people he didn’t want to talk to. When they saw Anya, they smirked and instantly parted. 

“Ooh, bossman’s lady is finally here!”

“Hey, does that mean that runt is our bosswoman?”

To Anya’s surprise, another girl was already at Damian’s table. She was passing a tidy stack of notes to Damian. A frozen Anya stared at the girl’s neat lines of handwriting (which neither Anya nor Damian had). 

“Thanks for your science notes, Giselle.”

“No problem, Damian, I’m glad to be able to help you after you tutored me on history. Get well soon!”

Anya followed Giselle’s graceful figure as she walked away. She could recognise Giselle’s elegant scrawl on Damian’s cast: just a simple “Giselle” in her impeccable cursive, no hearts or anything. Hmph, if Damian was thinking about a girl, it had to be her, right? Giselle was smart, had nice handwriting, and obviously was good at organising notes. Plus, she was gentle and didn’t bother Damian like the other girls. There was a reason why Damian’s two bodyguards let her in. Then a cough broke off her train of thought. 

“Forger. Hi,” Damian said awkwardly as he pushed the stack of notes away. Anya’s eyes lit up. 

“Hi, Sy-on boy,” Anya chirped. “It’s nice to see you after the holidays.” (She wasn’t lying.)

“Nice to see you too.” Damian’s reply would’ve sounded like a polite greeting if it wasn’t for a slight stutter at the end. 

“I hope your arm doesn’t hurt much. Breaking bones can make people quite grumpy and irritable.”

Damian wrinkled his nose. (Heh, cute.) “It’s fine now. It just makes moving a lot harder because I can’t use my dominant hand.”

Ewen and Emile hovered around the two like a pair of cheeky vultures. “Anya! Do you wanna hear how he broke it?” Emile’s tone was almost gleeful. Anya didn’t understand why Damian breaking his arm was a happy thing, but she nodded to answer Emile. 

“He was playing goalkeeper, but got too into it. He jumped to catch the ball with his arms stretched out,” Emile mimicked Damian’s pose, “and then! Crack! He’d fallen to the ground!”

“Thanks for your… retelling.” Damian coughed. “Dammit! Now I look stupid in front of her! What a dumb way to break my arm!”

“Don’t worry, I don’t think you’re stupid. Actually, I think it’s admirable that you’re so passionate about soccer.”

Anya then curiously inspected Damian’s cast. She poked her finger at the hard surface. Damian started to go red because of her close proximity. “I see. Anya’s glad it’s not anything more dangerous like being crushed by a rock or falling off a balcony or having your arm be snapped by an enemy assassin.” (These were all scenarios in which Anya’s parents had broken bones.)

There was a pause. “... I guess that’s from your cartoons?”

“Nah, it’s from personal experience,” Anya replied honestly.

“Ah,” Damian thought. “So she’s learning to be sarcastic.”

“Can I sign your cast?”

Damian smirked and drawled in a mock haughty tone, “Heh, do you think a commoner girl like you deserves to—” Upon seeing Anya’s unimpressed side glare, he hastily said, “Kidding, kidding. Of course you can. But…”

Their gazes trailed down to Damian’s cast. Much of the space was taken up by disproportionately large signatures. Anya supposed it was the girls’ doing because even Ewen and Emile’s signatures looked small in comparison. 

“Ahh, Anya, you were too late!” Ewen cried in a dramatic tone. “You should’ve come earlier to see our boss! He misses you, you know—“

That earned Ewen a sharp jab to the ribs. Ewen shut up, but the gigantic grin on his face remained. Damian’s cheeks reddened. 

“I would’ve come before,” Anya explained, “but he looked annoyed by the crowd and I didn’t want to annoy him further…”

Damian snorted. “Ugh. You annoy me anyways, so you can just annoy me any time.”

Anya didn’t quite understand what Damian just stated, but she supposed he said that she could find him any time, so it was a win for her?

“Hmm.” Perhaps there wasn’t much space left on the cast, but like that was going to stop Anya Forger. She carefully took Damian’s arm and turned it over slightly. There was free space on the underside of his arm. Was it just her imagination, or did his fingers twitch? Concerned, Anya asked, “Sy-on boy, does it hurt?”

“N-no!”

“Don’t lie to Anya! I know you always lie to me.” Anya genuinely didn’t want to hurt Damian. She took a peek into his mind.

“AAAAAAA she’s so close! I can smell her shampoo! Strawberry and mint! AAAAAA my heart’s gonna burst! Wait, she asked me a question… w-what was it? Oh! She’s asking me if it hurts! Well DUH, it doesn’t hurt, but she’s so close…”

Heh. Sy-on boy was panicking like he always did. “Hey, what’s your favourite colour?”

“E-eh?”

Damian’s almond shaped eyes had a slightly dazed look. Apparently he’d gained a couple of new freckles which stood out on his pink cheeks. Anya wondered if he’d gotten enough sleep. Anya frowned at an unresponsive Damian, then booped his nose with a finger. (Ma always did that to wake her up.) If anything, Damian’s brain just seemed to melt even more.

“Oi, Bossman, she just asked you a question!”

“Geez, he’s losing it again.”

Ewen sternly tapped Damian’s head with a book. “Wake up! She asked for your favourite colour!”

Damian jolted like he’d been zapped with electricity. He stared into Anya’s eyes, and instinctively blurted out, “Green!”

“Okie-dokie!” Anya took out a green marker from Damian’s pencil bag (she always used his pens and he let her, but everybody else had to ask). Then, she turned over Damian’s arm and carefully traced the letters of her name on his cast. To minimise his discomfort, Anya twisted her arm so she could write better. “A-N-Y-A. Anya!” And because she thought it would be cute, Anya doodled an extra smiley face next to her name. “And I’m done! Anya’s cheering for you to get better!”

Damian appeared to have regained his senses a little. “Ah, thanks,” he mumbled.

“You know, I wrote it on the inside of your cast so you can look at it!” Anya said brightly. “Like, everyone else writes their names on the outside, but you’ve gotta twist your arm to look at them. And I don’t want you to get hurt again, so I wrote my name in a place that’s comfortable for you! Hehe, Anya’s a genius, right?”

Damian’s eyes trailed down to Anya’s handwriting on his cast. “That’s… considerate of you. I don’t think anyone’s thought of that. Thanks again.”

And thus, Anya had successfully left her handwriting on Damian’s cast. And he literally just told her she was different from the rest of the crowd, which was a nice thing to hear. Anya smirked. Aha! She’d left a mark, even if it was temporary!

But then Anya looked up and glimpsed Damian’s expression. Sure, Damian sometimes blushed in embarrassment, but Anya was the only one who could make his face truly red. She’d never seen him make that flushed face at anybody else. And even though he acted like he was angry, he was surprisingly gentle with her. This, in Anya’s opinion, was the true difference between Damian Desmond and the Sy-on boy she knew. He acted like he was mature and tough, but when he was with her, he was as mushy as the insides of a overcooked red tomato. 

Anya peered up at Damian and took in the pinkness of his cheeks. It was a shade that was uniquely shown to her. 

Maybe I’ve left a permanent mark on him after all...

Chapter Text

To save her grades (and prevent a paranoid Loid from sneaking in the school every time an exam came around), Anya started studying after school. Additionally, it was a good opportunity to get closer to Damian.

While Damian and Anya were friends (sorta), they actually didn’t interact much in class because everybody was always teasing them. The class would gleefully cackle every time they stood next to each other or sing “Damian and Anya sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!”. It infuriated Damian to no end. His face would turn completely red “in anger” (as he claimed) and furiously exclaim there was nothing going on between them. Sometimes, he would even go as far as to insult Anya and call her ugly to “prove” he didn’t like her at all. 

Of course, when these events happened, Becky would immediately leap to Anya’s defence. “Geez, Anya, I can’t believe you fell for such a childish guy!”

Anya understood the childish part, but the rest was confusing to her. “Hmm? Liking Sy-on boy is my downfall??”

So because of the class’ merciless teasing, Damian and Anya stopped talking in public. Damian got immensely defensive every time someone brought up his “crush” on Anya and rattled off twenty insults in a single breath (Anya knew Damian was a liar, even if he was an uncool one, but some of his insults still hurt). In addition, Damian’s cheeks would get all red and puffy, which made Anya want to poke his cheeks. And to Anya’s sheer delight, the height gap between them was slowly narrowing, which meant she could now make her infamous “heh” faces without craning her neck. (“Don’t act so smug, pipsqueak!! I’m gonna be so tall when puberty hits me, just you wait!)

Anya liked making fun of her Sy-on boy. To her, he was just some snot-faced, goofy-looking scion with an evil boss father. The cowlicks that stuck out from his head made him look like a squished tomato. Also, his swamp-coloured hair was gelled on special occasions, which made him look extremely stuffy and stupid. Damian constantly tried to appear tough, but Anya knew the truth. Damian was just a silly child who lost his cool when he was around her. 

But recently, Damian started paying a lot more attention to his studies. Instead of hanging out with his friends during lunch, he chose to read textbooks. Now, he was always interested when the teacher mentioned extra credit. He spent his afternoons in the library instead of his dorm’s common room, so Anya followed him there. 

At first, they didn’t talk. It was as if they were afraid someone was spying on them and would report to the class that they were dating. But conversation was inevitable, and thus Anya inched closer and closer to Damian, their textbooks touching. He let her borrow his pens without asking (not his super expensive pens, obviously), and in return she said he could use her prized Bondman sticky notes that she got for her birthday. He always refused, claiming to be embarrassed, but when Anya wrote down her conjugation tips for Classical Language, he stuck the note on the cover of his textbook without complaining. Then he was upset when the note fell off, so being the kind friend that Anya was, she wrote him another one. This time, he stuck it to the inside of his book cover so it would be safe. 

One afternoon, the two were studying in their corner when thunder rumbled outside. Anya glanced out of the window.

“Ah, the sky is so dark.”

“Yep, it looks like it’s nighttime already…”

It had been raining heavily for the entire day. Instead of relying on the afternoon sunlight like always, they had to make deal with the library’s dim lights. Anya glanced at Damian. The dark shadows seemed to make his face sharper, his eyes more serious. 

“When are you going to take the bus back?”

“In, uhh… fifteen minutes? But the schedule’s always off when it rains, so I dunno.”

There was a slight pause. Anya was doodling on her notes with Damian’s special green pen. Damian carried that pen around but he never used it for some odd reason. (He always let her use it though.)

“You have an umbrella, right?”

“Of course! Anya’s smart and well-prepared! (Ma just stuffs it in my bag when it’s gonna rain, but I’m pretending I remembered.)”

“Then…” Damian’s eyes shifted to the side, and he uttered in that special tone he reserved for her, 

“Want me to walk you back?”

Anya blinked. Didn’t Damian hate it when they were seen together in public? “Eh,” she replied stupidly, and Damian grew flustered. 

“B-because it’s dark! And it might be dangerous for a girl to walk alone…”

Anya had several replies to that. Firstly, Eden’s security was annoyingly good (the “annoying” part was due to how much trouble Loid had to go through to sneak in). Secondly, as an esper and the daughter of a spy and an assassin, Anya could defend herself pretty well. (And she could defend Damian too if there was a need for it.) But all of these excuses somehow melted away, and Anya found herself saying, “Okay.”

(If she read Damian’s mind, she would realize he, too, was searching for an excuse.)

The way back was quiet and awkward. Rain listlessly pattered on their umbrellas. Anya wanted to start a conversation, but the words never left her mouth. They wrestled with the silence for a while, then gave up, deciding to be content with it.

A flash of lightning illuminated the sky, causing both of them to jolt. Abruptly, Anya had a feeling of déjà vu, and in a split second she thought she recalled the musty smell of a damp cave, the sensation of wet fabric clinging onto her skin, and a small, warm hand in hers. It seemed like a distant memory from another timeline, or perhaps it was just a dream. Either way, Anya’s heart fluttered slightly, then-

“Oy, look out.”

Anya felt a sharp tug on her uniform as Damian dragged her away from a puddle. She waited for his obligatory insults (“Geez, you’re so clumsy!” “Ugh, how have you survived for this long?”), but they never came. Anya stared at the hand that had grabbed her, a few wet spots on the black sleeve. The silence that hung between them seemed extra loud now. 

“Thanks,” Anya eventually ended up saying. She was so absorbed in thinking that it came out a few seconds late, but Damian didn’t seem to care. Before either of them could say a word, the familiar bus stop appeared in front of them. They had arrived. 

For some reason, neither Anya nor Damian could bear to look at the other. It wasn’t like they were uncomfortable with each other- quite the contrary, in fact. They were comfortable even when neither of them spoke, and they felt oddly vulnerable. 

“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, Sy-on boy.”

Damian cleared his throat. “See you tomorrow.”

… Was it just her imagination, or did his voice sound deeper than what she was used to?

Under the shelter of the bus stop, Anya’s gaze lingered on Damian as he walked away. With his plain green umbrella that looked too big for him, he seemed so… lonely in the rain. Sure, he wanted to send her off, but now he had to return to Eden alone. 

Was that why he wanted to walk with her? Because he thought she might be lonely on the way back?

… Huh. It was surprisingly mature of him.

It continued to rain the day after. Anya sat in the library and scribbled notes to the whistling of the wind until Damian offered to walk her back again.

It was nice for Damian to take the initiative. Years of Plan B made Anya appreciate it when her attempts weren’t one-sided.

This time, they were both determined to make small talk. They exchanged comments on their latest biology test and complained about how Henderson found their handwriting illegible. Then Damian began to tell a story of how the door of his dorm’s washroom broke last night and caused quite the pandemonium. “Thankfully it wasn’t in the morning. We would all be late to school since no one could use the washroom.” 

Anya nodded, sympathetic. “You’re lucky that no one was locked in.”

Damian shuddered. “I don’t want to imagine spending three hours in there. But yeah. Actually, I learned that the door was broken fifteen minutes after I took my shower. Good thing I wasn’t stuck there.”

For some reason, Anya never really thought of Damian doing normal household stuff like showering or sleeping. For so many years, Damian was just a boy that she saw at school. Now Anya realized that Damian had a life outside of being her friend and classmate. He existed outside her sphere. Perhaps it was stupid of her, but she hadn’t been to Damian’s dorm before, so it was a little tough picturing his boarding school life. Perhaps it was like the orphanage, but way better. 

Was Damian’s room messy like hers? Did he also have Spy Wars posters all over the walls? Did he sneak snacks into his room? Did he keep the silly knick knacks she’d given him over the years?

“It must be exciting to live with your friends together,” Anya wondered out loud.

“It is!” And then Damian’s voice cracked at the last word. He instantly shut up, his face red from mortification. Anya couldn’t help but snigger and his cheeks reddened more. 

“S-shut up! It’s not like I can help it! Boys’ voices change when they grow older, you know?”

“Duh, of course I know. But it’s still funny. Like, not in a mean way.”

The wind whistled and droplets of rain fell on Anya’s cheeks. She turned to look at Damian, who was now wiping rain off his (still red) face. Ah, now she had to crane her neck to look at him. Just like how it used to be. 

“You feel older, Sy-on boy.”

“E-eh? Is it because I’m taller now?”

“Yep, but also… you look more serious. Like some moody Bondman villain with a black coat and a smoking gun.”

Damian frowned. (He frowned more these days.) “I mean… I’m thirteen. My brother was already an Imperial Scholar at my age, and I still only have seven stars. I can’t afford to frolick.”

“Heh, Sy-on boy is a hard worker.”

“You should work hard too, Anya.”

Damian had used Anya’s real name, not “runt” or “pipsqueak” or even “Forger”. It felt nice. Hearing her name in his voice felt nice. 

Damian seemed to be going through a lot of changes lately, both physical and mental changes. It was at times like these when Anya was reminded she was indeed younger than her peers. She couldn’t quite understand their struggles yet, and it felt like she was on a never-ending path to catch up with them. And although Damian acted like an impulsive child around Anya, Anya could tell he was forced to mature quickly due to his background. 

Their umbrellas kept on bumping into each other. When Damian was ahead, she absentmindedly stared at his wet shoes. (It took her a while to realize he was waiting for her to catch up.) Damian still dragged Anya away when she was about to step into a puddle. He gave her a small wave when he dropped her off at the bus stop. She smiled at him, and he smiled back.

Anya decided she liked their rainy day walks. She hoped he did as well.

Apparently someone caught them leaving the library together after school, but Damian cut off the rumours before they could sprout. “I’m just sending her off,” he insisted. “We’re- we’re just friends.”

(It was an excuse.)

“Sy-on boy is just worried for me because it’s raining,” was Anya’s response.

(It wasn’t a lie, but it was an excuse.)

Although the rain caused a mess and drenched their clothes, they couldn’t help but look forward to it. The day after that, the sky remained a dull grey for the whole afternoon, the clouds heavy and low. It felt like it was about to rain but it never did. Anya was a bit fidgety. But finally, raindrops splattered on the library’s glass windows. The familiar sound of rain soothed her and she exhaled.

(Anya never thought she would look forward to rain.)

Almost immediately, Damian stood up like the rain was his cue. 

“I’ll walk you back.”

“Mm.”

Gradually, their footsteps fell into sync. They talked about all sorts of random topics and Anya managed to make Damian laugh at her jokes. The rain was lighter today. Their umbrellas bumped against each other continuously. One time, Anya walked too close to Damian, so her umbrella tipped and rain slid onto him. 

“Ack!”

“Ah! I’m sorry!”

There was now a big wet spot on Damian’s uniform. Anya stared at it for a few seconds, then felt like she couldn’t bear to, and hurriedly looked away. 

The path to the bus stop had never felt so short. Yet, in the haze of the rain, with the quiet pitter-patter on their umbrellas, they could almost believe it was eternity. 

The weather was terrible the next day and Anya wondered if she’d jinxed it. “It’s a storm,” Becky had whispered. “It brings bad luck.” The wind howled and screeched. Rain was violently thrown against windows, which sounded like pebbles crashing against each other. The library was extra dark as Damian and Anya worked, their elbows occasionally bumping into each other. 

“... When are you gonna go back today?”

“Maybe I’ll wait for it to die down.” 

But the rain did not die down, and the sky progressively became darker and darker. Anya tapped her pen anxiously. The peals of thunder made her gulp and bite her lip. Shadows settled over her and Damian, his hair now seeming midnight black instead of its usual murky swamp colour. 

“I think the rain’s just gonna get worse with time. Maybe you should go now.”

“Yeah.” Anya began to pack her things. She gave Damian back his pen, their fingers brushing. “The storm’s really bad today so you don’t have to walk me back, Sy-on boy.”

“But I want to,” Damian said, his tone half-stubborn, half-kind. It was like he was stuck between being a gracious gentleman and a whiny child. Strangely enough, the juxtaposition worked well for a person like Damian. 

It was a battle to get to the bus stop. They hadn’t even taken five steps but they were already completely soaked. They walked furiously yet carefully, their wet socks making faint squelching sounds. 

Then there was an extra powerful gust of wind, and Anya’s umbrella flipped inside out. She gasped and tried to fix it, but the wind was too much.

“Anya!” Damian yelled. “The umbrella’s broken! Look, it’s bent!”

Damian was correct. Anya, now exposed to the elements without a functioning umbrella, tried desperately to close her umbrella. With a bit of fumbling, she managed to do so, but-

Damian dragged her under his umbrella, warm fingers clenched around the wet fabric. Her head accidentally bumped into his shoulder. “Don’t just stand there!” he scolded. “I-”

Then they realized how close they were to each other. Anya shivered in the rain. Her bangs were plastered across her wet forehead in weird ways, some of it over her eyes. Damian hesitated, then stretched out a hand to fix her bangs. It was curt, like a quick brushstroke on a canvas. Anya blinked up at Damian. Damian turned pink. 

“W-well, we have no choice but to share an umbrella. Let’s go.”

Anya was unused to standing so close to Damian. They had consciously kept their distance after everybody started making fun of them. Hence, she strayed, and the umbrella wasn’t big enough to cover both of them. Damian was annoyed.

“Oy, I don’t bite. You can come closer.”

“... Fine.”

Anya moved on instinct. She tucked her arm in his, bringing them closer than ever. The contact flustered both of them. Damian was warm even under the layers of wet clothes. Their movements a bit mismatched, they hurried to the bus stop. 

Was Damian always this tall and lanky? His limbs seemed to go on and on. Maybe he was awkward and unused to his body because he kept bumping into her. He walked slower so she could keep up. Curse his long legs, which were so unlike her stubby ones. 

It was both a relief and a disappointment when the bus stop came into view. Anya detached herself from Damian and felt the loss of his body warmth. Funny, was she holding her breath the entire time? It was too much, yet too little at the same time.  

“Are you going to be alright from here?”

“Yup, the bus drops me off fairly close to my house.”

Rain was dripping off Damian’s umbrella. His cheeks had a bit more colour than usual. Anya remembered that Damian had to go back alone in the storm and felt guilty, but reminded herself that he had volunteered. 

“Stay safe out there, Sy-on boy. Also, you’ve grown taller now, so I hope lightning doesn’t hit you.”

Damian snorted at Anya’s ridiculous but endearing concern. “Don’t worry about me.”

“Also, thanks for walking me back.” Anya beamed at Damian. 

Thanks for letting me spend time with you. Thanks for not letting us drift away. 

A gust of wind blew past them. Damian cleared his throat awkwardly. “Well, I guess I’ll be going.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow.”

Anya had worded it like a question. Damian had only started walking her to the bus stop because it was raining. Surely it wasn’t a habit that would stick around, right? 

When the storm was over, they would go back to how they used to be. They would avoid each other in class, quietly study in the library, and then she would walk to the bus stop. Alone. 

This storm was annoying and no doubt caused problems for a lot of people, but Anya selfishly wished it could last for just a bit longer. She recalled how Damian had pulled her close, how her arm felt like when it was tucked into his, and how she’d made Damian blush. On the bus, Anya watched raindrops race down the window, an odd little leap in her heart.

So when bright sunshine shone through the clouds next morning, Anya’s mood dampened. Everyone else was joyous when the sun finally appeared after days of rain, but Anya could only think about how their feeble excuse to walk together was gone. The sun’s strong rays evaporated the puddles on the streets and soon all traces of the storm were erased. 

The sun was usually a symbol for hope and new beginnings. But to Anya, she couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed. Oh, well. It wasn’t like she could control the weather. 

Anya and Damian resumed their usual session in the library. The glossy pages of their textbooks glinted in the sun. Anya was distracted and took too long to fill in her multiple choice answers with her graphite pencil. Damian frowned and glared at his homework like the answers would magically appear.

It was far too sunny. There was not a single cloud in the cornflower blue sky. The weather was too nice. 

The hours went by, and it was time for Anya to leave. Both of them were awkwardly fidgeting in their seats yet pretending they weren’t bothered at all. 

But it wasn’t like anything bad had happened to them. Anya would just go home on her own like she’d been doing for the past seven years. It was normal. They should be content with normality. 

Yet.

Anya put down her book.

“Sy-on boy, do you wanna walk me back?”

Damian instantly looked up, his eyes alight. Anya was surprised by her own boldness, but she was more surprised when he instantly replied, “Sure.”

(Like he’d been anxiously waiting for her to ask all this time.)

They didn’t have an excuse. Both of them knew that, yet they didn’t try to find one. They didn’t need an excuse to walk together, because they just… wanted to. 

They chatted like they did during the rain, but without the umbrellas between them, they could now walk closer. The sun’s rays were warm on their skin and both of them were conscious of it. The conversation flowed like a bubbling stream and the bus stop appeared too soon. Their footsteps slowed. Anya parted her lips.

“Thanks for walking me back, Sy-on boy.”

“No problem.”

Anya liked seeing Damian’s eyes in the sunlight because they reminded her of hot chocolate. Usually, his eyes had a sullen grey tinge to them, but the colour changed in the light. Then she realized she was staring at her Sy-on boy, and quickly looked away. 

But Sy-on boy couldn’t be called a boy now, right? Damian was thirteen and he’d shot up in height, his ankles exposed under the gold hem of his pants. He wasn’t that stupid kid when they were young. He didn’t tease or mock her as much, and he was always eager to help when she asked. He was a teenager now and carried himself like one.

And Anya watched Damian’s retreating backside, a haze of golden sunlight over the lines that made up his figure, which was now more sharp and definite. The baby fat on his cheeks was slowly fading. Without the umbrella over him, he suddenly seemed way taller and older. 

The twelve-year-old girl, neither a child nor a teenager, paddling in the gentle confusion of the in-between, felt an odd lump in her heart.  

Oh.

Damian was growing up.  

Chapter Text

Ever since he was very young, Damian knew what was expected of him. 

He was the second son of the prestigious Desmond family and his father was incredibly powerful. Everybody wanted to befriend him (or more accurately, his father), but the Desmonds were the cream of the crop, so Damian knew he couldn’t let everybody in.

It was obvious. Other than Ewen and Emile whom he’d known since preschool, pretty much all of his Eden classmates wanted to be friends with him because of his last name. Damian repeated it to himself. Damian Desmond. Damian Desmond. He liked the way it sounded. It felt heavy on his lips. 

And Damian knew it was expected of him. He was expected to be a grown up; grown ups were cool and mature, grown ups didn’t make mistakes, and grown ups ate their green peppers without complaint (Damian had barfed the one time he tried a green pepper. Incredibly mortifying.). 

The quality of his classmates was also… questionable. They had the audacity to question the school’s Stellar Star system when Anya got her first Stellar, which was completely ridiculous. Did they even deserve to be in Eden Academy when they clearly didn’t respect its nobel traditions? Sure, Damian was angry, but he was angry at himself that Anya had somehow legitimately snatched up a Stellar before he did. His anger was justified. Theirs was not. He was different from them. The end. 

And they all flocked around him like birds, each one echoing the sweet words of the last. Damian usually liked attention, but this was irritating. And it was especially bothersome when Damian knew his father didn’t care about him at all, yet all his classmates cared about was his father. 

It would be nice if Father could visit him after that Imperial Scholar’s mixer. That was the adjective Damian allowed himself to use. “Nice”, in the same way it was nice when the tutors got them ice cream, or nice in the same way when Anya smiled. It was nice in a way that wasn't necessary. Damian didn’t need Father to see him, or to acknowledge him. No. He didn’t need them. They weren’t there at his opening ceremony anyway, and it was pretty sweet that nobody called him out for stuffing his hands in his pockets. Aha, take that, fussy adults! 

(It was a mistake to be needy. To ask for more than what he deserved. Damian had to work hard, and then work harder. Beggars couldn’t be choosers.)

“I’ll tell him,” Demetrius’ voice came through the telephone, his cool voice a juxtaposition with the warm tones of Damian’s common room. “But don’t get your hopes up. He’s a busy man.”

See? Even Demetrius was warning Damian. Don’t make the same mistake again. Don’t expect him to come. The less you think about it, the less disappointed you would be.

It was on Damian’s mind for the entire school day. To add salt to- it wasn’t his wound, because that would mean Damian was hurt by stupid things like his father’s absence, and he was not a crybaby. Anyways, it was bothersome when Damian’s classmates crowded around him with smiles plastered on their faces. Anya’s silly “heh” smiles made his heart itchy, but these fake smiles made his heart drop.

“Hey, can I say hi to your dad? My daddy is coming to pick me up today, and he wants to say hi too! Do you mind?”

“Whaat? No fair! Hey, Damian, I want to meet your-”

“LEAVE ME ALONE!”

It wasn’t a sob, because that would mean Damian was hurt. No, it was just a yell, which meant he was angry instead of sad. He glared at those tactless girls and stomped away. They were too taken aback to speak, their faces pale. Despite the whirlwind of emotions, Damian felt a hot spike of satisfaction. Good. They were scared off. They wouldn’t bother him anytime soon.

Ewen and Emilie quickly followed him ‘cause they were supposed to. Damian liked his two friends. Because, for once in his life, he was the most important person in a group. They guarded him, so Damian did the same. Friends didn’t make each other feel left out. Friends didn’t use each other for something else.

But as Damian grumpily marched away, he could sense… something darting behind the pillars. More like someone, or to be accurate, the bane of his existence.

Anya Forger.

Geez, hadn’t that weirdo seen him yell at those girls? Shouldn’t she be scared off as well? What was she doing here?!

Damian scowled, then jabbed a finger right at Anya. “You’ve been acting weird since last week!” he shrieked. “Get away from me! You’re totally creeping me out!!”

Then Ewen cleared his throat. “Boss man, could it be that the reason she’s chasing you…”

Damian gulped, an odd sort of relief and anticipation running across his heart like a cool stream of water. It soothed the burning anger from earlier. His stomach twisted, and while the feeling wasn’t nice, it wasn’t bad either. Anya Forger was chasing him? D-did she perhaps… take an interest in him? Damian’s heart thumped and a blush rose on his cheeks. “Huh? What is it?”

“She may be following you in an attempt to curry favour with your father.”

Damian gasped, horror and mortification flooding his face.

“Yeah!” Emile jeered. “She’s the same as all the others!”

Of COURSE! Forger is just the same as everyone else! I was so STUPID to think otherwise!! With no other way to take out his anger, Damian directed it at Anya (as usual). “YOU STUPID COW!” Damian screeched. He threw out mindless, generic insults because his brain had stopped working. “Grow some legs, RUNT!”

Anya didn’t move. She just stared at him, shocked. Her presence was making him twitchy so he hurriedly made an escape (again). “You’re a creeper stalker freak!” Damian wailed. “Keep away from me!”

(He almost meant it.)

But Damian learned something important from Emile and Ewen that day. Anya was the same as the rest of them. She only wanted to be friends with him because of his father. 

And that was it.

Never mind the dodgeballs or silly paper griffins or whatever. Anya’s motive was clear. And now Damian knew of it. 

And since Damian could read her mind so well, he was supposed to avoid her, right? Avoid her like how he avoided everybody else. Damian didn’t want to be taken advantage of. He wanted people to actually like him for who he was. He wanted people to know him as Damian, not Damian Desmond.

(Anya’s aggravating “Sy-on boy” nickname rang in his ears. Perhaps it wasn’t so aggravating after all.)

Trying to entertain Anya Forger was clearly a mistake. She was strange, oddly perceptive, had no sense of personal space, and made his heart itchy. And thus Damian learned to run away when he saw her. Later, he even fought back with his insults. If Anya wanted to chase him, he would chase her away.

The one day, Anya inexplicably got it in her mind that Damian was supposed to bring her cake as a gift. Which was laughable considering she’d just spilled noodles all over him. What a pathetic, silly girl.

And so they were arguing in the corridors again. Anya was insistent, and Damian was frowning. Could she be trying to get something outta me in exchange for that handkerchief thing? I did promise to pay her back, but is that really all she wants? Cake…?

It was curious. Damian’s family was perfectly capable of much more. Was Anya too much of an idiot to realise that? After all, their other classmates were aware of his father’s power.

At least she isn’t demanding an introduction to my dad, or asking that he give her parents jobs or something.

At least Anya wasn’t like the others. She cared about cake, not his father. That was a refreshing change.

Then Anya gave a self-satisfied smirk, and Damian felt a sense of foreboding. (She always made him feel that way.)

“Hmm, on second thought, never mind about the cake. I’m starting to feel like I’d rather go to your house instead.”

“WHAT?!” Damian hollered at a blithely smiling Anya.

Oh. 

Of course.

Anya was like the rest. She was now smart enough to ask for something far more useful than cake.

Huh.

When Damian was speechless, his friends immediately defended him. Even Becky was disapproving of Anya’s boldness. But out of the blue, Anya dropped a bombshell.

“As a matter of fact, my mom has already become friends with Sy-on boy’s mom!”

And that flustered Damian to no end. He immediately lost the cool composure he put on for everyone else (ugh, Anya was always able to break down his walls). His hands shook and he pointed a finger at Anya’s forehead. “W-w-what did you hear about me?” Damian demanded, his voice an uncharacteristic tremor. “She didn’t say anything, right?! Be honest!”

His mother? Anya knew his own mother?! That was so embarrassing! Damian had so much that he hid from even Emile and Ewen. He gulped, face already red. His anxiety was skyrocketing. If she’s learned any of my dark preschool-era secrets, I’m done for! Anya was hesitating, so Damian snarled, “C’mon, spill it!”

Anya gave him a calm smile. It wasn’t cheeky or judgemental at all, and the smile was genuine which put him off. “Relax. She didn’t say much about you.”

Ah.

Damian’s anxiety instantly cooled like he was plunged into a lukewarm lake. The blush from his cheeks melted away like it was never there in the first place.

Right. Why was he so worked up in the first place? His mother couldn’t spill his dark preschool-era secrets if she didn’t know said dark preschool-era secrets. And even if she spoke of him, it wasn’t like she would brag about him because he wasn’t worthy. There was nothing to talk about. Again, what had he expected?

Damian wasn’t upset. He couldn’t be upset because he knew it all along. Damian wouldn’t make the foolish mistake of being an optimist. 

(Years ago, a pathetic boy sniffed as he held his plushie and cried himself to sleep.)

(Months ago, a lonely boy stood on the stairs to have that group photo taken, his cheek swollen and his eyes dry.)

(Weeks ago, a small boy stood next to Pops, his eyes lighting up when he realised his father did care about him after all.)

“Yeah, just as I thought.” Damian’s tone sounded unrecognisable even to himself. He turned away to hide his face, because no way in hell was he letting her read his emotions. “Hmph!”

And like everybody else, Anya tried to win him over. Merely walking away wasn’t enough to dissuade this crazy girl. 

“Wait, you have to invite me over!” Anya cried out. “I bet your mom would tell you to do it!”

His mom? When did he know anything about his mom?

So Damian knew he had to bring out the guns. Threaten her with his angry voice so she would be scared like everybody else. Say something so terrible that she would hate him for the rest of his life. 

“Tch! Your family’s no different from the rest!” Damian spat out, the words bitter and cold.

(He thought of Pops defending him, his eyes gentle and apologetic. He thought of Anya with her handkerchief, Anya with her paper griffin, Anya and the way she truly looked at him. Nobody had ever looked at him like that.)

Ewen had always been right. Anya was the same as the rest. But Damian was idiotic enough to make the same mistake of ignoring it over and over again. 

Damian icily glared at Anya, and continued, “Just more worthless flies buzzing around the Desmond name.”

That should do it. Anya was so mad when Damian insulted her dad that she punched him, so Anya would be mad that he insulted her family. She would learn to back off. She would feel insulted. And she would finally leave! Good riddance.

Because that was what everybody else did. Nobody in their right mind would want to be insulted by the great and mighty Desmonds. People trod carefully around him. Anya Forger would go home and reflect on her insensitive behaviour. Everybody knew when Damian was mad, he really was mad. They wouldn’t want to annoy him further.

Anya was like everybody else. Or was she?

“WE ARE NOT!!” Anya screamed at Damian. Her voice caused him to turn his head. “My family’s serious about this!”

The flames in Damian’s heart roared, but it was the familiar sort of anger that came with bickering with Anya. It was exhilarating and almost comforting. “Serious about what, exactly?!” Damian retorted.

And so they argued again, insults gushing out like a stream, and it was so natural. It was natural for Anya to argue against him. Anya wouldn’t be scared of him, she wouldn’t shut up and run away like the rest, and she actually dared to go against him. Anya saw him as her annoying Sy-on boy, not some guy from the Desmond family who wasn’t worth angering. Anya would pick a fight. Nobody else did. 

Why was Anya so insistent anyway? He’d been downright awful to her at times, they bickered every single day, and if she was anybody else, she would’ve taken the hint that he didn’t like her. But yet Anya relentlessly continued. She attacked him with smiles and weird moves and strange demands. Yes, she wanted to see his dad, but she was so extraordinarily determined about it.

Perhaps Damian should be more ruthless. Cut her off for once and for all in the same way he cut off the useless kids clamouring for his attention. But no, he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. 

Because Anya actually saw him. She knew him for who he was, flaws and imperfections and whatnot. She actually looked at him on the first day of school, way before the punch, way before he looked back. She’d fallen for him at the first glance. For the first time in his life, somebody cared when they weren’t supposed to.

But Damian could feel it too. Even though Anya was… unique, she had to have an ulterior motive. Anya liked Becky way better, yet Anya never harassed Becky about visiting her house. She only asked Damian, because he was a Desmond, and he happened to have Donovan Desmond as a father. It was painfully obvious. 

Deep down, underneath the taunts and weird smirks and Anya’s way of worming into his mind, she was just the same as everybody else. He was just somebody to be used, somebody who was never anybody’s first priority. Friendship with Anya? Hah, what a joke. And Damian knew Anya was getting close to him because she wanted to meet his father. Ewen had straight up warned him multiple times.

Yet, why did Damian look back?

Why did he respond whenever Anya talked to him? Why did his eyes automatically land on her every time she walked past? Why did he revert back to his immature preschool stage whenever she started a fight? Why, why, why?

It was a mistake to expect for something more. It was a mistake to entertain Anya again and again.

But Damian couldn’t help it. He was drawn to Anya like a moth to a flame, and he knew he was dying by her hand, but he continued to do it. Because it was Anya Forger, as simple as that. That statement seemed to solve half of his unexplainable problems. 

Anya was visibly annoyed with him, yet she continued to bombard him with friendship requests. Clearly, something was making her do that- most likely pressure from her family. Damian almost felt bad for her. 

One day, Damian knew he would give in. He would pretend Anya actually wanted to be his friend, and he would let her in, and she would know all about how terrible green peppers were and how he wet his bed and how he kept action figures next to his bed. And Anya would smile and pretend to be entertained when they both knew she was there for his father. And Damian would let Anya bandage his knee when he got hurt in soccer and he would yank her back when she was about to smack into a wall. They could be friends, his heart would race, and he would be happy. 

And it would be a mistake.

Because nobody wanted to get close to Damian without wanting something from him.

(Ewen and Emile were the same. They wanted protection from a powerful family and companionship. Damian gave them that, and thus they were loyal to him. Cause and effect. Damian had to work to earn his little prizes.)

Damian didn’t like making mistakes, because only kids made mistakes, and Damian didn’t like being a kid. He, however, had a favourite mistake- Anya Forger. 

If keeping Anya Forger around was a mistake, it was one he would willingly make over and over again.

They were still yelling at each other in the corridor. Anya’s green eyes were narrowed, clearly showing her distaste, and Damian glowered back. Somehow she ended up tugging on his uniform. The school bell rang, bringing both of them back to their senses. 

She let go.

And when Damian angrily marched his way to the classroom, he wasn’t upset. He didn’t care, because his parents never did. He wasn’t upset at all.

(Behind him, Becky ushered Anya along. She turned to catch one last glimpse of her Sy-on boy- but he was already gone.)

Chapter Text

It was a cool autumn’s day at Eden Academy. The red of the leaves stood out against the cloudless blue sky, and underneath the trees, two Imperial Scholars were walking leisurely. Sixteen-year-old Damian pressed against fifteen-year-old Anya Forger, their fingers lightly intertwined. It was the most they could do before they would be reprimanded for “indecent conduct”. Damian’s red wool scarf was snugly wrapped around Anya’s neck, the red matching the flush on Damian’s cheeks.

“Hey, Anya.”

“Hmm?”

Damian leaned in closer, and Anya could see the white flash of his teeth when he grinned. “Your lips are chapped.”

“Heh.” Anya averted her eyes. “What are you looking at, Sy-on boy?”

Damian lowered his voice so only the two of them could hear. “Well, I am your boyfriend after all.”

My fake boyfriend, Anya privately added in her mind, but didn’t feel the need to say it out loud. 

Ugh. Damian was always like that. They’d agreed to fake-date; him so he could rebel against his stuffy family, her so she could bring Loid to the Desmond household. WISE was pretty sure Donovan Desmond wasn’t a war criminal, but he was still involved in war efforts, willingly or not, and any information from him would be incredibly useful. Operation Strix had dragged on for far too long. Damian knew about Strix, he knew about Anya’s parents. The only thing she hadn’t told him was that she could read minds. Anya hadn’t been ready for that conversation and now she was even less ready because she could see through Damian like glass.

Over the years, Anya and Damian had evolved from rivals and frenemies to genuine friends. He still slipped into his tsundere tendencies but Anya was long used to his teasing. No, the problem wasn’t Damian being mean to her.

The problem was that he was treating this spectacle like it was real. 

Obviously Anya understood putting up a performance in front of everyone else. It had taken special effort to convince her own parents because Anya knew Loid would be furious if he knew the truth. Donovan was wary, thus the couple had to proclaim their love for each other again and again. And of course, they had to keep it up at school because word spread fast. Becky was practically shedding tears every day at how “beautiful” and “romantic” they were. Damian and Anya were seen as an iconic couple at Eden Academy, the prince and his court jester, the sunshine girl and her fool. They held hands, they danced, and they even kissed. Anya was fine with an audience (as contradictory as it sounded since Eden couples usually had to hide their affections), but Damian continued to act like they were a couple in private. 

To everyone, he introduced Anya as his “girlfriend”. Not as his friend, or his classmate, or a fellow Imperial Scholar, but his lover. It was fine, but Anya couldn’t help but get tired of it after a while. Especially Damian was so proud of it, like he’d actually won her heart and they were truly dating. 

Contrary to what most people thought, Anya wasn’t stupid. Maybe a few years ago, she didn’t understand romance, but now she knew Damian had feelings for her. His gigantic crush was painfully obvious. She’d expected it to fade with time because why would teenage Damian still be affected by puppy love?

Unfortunately, Damian Desmond was terrible at moving on. Which meant: he’d liked her for ten years. Almost two-thirds of his life. 

For ten years, Anya was his love interest. She was his love interest long before they became proper friends. 

Their families thought they were childhood friends who grew up to become a cute couple. The school thought they were star-crossed lovers, the rich heir and the commoner girl, forever doomed by fate. 

But no, they were just two teens thinking they could save the world if they pretended to date. Key word: pretended. They were partners in crime. And more importantly, they were just friends.

So Anya was a little annoyed by how easily Damian called her his girlfriend. Of course, Anya wouldn’t deny she was dating Damian, but she didn’t feel the need to tell everyone at every opportunity (even if it was for the mission). 

She and Damian, they were so many things. Childhood friends. Academic rivals. Study buddies. Fellow nerds who enjoyed comics and cartoons. Dance partners. Kids with abandonment issues. Kids who just wanted to be loved by their families. Highly stressed teenagers bearing the burdens of adults. Kindred spirits. And of course, they were friends.

But not lovers.

Anything but lovers.

Except Damian never called it what it was. Anya made it explicitly clear she didn’t like him that way, but he was still lost in his fantasies. Damian was very dear to her, but not like that. 

Anya did talk to Damian about it and he was understanding. He was flustered and apologized for getting carried away. Maybe he believed if they faked it for long enough, she would eventually like him back and they could be together for real. But romance was irrational, romance was incomprehensible, and Anya simply saw him as a friend. She’d never felt uncomfortable when they hugged, held hands, or even kissed, but she also didn’t feel the spark Becky was always going on about. Her stomach didn’t flutter. Her heart never stuttered. What Anya saw between her loving parents— she never felt that for Damian. 

But sometimes it was too much. Damian’s earnest sincerity, the intense look in his sharp eyes, that secret smile he only wore when he was around her. He was so vulnerable with her when he was guarded around everybody else. It was too much, too much adoration pouring from him, too much adoration that she couldn’t give back, and so she had to turn away.

In Damian’s defence, he did try to tone it down. Whenever they were alone, he stepped away from her and stopped his flirting. But Anya didn’t need to read his mind to know that was just a poorly concealed act. Damian could be cold and distant, but he wore his heart on his sleeve around her. He was happy to be friends with her, that was for sure, but she knew he wanted more. (He’d always had.)

You always see me as someone you want, Anya thought to herself, an odd sinking feeling in her heart. Someone to win over. Like I’m a precious jewel. Or a distant star you’ve always wanted to catch. But did you ever see me as a friend? Did you ever see me without the romantic lens?

It wasn’t just that she couldn’t reciprocate. Damian knew she had to move away when Strix was done, so why was he trying so hard for something (someone) that would only leave him, even in the best case scenario? Damian was such a fool when it concerned her. Even if she did end up liking him back, even if they dated for real, she would have to leave him. Damian was a helpless moth drawn to a flame. This relationship (if they could call it one) wouldn’t last, so why did he dare to hope? 

Becky had been absolutely ecstatic when Anya told her she was dating Damian. “Finally!” Becky had cried out, her eyes shimmering. “He’s been in love ever since he met you. I’m so happy my ship is sailing, squee!”

Anya did her best to mirror Becky’s smile. “Yeah, we’re finally together! It’s so exciting!”

“But—“ Becky reached over to tightly grab Anya’s shoulders, her eyes uncharacteristically serious, “—take good care of Damian, please? Ewen and Emile and I all agree we’ve never seen him so affected by anyone that isn’t you. He loves you. Please don’t hurt him.”

“I—” Anya didn’t know how to reply to that. She and Damian weren’t really dating. Anya told Damian it was just for show and she didn’t have romantic feelings for him, so if Damian got hurt, he knew from the very beginning. 

Then Becky beamed and ruffled Anya’s hair. “Aww, Anya, don’t worry! You’re the kindest soul I know. You won’t do anything to Damian, I know it.”

Ah. Becky’s faith in Anya was ironic. Considering all the issues Damian had, it was a miracle that he didn’t lash out when Anya told him about Operation Strix. Anya had a second motive for befriending Damian, just like the bootlickers that he oh-so-despised. Not to mention she’d lied about her entire life. How much of Anya did Damian know? How much would she reveal to him, and how many secrets would she take to her grave?

… In the end, he didn’t know her.

Being adopted. Her powers. The orphanage. He only knew the happy side of her life. And with that white lie, he’d foolishly chased after her for a decade.

Please don’t fall in love with me, Damian.

Damian’s hand tentatively reached for hers. She didn’t drop it.

Please don’t stay in love with me, Damian.

Perhaps Anya didn’t understand it as a child, but she instinctively looked out for Damian because deep inside, they were similar people. In her blurry memories, she remembered his warm hand in hers, side by side in that cave during that rainy day. He was terrified of the thunder, and so was she, but he hid his fear to protect her. And when he paled at the thought of disappointing his father, Anya sympathised with him, since she was also scared Loid might abandon her after Strix. They both wanted to become Imperial Scholars for their fathers, they both had abandonment issues, and they both had to mature too quickly. And even though Damian acted annoyed by her, he related to her desperation to get better grades. So when she asked for help with schoolwork, he would grumble for a bit, but he was always patient with her. Even when Anya made the most careless of mistakes or didn’t understand the simplest of concepts. 

And they continued to stick with each other over the years. He took care of her, and she took care of him. When Anya had to stay at school over the holidays, it was Damian who made sure she wasn’t lonely. When his parents didn’t come to his Imperial Scholar’s ceremony, she stayed with him till midnight. I won’t let you go off on your own. I won’t abandon you. It was their instinct to understand, two kids quietly licking each other’s wounds. Damian didn’t like being vulnerable, but he let Anya through his walls. And Anya always appreciated Damian’s help. They were twin flames, burning together throughout the dark night. 

She was nine and he was ten, and they stood under an umbrella that was too big for them. Damian insisted he would stay until her school bus came. Fat raindrops drenched their uniforms and streaked down Anya’s cheeks, and he raised a handkerchief to wipe them away. 

She was ten and he was eleven, and she noticed he was upset during Eden’s annual Christmas bonfire. His excellent exam results had barely been acknowledged since he was overshadowed by Demetrius’ recent work promotion. She hugged him and he let her. They didn’t need a bonfire to keep warm. 

She was eleven and he was twelve, and when a boy started jeering and calling her names, Damian stepped in and crossly called them out. That same year, Anya finally began to catch up with her peers, her grades skyrocketing to the stars, and her longtime study buddy Damian gazed at her with pride and something else. 

She was twelve and he was thirteen, and girls started noticing Damian, but he never did seem to care much. They studied in the library. Anya remembered the way Damian liked his tea. He let her borrow his pens without asking (she asked anyway). Their peers gossiped about them between bookshelves. Damian scowled and asked them to stop. Anya didn’t understand what they were all so excited about, but maybe she did— she just didn’t want to acknowledge it.

She was thirteen and he was fourteen, and he asked her to prom, with a nice bouquet of peanuts and a blush on his face. He was so gentlemanly about it, and they were friends, so Anya accepted. As they danced, footsteps in tune with the other, Anya stared at the flower pinned on Damian’s lapel and had a strange sense of foreboding even though she was happy. 

She was fourteen and he was fifteen, and that was when Anya tried to distance herself from Damian because of Operation Strix. She never did go far though, both of them relentlessly in each other’s orbit. They gravitated towards each other. Girls asked Damian out. He always politely turned them down. Demetrius came by Eden to visit. He chatted with Damian, then he glanced at Anya, and oh.

“Despite everything, I believe she’s good for him. She’ll be a welcome addition to our family.”

(But the Forgers and the Briars were Anya’s only family. She couldn’t help but protest.)

Was everybody really expecting it from them? Even without Strix, she was just a commoner girl. Surely Damian wouldn’t seriously go for someone like her. Now even his own brother approved of their non-existent romance. Was this what she was supposed to do?

She was fifteen and he was sixteen, she spilled out half of the truth, he took it. He kissed her, gently and reverently, and she wished she felt something. She honestly, desperately did. 

She only felt guilt. 

And she knew she could never love him back with the same intensity as he loved her.

It was fake. They’d agreed for it to be fake. Unfortunately Damian didn’t have any sense of self-preservation when it concerned her. It wasn’t her fault, but still Anya didn’t want him to get hurt. 

But one day she would have to leave. And to cut the roots she’d spent ten years growing— it would break her heart. They couldn’t keep their unsaid promises to each other. To keep the other company, to stay even when they didn’t need to. 

She would have to leave.

Leaving Berlint would crush her, but she knew it had to happen. So many things she would miss: Eden Academy, Becky, Damian, all of her friends, some of her teachers. The bakery with her favourite crunchy tea cakes. The beautiful park and all of its memories. But she had her parents and Bond, and so many adults that would keep in touch with her— Yuri, Fiona, Franky, Sylvia. Outside of them, Damian was the only one who knew about Strix (Anya didn’t want to get Becky involved). Anya never talked about it much, but he understood how much it hurt her. How much it hurt to leave when all she wanted was a place to stay. 

(Because they were similar, after all.)

… But that was probably for the better for him, right? He would learn to get over her. He would learn to like someone who wasn’t her. And he would find someone so kind and understanding, someone who actually liked him back, someone who could patch him up, someone who would stay. And Anya honestly believed Damian could find a girl like that. He was smart, charming, kind, and girls would line up to go out with him. Once she was gone, someone else would take her spot. Someone had to. 

The sun would rise, the night would fall, and their lives had to continue. 

And Anya could almost see it in her head. His life without her. A beautiful, fulfilling life. He would belong to someone else, and he would be happy. 

So, Damian, when you finally meet the girl whom you’ll spend the rest of your life with…

Anya glanced at her Sy-on boy. She traced the lines of his face, noted the freckles on his cheeks, his long eyelashes, imprinted it in her memory, and wondered what it would be like to kiss him and mean it. 

…I hope she knows just how lucky she is. 

Chapter Text

Like all things that concerned Anya, it happened irrationally. 

Their class was on a school trip to a farm. It was a wet, muddy afternoon, and they were shown tadpoles in a big plastic box filled with water. Naturally, the kids were all excited, and even more so when they could bring the tadpoles back home. Kids extended their fists into the cold water and attempted to snatch the tadpoles, but they always slipped away. Water splashed and kids cried in despair as they tried again and again.

Anya was definitely eager to catch her own tadpole. However, she was short and was easily shoved aside by the crowd. Becky had declared that this ordeal was “stupid” and told Anya she could ask her daddy to buy them a hundred tadpoles if she wished. However, Anya was adamant that she caught the tadpole herself (she was a stubborn girl), and joined the queue alongside many others.

Damian was more interested in the transformation of a tadpole into a frog. It would be so cool to have a live frog bouncing in his dorm while eating all of the pests! Plus, it would be a fun way to learn about biology. So for the sake of his own academic curiosity, Damian lined up next to Anya, a giant grin on his face. 

It was a rainy day. Even though they stood under shelter, the wind blew raindrops towards them and dampened their clothes. Anya’s hand, so small and cold, brushed against Damian’s. Her pink bangs were plastered to her forehead in weird directions and Damian felt a strange urge to correct them. She was so untidy. 

Actually, why was Anya Forger so short? He could rest his chin on her head if he liked. (Not that he would want to.) The line shifted forward, and Anya’s body pressed against his. Damian scowled but found himself unwilling to pull away. An odd flush stained his cheeks. 

Drip, drip, drip.

It was getting colder. It must be the wind. Damian idly wondered if Anya was doing alright, even though she was right beside him. Stupid pipsqueak was probably extra weak against the cold. Damian stuffed his hands into his pockets. Anya was still pressed up against him.

Drip, drip, drip.

“... Hey, Sy-on boy, are you alright? Your heart is beating quickly.”

“E-eh?” Damian automatically took a step away from Anya, but didn’t stray much. A furious blush rose on his cheeks. “I’m fine! Mind your own business!”

Anya’s eyes were wide and innocent and Damian felt his mind melt away. “Oh, I was scared you might have a heart attack. I don’t want you to have a heart attack because you’ll die,” she stated matter-of-factly. 

“Are you jinxing me?!” Damian angrily retorted, but all he was thinking was how Anya could hear his heartbeat, because her head was pressed against his chest, her ear brushing against his jacket, and oh the close proximity was making him dizzy for no reason…

Anya turned and patted his shoulder. “Hang in there, Sy-on boy,” she told him seriously. “You can’t die because you’re important (for world peace).”

Well, duh, of course Damian was important. But was he important to her as well? And why did he care?!

As Damian grumbled and mumbled to himself, they gradually reached the front of the queue and were allowed to try the tadpole box. Anya rolled up her sleeves with a determined expression, then dramatically declared, “Here’s a Forger speciality — Tadpole Strike!!”

Ah. Damian watched with a deadpan expression. She’s going to miss.

Anya missed.

And she missed again. 

As Anya shrieked and splashed around, Damian calmly put his hand in the box and felt for a tadpole. Ugh, that silly commoner girl was getting water on his face. The more panicked Anya became, the more she scared away the tadpoles. Damian sighed. Why was she making this more difficult? Seriously, this girl had no tact. 

Something slipped past Damian’s fingers, and he instantly clenched his fist. He could feel it wriggle, and he triumphantly extracted his hand. Aha! Damian had caught a tadpole, and it was a nice fat one as well! A triumphant grin spread across his face. He was so proud of himself. He let the tadpole slide into a plastic bag, and then—

“NOOOOOO! THEY KEEP SWIMMING AWAY!”

Anya was wailing, her shirt now completely drenched by how much she was thrashing around. Teachers attempted to calm her down. “Miss Forger, your time is up! There aren’t enough tadpoles for everybody, and there’s a long queue…”

Anya sniffed, her beautiful emerald eyes watery, and Damian’s heart panged like it always did. “S-sorry for crying… can I try one more time?”

“Just one more time! You want your friends to have a chance, don’t you?”

Damian, with his tadpole safely swimming in his plastic bag, watched Anya’s last attempt. (Gross, was that mucus dripping from her nose? Where was her handkerchief?) Anya’s vision was blurry with tears so she couldn’t see well. She desperately moved her hand, causing ripples across the water surface, but alas, she wasn’t fast enough. The tadpole slipped away again, and Anya stared at her empty palm dejectedly. Teary-eyed, she mumbled, “I guess Mr Tadpole and I aren’t meant to be…”

Oh no. Oh no, Anya was crying again, and Damian hated it when she cried. She looked so pitiable, her cute yet sad expression tugging on his heartstrings, and Damian’s body moved on its own—

His cheeks red, Damian thrust out his plastic bag. “You can have this!”

Anya stopped crying and looked up at Damian. (Dammit, he felt like he was on fire despite the rain.) “Really?”

Damian instinctively scowled even though he didn’t mean it. “Before I change my mind,” he snapped.

Anya hesitated for a second, then took the bag with a grateful nod. “Thank you, Sy-on boy!”

And then she smiled.

It was a bright, genuine smile that could part the darkest of rainclouds. It was a ray of sunshine shining directly into Damian’s heart. It was a smile from Anya that he decided he liked very, very much. It was a smile that blinded him, so he flushed and looked away.

So maybe Damian liked giving stuff to Anya.

Was it supposed to mean anything, slipping a silly gift from his hand to hers? Was it supposed to mean anything, his boyish attempt at something that wasn’t courtship but oddly held the same level of solemnity for him? The way his heart thumped when he saw her, was it supposed to form a secret melody? Their hands brushing, her eyes on him, the queasy jolt in his heart— was this a language he was supposed to decipher? 

Damian didn’t know. He didn’t understand, but he did it anyway, because he liked it. It was as simple as that.

There was something pure and endearing about liking someone when you were too young to understand what liking someone meant. 

Some time later, the cold began to settle in. Fortunately, Anya wasn’t so poor that her parents couldn’t afford a decent coat for her, but she was dumb enough to leave her coat behind when the class went on a walk.

“Seriously?” Damian snarked at her. “What do you even store in that tiny brain of yours?”

But Damian was wearing two layers of coats, and he was a big boy which meant he couldn’t get cold easily. Therefore, he generously opted to lend Anya one of his coats. 

And so they stood under the trees, Anya wrapping the too-big coat around her. It was chunky and clearly a size too big, but even though Anya looked out of place, Damian was focused on how Anya was wearing his clothes, and she was wearing his clothes, and his heart was going to explode. His cheeks were set so ablaze that he didn’t feel the cold at all. 

“Eh,” Damian said, a little dazed. “You got the buttons wrong.”

Anya looked down. She opened her mouth, then shut it. “Oh.”

And Damian moved on instinct. His fingers found their way to her collar, and it was like he wasn’t thinking. 

“Geez,” he mumbled as he did the buttons the correct way, “you are completely hopeless.”

Anya stood still. Damian was conscious of how close they were. When he reached the top button, his finger flicked and accidentally brushed past Anya’s warm chin. She instinctively lifted her hand and looked up at him, and—

For one second, it felt like Damian couldn’t breathe. 

Then he did the last button and instantly shrunk back like he’d been stung. “Done. Do this yourself next time,” he burst out. 

Anya was staring at him and Damian wanted to flinch. “... Thanks, Sy-on boy.”

Oh great. She sounded weirded out. Because she probably was weirded out, and Damian was weirded out by himself as well, and he was behaving like a creep—

Anya surged forward, took his arm, and Damian’s heart nearly leapt out of his ribcage. “I don’t think you’re a bad person, Sy-on! Thanks for the coat, I appreciate it!”

Damian snatched his arm away, his cheeks bright red. Fire, fire, he was on fire, his skin was burning, and it was all that stupid girl’s fault. “There won’t be a next time!!” he babbled mindlessly (even though he didn’t mean it. He wondered if she knew he didn’t mean it). 

So maybe Anya was the only one who could use his pens without asking. So maybe Damian had extra peanuts that he always gave to Anya. So maybe Damian had strawberries to spare when they picked them in the greenhouse. So maybe he tried to give her gifts, maybe he tried to attract her attention, then his immature side would kick in, and he would throw insults, then he would try to fix it, and it repeated all over again. 

This wasn’t courtship. 

Because courtship was for grownups, and Damian was just a clueless boy following his heart. 

So maybe he gave her a nice handkerchief to replace the one he’d borrowed from her. So maybe he bought her dessert after lunch. And so maybe he gave her his time, two heads bent over the same textbook in the library. 

She didn’t understand, and neither did he.

But did they need to?

When she took the pen from his fingers, when she folded him a wonky paper dog, when she gave him a Bondman sticker for his folder. When he took her hand so she wouldn’t get lost, when she brushed chalk off him after she accidentally dropped the duster, when he finally fixed her bangs when it rained. 

They didn’t understand the warmth brewing in their hearts, they didn’t understand puppy love, they didn’t understand romance, but did they need to? 

When they clumsily, unintentionally copied its motions anyway, because they liked the way it felt?

Chapter Text

In this soundless world with only the two of us, the words I heard were,

“I love you.”

“Ah, the countryside sure is colder…”

Damian and Anya, both wearing thick coats, followed their teacher out of the coach. The moment they stepped out, the cold wind blew against their reddened cheeks like sharp knives. 

Anya sniffed. Her nose was already running. With a slight scowl (though they both knew he didn’t mean it), Damian passed her a handkerchief. Her cold fingers brushed past his. She nodded her thanks as she blew her nose. Damian, who was already slightly flustered, instinctively shoved his hands in his pockets. Then he remembered the teacher had cautioned that the roads would be slippery, so he reluctantly took them out.

Ugh. At least he had mittens that kept his hands warm. 

“Come on, don’t lag behind,” Damian reminded Anya just to break the silence between them. He was a bit fussy, which Anya initially found annoying (she had said that to his face multiple times), but eventually she realized that was his way of caring about her, so she let him.

The two had paired up for a project in Social Studies. They had to interview townsfolk from the countryside about their culture and heritage. Becky, Ewen, and Emile were all in a different group, and due to the absence of their friends, Anya and Damian formed a pair. 

(That was a lie. They had always naturally gravitated towards each other, with or without Operation Strix. Damian always kept an eye out for that weird yet endearing commoner, and Anya was always aware of her goofy Sy-on boy. And while they both definitely had other friends, Damian wanted to look after Anya. Not because of any particular reason, he just wanted to. And Anya let him. How could she not?)

“Still, did they really have to choose winter?” Anya abruptly sneezed when a snowflake landed on her nose. “It’s hard to get around, plus it's super cold.”

“Blame Eden Academy’s curriculum,” Damian drawled. 

“I’ll write a complaint letter to the school.”

“You got a 30% on the complaint letter assignment though. I can’t trust your skills.”

Anya gasped, mock-offended. “Stop rubbing it in, meanie!”

“Maybe I would if you actually got higher marks!”

“Heh, you don’t know how taxing it is to do schoolwork when you’re also a mind-reader. Besides, aren’t my grades proof that I’m not cheating?”

“...” When Anya brought up her mind-reading abilities, there wasn’t much Damian could say. After all, he could never comprehend what she went through. Damian used to be bothered that Anya could read his mind, but as the years passed, he stopped caring as much. It wasn’t like Anya wanted those abilities anyway, plus her behaviour never changed around him, so. 

They continued to banter on the way. It wasn’t anything genuinely spiteful, not after all these years. Their mutual roasting became their way of communicating. It was weird, because while Damian was “allowed” to complain about Anya, he would instantly defend Anya if anybody dared to do the same. Damian would draw himself to his full height, his cheeks burning red due to anger (this time it really was due to anger), then he would fling scathing insult after insult until the other person fled. Of course Damian was furious every time any of his friends were sneered at (they had to hold him back from punching someone who made fun of Emile’s teeth), but he especially lost his cool when it concerned Anya. Damian was never rational around Anya. That was a well-known fact. 

Sometimes, Anya talked to Damian about being able to read minds. It was nice to share the things she’d bottled up for years. Although Damian couldn’t relate, he knew what it felt like to suppress his struggles, so he readily offered an ear.

“I can’t control it all the time,” she once whispered to him during break, their shoulders touching. “I’m trying really, really hard, but sometimes there are cracks in my mind. It slips free. I can’t suppress my powers. Everyone’s thoughts overwhelms me. I get headaches, and I can’t stop it.”

Damian wasn’t sure what to say. He couldn’t provide advice, nor could he relieve her pain, and he didn’t know how to comfort her. He couldn’t formulate the sentences, but still he hoped he could convey his emotions to her. “Are you reading my mind right now?”

“Kinda,” Anya admitted. “I-I like being around you when I lose control of my powers. You… distract me. It’s weird, but I like it. I can stop if you want to. Do you mind?”

No, Damian thought, but he said “no” out loud for emphasis. His heart thumped even though he wasn’t sure why. “Er, can I ask why you… like being around me?”

Anya’s smile was sheepish. “As I said, it’s more like a distraction than anything really. Even if I can’t read your thoughts, there’s this fuzzy haze in your mind when I’m around you. Like the cotton candy at the Bondman carnival. But it’s also like rich hot cocoa. It makes me feel warm and bubbly in a way nothing else does.”

Now Damian’s mind felt like it was melting into hot cocoa. His body was impossibly warm, his hands were slicked with sweat, and he was suddenly acutely aware of his and Anya’s breathing. In, out, in, out. He stared into her captivating green eyes and found himself lost in them. 

Anya exhaled, and Damian’s stomach did an odd little flutter. “But sometimes,” she dragged her words for dramatic effect, “when I’m around you, your thoughts feel like fireworks.”

Now Damian realized she’d leaned in closer to him. He felt lightheaded, but in a wonderful way. “Fireworks?” he echoed.

“Yup, like that party night we had at Becky’s home. Multicoloured lights flashing across the night sky. They’re quick, but they’re pretty. They’re loud, so loud, it feels like it's ringing in my ears. Re-ver-be-ra-ting. (She said each syllable carefully, and Damian couldn’t help but smile. She was indeed working on her vocabulary.) And it’s like my heart is pounding in tune with the fireworks. It drowns out the thoughts of other people and dulls my headache. So I like it.”

She worded it so succinctly and sweetly. Damian’s heart bloomed like a queen of the night flower on a mellow summer night. Despite all of Anya’s past experiences, she had a simple air of innocence that drew him to her. Or maybe it only appeared around him. They both knew they acted more childishly when around each other.

Now that Anya had described it, Damian began to understand what she meant by the “haze” in his mind. It did feel like cotton candy, pink and sugary and whimsical, yet there was a steady warmth pulsing underneath. His train of thought always derailed around her, that was something he knew from the first day he met her, although the term derailing wasn’t accurate— it was more like the train had grown a pair of wings and flown to the skies. 

Now, Damian wasn’t thinking. How could he think when she was simply so close to him? 

Damian’s lips parted, the words slipping out effortlessly. “So do you feel the fireworks now?”

Strands of her hair delicately brushed past his cheek. Her green eyes shyly blinked up at him.

“Mmhmm.”

A smile quirked up on Damian’s lips without him realising it. “But I'm not even thinking.”

“Yeah,” Anya said like it was the point. “You’re not thinking, just feeling.”

And Damian’s breath was stolen away. 

Oh.

And now Damian could feel it too, the fireworks booming in his mind, pink and green and gold and red, the sparks exploding with colour and emotion, spiralling and shattering and rising and falling, his heart pounding faster and faster. 

Oh.

Anya and Damian finished their interviews with surprising efficiency. Once upon a time, teachers were terrified of the duo because Anya was the only person who made Damian lose his temper, and Anya loved smiling creepily at Damian. But as they grew up and learned a bit more about each other (well, it wasn’t every day you learned the girl you’d had a stupid crush since first grade could read minds), their hearts mellowed. They became genuine friends who spent a lot of time with each other. 

“We have half an hour to spare,” Damian noted. “Do you wanna walk around?”

“Um.” Anya stared at her messy handwriting on her clipboard. “I want to, but my ears kind of hurt?”

Damian instantly whipped his head towards her. Ah, he was being a worrywart again. Classic Damian. “What did you say?”

“My ears hurt,” Anya repeated. “I don’t know why though, I haven’t done anything to them.”

The insides of Anya’s ear faintly ached as gusts of wind blew past the two. At first, Anya had tried to ignore the pain, but it continued and became worse. Her ears had never hurt like that before, not when water had gotten into them after she’d gone swimming. What was going on? Anya didn’t want to lose her hearing at such a young age!

“Do you have earmuffs, dumbass?” Damian snapped. He was calling her a dumbass, which meant he was really concerned. Anya swallowed. 

“I didn’t bring them here.”

Damian sighed. “Let’s return to the coach. Your ears are unprotected, and your ear canals might be irritated by the cold weather and the wind. That’s why they hurt.”

Anya perked up. Of course Sy-on boy had the answer! Heh, he really was smart. Anya was about to reach up and cover her ears when she remembered she was holding her clipboard. Right, they should return to the coach as quickly as possible to put down their stuff. 

So they hurried back to the coach, Anya following Damian on the cobblestone paths. Anya couldn’t help but stare at Damian’s silhouette in front of her. His thick navy blue coat looked so comfortable on him, and Anya had a sudden urge to stand on her tiptoes and sink her chin on his shoulder. His brown hair was casually swept to one side due to the wind, and Anya knew Damian would fix it because he was a perfectionist. She internally giggled at the thought. Damian could be fixated on the smallest of details, and he might be a perfectionist, but to her, he was still her silly Sy-on boy. The one she’d known since childhood.

Ah— she was getting distracted. 

Anya quickened her footsteps and caught up with Damian. She noticed white mist was puffing out from her mouth, so she exhaled and formed an extra large cloud. Damian noticed her stupidly smug expression and snorted. A second later, he also exhaled, forming a cloud to rival Anya’s. He smirked. She rolled her eyes. They still liked competing over silly things, and it was a routine they naturally fell into.

As expected, they were the first students back. Damian let Anya take the window seat (as always). After putting away her items, Anya raised her cold, clammy fingers to her aching ears. The absence of the wind was an improvement, but her ears continued to throb. She frowned. 

“Is it better now?” came Damian’s voice in the empty coach. He was sitting next to her, and Anya was conscious of how their coats were pressed against each other. 

Anya made a face and attempted to massage her ears. “My hands are also cold, so maybe that’s why it’s not helping. But it doesn’t hurt as much now.”

“Tch, this is why you shouldn’t forget your earmuffs,” Damian chastised. Anya watched as he took off his mittens. “Hey, I kept my hands warm, so wanna let me try?” 

It was an innocent suggestion, but Damian’s cheeks were already dotted with pink. “Sure,” Anya replied before she fully recognised what she’d agreed to. It was only when Damian stretched his hands towards her that it sunk in, and oh.

She could hear her own heartbeat. Was it because of how quiet the coach was? Damian was close to her, so close, his warm hands gently cupping her ears. Anya instinctively avoided eye contact with Damian (even though recently she’d found herself admiring the shape of his eyes; they were so sharp and elegant). Looking at him blinded her like she was staring at the sun. Which was weird because Anya had never felt blinded by Damian before. Sure, he was a scion of the mighty Desmond family, but still, he was just a boy. A boy Anya happened to know, a boy Anya happened to be friends with. A boy who now had his hands over her ears to warm them up. It was a simple gesture, sweet and even a little childish, yet it made Anya’s stomach flutter. 

“Is it warmer now?”

Damian’s voice was muffled. Anya still didn’t dare to stare at him. There was a warmth somewhere alright, and it didn’t just come from his hands. Anya was again distracted for a few seconds, but then remembered she had to reply. 

“It’s better, but I can’t really hear.”

“Just read my mind then, okay?” 

Anya jolted in surprise. She instinctively glanced at Damian. There was an intense look in his eyes that was unfamiliar but didn’t feel wrong. He was still so close, but Anya didn’t find it in her to shy away. Now Anya couldn’t tear her own eyes away from him. 

Slowly, slowly, Damian moved his hands. He massaged her ears to get the blood circulation back, and Anya flushed. There was something so oddly intimate about this whole situation, just the two of them in an empty coach, winter light illuminating Damian’s pink face. Damian was gently holding her, and she allowed him to. If she leaned forward, their noses would touch. The thought of it made Anya dizzy, but in a good way. 

“That feels nice,” Anya said out loud.

“I’m glad it does,” Damian replied soundlessly. He continued, and Anya just sat there, vaguely aware something had shifted in the atmosphere around them but she wasn’t exactly sure what. Her heartbeat sped up, her pulse drumming against her wrist, and it felt like she was about to explode—

Ah, that was right.

Fireworks.

Fireworks were going off in Damian’s mind. Bright, shining stars raining down. Streaks of gold glitter racing across the sky. Coloured lights sparkling and spiralling, fleeting yet beautiful. Anya’s heart thumped in time with the fireworks. Boom. Boom. Boom. 

For so long, Anya had been an observer. She gravitated to Damian whenever her powers got out of control because there was something about him that comforted her. The fireworks, the fuzzy static in his mind drowned out everything else. 

But it was different now. Because Anya actually felt the fireworks in her heart. She was sharing this experience with Damian. They were watching the fireworks together, side by side, the air between them eletricitifyingly warm despite it being winter. 

The world around them was silent, but their thoughts couldn’t be more loud. 

“... Hey, Anya? Are you listening?”

Anya swallowed. “Yup.”

Damian flushed, highly embarrassed. “Sorry, my brain’s a mess right now. I-I don’t even know…”

“That’s alright, I like it better this way.” Anya shifted closer to Damian. His hands were still over her ears. The pain had subsided by now, but she didn’t want him to let go. Damian’s cheeks were a pretty red, and Anya idly wondered what it would be like to touch them. To cup them the way he cupped her ears. Her lips parted, breaking the silence in the warm limbo of time that belonged to them, and them only. 

“After all, we’re not thinking, we’re feeling.”

Chapter Text

Anya was familiar with the way her heart rate sped up, because her heart beat faster whenever she was nervous or in danger. And Anya was quite familiar with being nervous and being in danger. 

When Anya escaped from that horrible facility, running as fast as her tiny legs could carry her, her heart was pounding so quickly that it almost hurt. And when Anya saw Bond’s vision of her precious Pa dying, again her heart thudded painfully as she tried her best to stop the bomb. 

To Anya, her heart rate was an indicator of how dangerous a situation was. And being quite danger prone, Anya grew to be rather attuned to her body’s reactions. Her pounding heart was like a ticking bomb in her heart that acted as a reminder that things needed to be done, and they needed to be done quickly or else someone would get hurt. 

So naturally, Anya’s heart began to thump when she realized her class was trapped in a hijacked bus with terrorists. When Anya’s classmates began to panic, Anya’s heart rate naturally increased, but after Bill calmed everybody down, Anya’s heart rate returned to normal. It turned into a dull, steady thump, a reminder to stay alert even when there was no immediate danger. 

When Anya read the terrorists’ minds and learned of their destination, she grew excited. Her heart began to pound as she and Becky planned their grand scheme to send out a SOS note. 

Damian was worried for them (Sy-on boy was careful like that). He tossed the girls a note telling them not to do anything “stupid” or they would risk being killed, then frantically made a cross sign with his hands to tell them to stop. Anya, naturally, wanted to tell him not to worry. Unfortunately, he did not understand her unique handwriting, and Becky had to write the note instead. Damian read Becky’s note, considered it for a few seconds, and then wrote back.

“I’ll make a distraction to give you an opening.”

Anya’s heart thumped. So Sy-on boy was helping them! They had to take advantage of his distraction, whatever that might be. Sy-on boy might be a piece of crap (who wasn’t ugly), but he was useful (probably). Damian stood up and walked to the front of the bus. 

“Just let me handle this. I got a plan.”

It was a little strange to see Damian, who was usually flustered or crying, talk confidently like he was a grown up. Anya’s watchful eyes followed Damian’s every move. Damian was nowhere as cool as Twilight or Bondman, but Anya had to admit Damian wasn’t bad. At least he had the guts. And Anya liked gutsy people. 

Damian walked up to the terrorists, his steps almost a swagger, but the observant Anya could see his body tremble. Was it from nervousness? Or was it an act he was putting on? Anya didn’t know Damian well enough to tell.

And then Damian boldly declared, “I am, like right now, about to crap my pants.”

Becky gasped, horrified, but Anya’s expression remained determined. Not bad, Sy-on boy. You’re using the same excuse as Anya did. That earned him some points in her book. Anya secretly cheered for Damian in her mind.

Anya was getting distracted by Damian (heh, he did seem a little bit cool, even if he was still a stupid piece of crap), and Becky had to remind Anya of their job. Her heart rate increasing, Anya grabbed the tin with their message and flung it outside the window. There! It was done.

Except that was just the beginning.

The terrorist noticed. He had snatched Damian’s collar and was roughly shaking him, but now something else had grabbed his attention. The terrorist carelessly let Damian go and he crashed against a seat, panting. Despite the obvious tension in the bus, Anya’s eyes remained drawn to Damian. Was Sy-on boy hurt? Did he really crap his pants? 

“Hey, what’d you just do?!” the terrorist boomed, his shadow towering over the kids. Anya shivered. “Did you throw something outside?!”

Anya panicked. Her heart was like a frantic drum in her ribcage and she began to sweat profusely. She hummed to act casual, her notes high-pitched and quick, but the terrorist wasn’t buying it.

In one swift motion, the terrorist dragged Anya from her seat. Her wrist burned and she winced. Next thing she knew, a cold and heavy collar was fastened on her neck. It dug uncomfortably in her shoulders and Anya’s hands automatically scrabbled at the metal. 

It was a bomb.

A bomb that could set off.

A bomb that could kill her, and Becky, and Sy-on boy, and her classmates in the way a bomb almost killed Pa. 

The shock hadn’t quite settled in yet, but Anya’s body was already reacting. Her frightened heart pumped blood to the rest of her body, beating faster and faster, and Anya could feel the pulse in her neck throb against the chilly metal. What was it again? A neck art-er-ry that helped blood flow to the brain? Anya swore something like that had popped up in Ma’s thoughts, but she was suddenly bad at recalling memories. 

Anya gulped fearfully. “This thing… is gonna de-cap-a-tape me?”

Anya’s words acted as a trigger for everyone to scoot away, but Anya noticed that Damian didn’t. He remained rooted to his seat, an expression of horror painted on his face. Even as George, who was next to Damian, cowered and whimpered against the window, Damian remained still. His eyes flickered up to hers. Anya’s heart thumped again. 

“No, not my Anya!” Becky wailed. “This can’t be real!”

The true horror of the realization began to sink in like ice seeping into Anya’s bones. Her hands helplessly fell onto her sides as she stared at the unremovable bomb around her neck. A bomb now strapped to her neck like how bombs were strapped to Bond, how bombs were hidden on the cruise ship, how bombs nearly killed her Pa, how a bomb could kill her now—

“Of course it’s not real.”

The terrorist’s confident statement pierced through Becky’s terrified thoughts. Anya stared up at the terrorist, shell-shocked. HUH?!

Anya then learned that her bomb was fake and it was only to “settle” the kids. Which meant she wasn’t in any real danger after all. Phew! Anya’s speeding heartbeat returned to normal. With a careless, relieved smile, Anya flopped back down on the seat. However, her relaxed behaviour ended up scaring Becky and Damian. 

“Is she crazy?” Damian screamed in his mind. His pale body trembled with fear. “How can she make that stupid face when she has a bomb strapped to her neck? Well, I mean, she always has that stupid face, but— no! Calm down, Damian. Focus!”

Hmph, so Sy-on boy was shocked (impressed) by how calm she was.

“Can she really be that unflappable? Was she raised by an assassin or something?!”

Anya gasped. How did Sy-on boy know? Was it a lucky guess? However, like any good child of a spy and an assassin, Anya’s focus went back to Operation Strix. In her imagination, she saw silly snot-faced Damian saying, “Wow, Anya, you’re such a big deal! I’m gonna invite you to meet my dad!”

Obviously Anya wasn’t going to let this chance slip from her fingers. To prove that she was indeed amazing and unflappable, she shot Damian a self-assured smirk and smacked the bomb.

Screams burst from the students and Anya was suddenly hit with a wave of sheer terror. Oh no, she was supposed to comfort her peers, so why did she scare them more?? Hateful thoughts from every direction intruded into her mind— “Stop screwing around, you moron!” “If you wanna die, don’t take us with you!” “I hate her so much!”

The mass panic overwhelmed Anya and her head spun. She was aware of her pulse frantically beating against the metal. Huh, even though her heart was pumping blood quickly, she still felt lightheaded. Her head flopped and was stuck up in an awkward angle. Her chin throbbed from where it had collided with the metal. Despite Anya’s drifting consciousness, she managed to hold onto a certain somebody’s train of thought—

“Yeah, of course, it was all just for show. She just didn’t want the rest of us to be scared!”

Sy-on boy thinks I’m scared?! Anya thought, dizzy. That was the exact opposite of what was happening. In fact, Anya bet Damian was actually more scared than she was.

However, Damian shocked Anya when he stood up and walked to the front of the bus. Anya could tell he was nervous but he was desperately trying not to be.

His fists shaking, Damian proclaimed, “The bomb on her neck, attach it to me instead!”

Anya was initially confused. Had Sy-on boy finally lost it? Why the heck would he want to take the bomb for her?

But then Damian proclaimed that he was the son of the National Unity Party chairman and that “all the kids liked him” (which Anya highly doubted because she for one did not like Sy-on boy). Anya studied Damian carefully and she pierced through his thoughts:

“Father fought against all kinds of enemies during the war! And I… I can fight too!”

Was it just her imagination, or did Damian’s backside look bigger? Anya’s green eyes were wide. It felt something had meticulously shifted in the air. She’d read Damian’s true intentions and she knew he wasn’t lying. This was what he truly believed and what he wanted to do. Damian wanted to fight. For the rest of the class, and for her. 

“… Sy-on boy…”

Okay, maybe it was a little cool of Damian. Maybe he was a little like Pa and Bondman. 

Even though the immediate danger was gone, Anya’s heart rate increased. The pulse in her neck furiously beat against the metal collar. She focused on Damian’s figure standing protectively in front of her. 

… Funny, why was Anya’s heart beating fast when she saw Damian? Was she worried for him because he was in danger? 

But if that was the case—

(Anya’s eyes shimmered. She couldn’t tear her gaze away from Damian.)

—then why did it feel different from before?

A few days had passed since the Red Circus incident. Anya and her classmates were safely returned to their parents and no one had gotten hurt. Gradually, the kids returned to their normal lives.  

At least, Anya thought she’d returned to her normal life. 

But then why, oh why did her heart rate speed up whenever she saw her Sy-on boy? 

Anya didn’t understand it. At first, she thought it was because of the bomb incident and she was worried for him because she knew Damian was a huge crybaby. But they all emerged from the incident fine and relatively unscarred. 

So maybe Anya’s body was still stuck in flight or fight mode (Anya learned those terms from her Bondman cartoons). But when Anya looked at her dear friend Becky whom she adored, her heart didn’t beat fast. And she knew she definitely cared about Becky’s safety. 

With Anya’s amazing deduction skills at work, that led to one conclusion. 

Damian wasn’t in danger. He was the danger. 

Because of course Damian Desmond was dangerous! He was the son of the evil boss and a piece of crap. Even though Damian had stood up for her, he was still evil… because obviously Anya’s heart was telling her that he meant bad news! 

“Anya has to carry out a special mission,” Anya mumbled to herself, faux-serious. “Anya has to avoid the evil son of the big bad! Because he means danger!”

Becky, as always, was completely confused. “Anya? What are you talking about??”

So Anya decided to avoid Damian because even looking at him caused an odd little twist in her stomach. She ducked behind desks, hid behind pillars, and even used Becky as a human shield whenever Damian walked past. Damian was rather surprised (and actually a bit hurt) by how Anya suddenly stopped speaking to him, but he told himself it was better if that stupid runt continued ignoring him. 

(Heh, Sy-on boy was a liar.) 

Perhaps Damian would stop being a threat soon. After all, Anya didn’t like that she had to avoid her classmate every day. It was simply annoying. But as time passed by, the bomb in Anya’s chest didn’t go away. Whenever Damian was around, her heart thumped relentlessly like a blaring alarm. Soon, Anya learned to recognise the tell-tale signs of Damian (a hint of his hair colour, the way his voice sounded in corridors) and literally leapt away to avoid him. But nothing she did managed to calm the ticking bomb in her heart.  

It was in the midst of Anya’s strategic avoidance that she was forced to come into contact with Damian. Or rather, Anya bumped into some kids who got mad at her, and Damian chose to step in and defend her. Because as the scion of the Desmond family, Damian was supposed to protect his peers.

(And he especially wanted to protect Anya.)

Anya, who was pressed against a wall, looked up at Damian, wide-eyed. Damian was threatening the bullies with his family and his status, a stern glint in his sharp eyes. The kids that Anya had bumped into quickly fled. Damian smirked and patted his chest, satisfied. Despite the danger now being gone, Anya’s heart rate sped up again as she gaped at Damian. 

Wait. Damian seemed… extra shiny. Anya rubbed her eyes, then blinked owlishly. Still shiny.

“Sy-on boy?” Anya asked after two weeks of not speaking with him.

“What?”

“Do you use the same shampoo as Bondman?” Anya asked innocently. It was a genuine question. Bondman was shiny and made Anya’s heart pound, and now Damian was shiny and made Anya’s heart pound, so there must be something connecting them.

Damian frowned. “Shampoo? No. I don’t even know what brand Bondman uses.”

Anya was reminded of when she said Damian was a piece of crap but wasn’t ugly. She still stood by that, although Damian was less of a piece of crap, and more like a shiny piece of… something that was occasionally trash but was turning into something else. And while Anya would never stoop as low as to call someone ugly, Damian’s face… wasn’t disagreeable. He didn’t look like George, whose permanent gloom was almost suffocating. He didn’t look like Bill, whose hard features and muscles intimidated Anya even though she knew Bill was a good person. Sy-on boy was just… Sy-on boy. In all of his snot-faced, squinty, shiny glory. 

“Heh.” Anya grinned at Damian. “Sy-on boy is shiny.”

Damian’s face heated up. “W-what do you mean?” he practically screamed at her. 

Ahh, Damian was flustered. He was always flustered around her. It was then Anya realized Damian’s heart rate was increasing exponentially. Anya gasped. Did Sy-on boy view her as a threat too? Was that why he was anxious? But she couldn’t be his friend if he was scared of her!

Anya smiled genially at Damian. “Thanks for standing up for me, Sy-on boy. You’re not always a piece of crap so don’t see me as a threat, heh.” 

“What? I don’t see you as a threat,” Damian grumbled. “You’re merely a commoner. Don’t get arrogant just because you punched me that one time.”

Anya blinked. So Damian didn’t see her as a threat? Then why was his heart warning him by beating quickly? Was there another reason? 

“Oh,” Anya replied stupidly. Now her and Damian were staring at each other. Damian’s face was slowly reddening and as if mirroring his actions, Anya felt warmth blossom on her cheeks. 

And then Anya’s heart thumped.

Just like it had on the bus. Anya had been certain that it meant danger, but now she wasn’t so sure. Surely Damian wasn’t dangerous, right? Her heart was just overreacting to something, right?

The longer Anya stood there, the more her heart rate increased. And as if following in her footsteps, Damian’s heart rate increased too. So they were dumbly rooted to the ground, staring at each other, hearts pounding in unison. 

Something miraculous was brewing in the air. Anya didn’t know what it was, but it felt different from the bus hijacking. It was exciting, it was shiny, and it was… new. Anya gulped, suddenly nervous but in a wonderful, awful way.

…Eh?

Chapter Text

Loving Anya Forger was pink.

Damian remembered the moment he’d fallen for her. Her adorable crying face was like a soothing balm against the bruise on his cheek. Pink bubbles and sparkles had popped out from nowhere. Rose petals were swirling in a complete storm around her. His heart felt sickly sweet, like he’d engulfed an unhealthy amount of cotton candy. 

Damian had never been quite the same afterwards. He noticed her stupid pink hair everywhere. His heart stuttered when he saw her, and irrational anger bubbled inside him every time she insulted him. He pretended not to notice her, but he always did. His friends said his face turned red around her, and to that he would furiously declare, “It’s red because of anger!”.

Damian didn’t understand it. He wasn’t sure if he even wanted to understand it. 

It felt like a sugar high. Butterflies fluttering in his chest. Damian’s heart couldn’t help but skip a beat every time that shiny, adorable smile appeared on her face. Anya Forger was not supposed to have such an impact on him. He totally did not like her. Not one bit. Damian was vehemently in denial. So, of course, he ricocheted in the complete opposite direction.

Damian claimed he hated Anya. She was a lowly commoner, unfit for members of the elite like him. He ignored the sweetness blossoming in his heart and childishly declared that Anya was a runt and she was stupid and they would never, ever be friends. He made fun of her. He copied her signature derpy smirk. He approached her to bother her with completely random things. He sneered, she cried, and he pretended he felt good— except guilt clawed at him from inside.

Stupid Anya Forger and her stupid influence over him.

Eventually, it became too bothersome to pretend to hate her. It was just easier to be proper friends with her, really. It was just— she was just—

(Her pretty green eyes. Her pink hair, the shade of cotton candy. Her smile. Her wit. Her silliness. Her kindness. Her bravery. How she’d saved him multiple times, shining like a star.)

Damian blushed deeply, his cheeks stained with pink. He couldn’t help it. 

Sure, she still annoyed him, but it left a scratchy feeling deep in his heart. It was almost as if he liked being annoyed by her. So he took a deep breath, sucked it up, admitted they were friends, and when she smiled at him, it felt like his world had exploded in shimmers and stars and petals once again.

Loving Anya Forger was pink.

The packet of bubblegum they secretly passed back and forth in class, fingers brushing. Cherry blossom petals falling on one warm spring morning, his eyes flitting over to her under the trees. The pink lemonade from a picnic by the Stellar Lake. (Anya had winced at the carbonated drink, and Damian had laughed at her reaction even though he secretly found it cute.) The blush rising on his cheeks when he snuck looks at her, year after year. The messy words on his notebook, scribbled with her sparkly pen. Sharing candy floss at a carnival, fireworks lighting up the night sky. The pastel dress Anya wore to one of the end-of-year dances. The single rose a thirteen-year-old Damian almost gave to her on Valentine’s Day. 

It was innocent. Childish. Maybe even silly. Damian knew nothing would come out of this stupid puppy love, and yet.

They were still friends, and Damian let himself be content with it. Just because he had a dumb crush on Anya didn’t mean he wanted to date her, let alone marry her. He was young. He didn’t know anything. 

(And Anya deserved better, anyway.)

The years passed by, and they went from being bickering kids to being bickering teens. The early years of puberty were inevitably awkward, there was a new, odd sort of tension in the air, but Damian tried not to let it bother him. Besides, whenever he and Anya were together, they reverted to their childlike selves anyway. 

Anya’s hair grew longer. More Stellars embellished Damian’s uniform. All of the girls shot up in height, except for Anya. (Becky never stopped gloating about how she was taller than Damian until his growth spurt hit.) Anya received bolts, but she also received a surprising amount of stars (but was it surprising when she was the first in their year to ever get a star?). People didn’t understand why the scion of the Desmond family hung out with a commoner girl. Girls got jealous. Boys became annoyed. Anya remained cheerful and completely unbothered, which irritated them more. 

Friends looked out for each other. Friends defended each other. So when Damian heard a familiar shout in the corridor, he dropped his books and ran. 

It wasn’t that Anya wasn’t good at fighting. It was that she was so good that she would get expelled for it. Her punching Damian in their first year was just the beginning of Anya’s glorious legacy. But she’d gotten into trouble for fighting too many times (even though her friends all argued they were for legitimate causes), and now she couldn’t retaliate. 

“Get away from her!” Damian seethed towards the bullies. Anya was shaking, her fists clenched as she tried her hardest to control herself.

“This isn’t your fight, Desmond,” somebody sneered.

“Sy-on boy, what are you doing here?!” Anya hissed. “They’re gonna make you get a bolt!”

Damian didn’t want to ruin his record, but there was no way in hell that he would let people step all over Anya. All over his friend. Anya could probably fight better than he even could. Still, Damian tried to protect her even though he knew damn well she could project herself better. 

Thankfully, Damian did not get a bolt. Neither did Anya. They had retaliated in “self-defense”. Anya just received a bruise on her shoulder, but Damian had scraps and cuts on his face and arms. Red blood was smeared on his white blouse. The blood was minimal, to be honest, but his friends had all freaked out. Becky was about to take advantage of her family’s contacts and call an ambulance (ignoring there was an infirmary at Eden). Ewen and Emile immediately started campaigning for the expulsion of the bullies. Anya was naturally upset. She was almost angry at him, which was weird considering he’d helped her.

Anya’s cheeks were flushed with red. “I was dealing with those goons just fine. How are you more hurt than I am?”

“I know you’re not allowed to punch people anymore, so I’ll punch them for you.” Damian knew it sounded ridiculous, but he was dead serious. Who dared to hurt Anya? Who dared to hurt one of Damian’s closest friends?

“Violence isn’t the answer,” Becky tried to say, but was interrupted by Emile boisterously exclaiming, “IT IS SOMETIMES!”

“But… I appreciate it. Thanks, Sy-on boy.” Anya averted her eyes. The redness on her cheeks was still there. “... You were kinda cool, I guess. Heh.”

Damian swallowed, an indescribable emotion tightly wedged in his heart. He suddenly had a foolish notion that all of the pain was worth it. All because of the words a girl said to him. “... Don’t sweat it. We’re friends.”

In the sinks, Damian tried to wash the blood off. It mingled with the cold water and went down the drain in faint streaks of pink. Damian felt stupid for self-appointing himself as Anya’s prince or hero or whatever, considering she was the one always saving him. But again, he couldn’t help it.

They grew up a bit more. Anya came back to school with a scarlet ribbon on her head (Becky’s influence, probably.) The family pressure on Damian intensified, and he buried his face in books. Anya studied with Damian, the two of them keeping each other company during the long hours in the library. She wrote her answers in pencil, he corrected them in red. When he was burnt out, she dragged him to the cafeteria for macarons and apple tarts. On a field trip, Anya got oddly excited about picking strawberries and Damian tagged along with her. He popped strawberries in his mouth, chewing them slowly to enjoy their sweetness, juice dribbling down his lip. Anya’s eyes flitted towards him, then flitted away. Under the shadows from the strawberry bushes, the colour on her cheeks was barely noticeable. 

Anya was so nice to him. Sometimes, in his sleepless nights, he would recall his embarrassing youth. How he teased Anya for her witch horns and stubby legs. His insults about her family and background. He’d been horrible to her as kids. Why was she so obsessed with befriending him when he treated her so badly? Good thing Anya always had Becky who always knew when to call him out. 

On Valentine’s Day, Damian’s eyes lingered on the beautiful roses in flower shops, but he made no move to buy them. Anya’s nose was tinged red in the cold. Winter came, then spring. Their classmates started dating each other. Girls asked Damian out. Damian knew he had to entertain them due to the status of his family. He was no longer a child. He had adult responsibilities and was expected to act like one. 

Anya wore makeup to the end-of-year dance. Blush, mascara, and crimson lipstick. Damian danced with other girls and pretended to be entertained. Anya was looking at him, a bright green eye behind a red feather fan. She pretended she wasn’t watching. He pretended he didn’t notice.

Damian was required to go to more balls, socials, dinners. He had to sit still, look polite but invisible, learn the invisible rules of the grown-ups, and chat with their daughters. He had to fit in and never stand out. He was the second son, the spare. 

And he knew this was no place for Anya Forger. Anya Forger, who could break walls with her confident smile, who was weird yet witty, who never cared much for social customs, who was the boldest, bravest girl he knew. These people would loathe Anya. And Anya would loathe them back.

… Damian was supposed to be grown up anyway. He shouldn’t indulge in his silly childhood crush. He didn’t understand what love meant back then, and he wasn’t sure if he understood it now. He let his heart drift away from her. When she fell asleep on his shoulder, he no longer blushed. When other boys tried to impress her, Damian returned his attention to his book. He wasn’t good enough for her. Not with the stuffy environment he was expected to spend the rest of his life in. And he’d been vicious, spiteful, and mean towards her— and it was because of his dumb crush on her. How ironic. 

He’d never should’ve wasted time on liking her. It was counterproductive to their friendship which he greatly treasured. And it wasn’t like she would like him anyway, not when she called him a snot-faced brat and fought with him and acted like the insults he made as a child meant nothing. 

Loving Anya Forger was pink—

because it wasn’t really love after all. Puppy love, a stupid crush, infatuation, childish attachment— Damian wasn’t mature enough to know what he wanted. And back then he was awful at managing his emotions, choosing to snarl and jeer at Anya to hide his secret affections for her. He was a terrible person, especially to Anya who just wanted to be his friend.

Damian was glad he’d gotten over her and those childish feelings of his. After all, he could act normally around her now. He could give her the decency and kindness she deserved, and they could be proper friends. Just like what she’d always wanted when they were kids. 

His feelings for her were pink, a watered down, pale imitation of the passionate scarlet of love, because what six-year-old knew about romance? His crush (it was merely a crush) would stay in candy wrappers and spring flowers and the chiming of school bells. It would scatter in the wind like dandelion seeds and fade into the past, time diluting it like water did to the blood on his uniform so long ago. And it would be for the best. Anya never deserved all his mocking and she never deserved to be the target of his pent-up emotions.

… Damian was quite glad that he’d gotten over Anya.

And thus Damian concluded his inner monologue in the library, quite satisfied with how his feelings had developed. That embarrassing (yet endearing) chapter of his story was done and over. Damian shut his book and decided to go for a walk. But the moment he stepped out of the library, an all-too-familiar shade of pink caught his eye.

“Anya?”

Damian cautiously approached his longtime friend. Anya was trembling and sniffling in a corner, and with a sudden pang in his heart, Damian realized she was crying. Concern surged over him. Was it her grades? Her parents? Was someone mean to her? Damian gulped. Heck, nobody messed with his friends! What was going on with Anya?

Damian reached out for a hug, or perhaps to pat her shoulder, but Anya flinched and stepped away. Huh. Damian dropped his arm, guilt itching in his heart for no real reason, and then Anya looked up.

Red.

Burning red.

Her eyes were red-rimmed, her puffy cheeks were flushed from crying, and she must have been chewing on her lip because it was extra swollen and red. Anya sniffed, glaring at Damian with anger, misery, pain, and something he couldn’t recognise in all the years he’d known her.

Damian was taken aback. Anya clearly didn’t want a hug from him, but he didn’t want to leave her alone. “Who hurt you, Anya? D-do you wanna talk?” Then he took into account her reactions to him, and hesitatingly added, “… Did I hurt you?”

Anya’s chest was heaving and tears continued to spill out from her eyes. “I-it’s not your fault, Sy-on boy…” she mumbled. “I just… I just need some time alone. I’ll be fine.”

Anya’s face was so red now that even the tips of her ears were burning. Damian took a step forward again, intending to wipe her tears, but Anya retreated. So she really didn’t want him to touch her, yet she reassured him that it wasn’t his fault. Well, that certainly sounded like a lie.

“Anya, I’m not sure what I did but I didn’t mean it—“

Anya suddenly lurched towards him, tilting up her nose. She jabbed a finger at his chest. “Sy-on boy, you dummy!” she babbled nonsensically. “Why didn’t I realize my feelings? Why does it have to be like this?”

Damian stared at Anya, a red-faced, tear-stained bundle of rage. He was confused, but also upset because Anya was clearly upset. “Why does it have to be like what?”

“I—“

Damian hadn’t realised Anya was grabbing onto his shirt, white knuckled grip wrinkling the expensive fabric, but he didn’t move away. Slowly, slowly, he let her ease herself into his embrace. He wrapped her arms around her shaking body as she sobbed into his shoulder. Damian was painfully confused, but at least Anya let him comfort her now. He would be there for her. After all, friends supported each other.

Anya shivered. Damian felt a wet spot on his shoulder, but he did not care at all. All he cared about was Anya and how miserable she currently was. She wouldn’t tell him what went wrong but he would be there for her anyway. Carefully, Damian patted Anya’s back. She was so small in his arms.

“Sy-on boy…” Anya mumbled. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

“Of course,” Damian immediately replied, soothing her. Did she suddenly feel insecure about their friendship? “I… I know I wasn’t the best person in our early years, but we’re definitely friends now. You’re important to me. We’ll always be friends.” 

Anya’s hair was tickling his ear. Her face was pressed against his neck, and when she spoke, it felt like a ghost of a kiss on his collarbone.

“Yeah,” Anya sobbed. “We’re friends. Of course we’re friends.”

She spat out the last word with a little more venom than necessary, and Damian was confused as to why. His heart ached like he’d lost something he never knew— a fleeting relationship, a future he’d given up chasing, two lines intersecting at the wrong times, parallel lives, what could’ve been.

Loving Anya Forger was pink—

but to Anya, losing Damian Desmond was red.

Chapter Text

There was something silly yet endearing about liking someone when you were too young to understand what liking someone meant. 

Damian, merely six years old, had no outlet for the sudden surge of unfamiliar feelings. All he knew about romance was about grown ups getting married, and that people would like him because of his charm. He never thought he would be the one to fall first, and for a commoner girl who punched him, no less!

Naturally, Damian resorted to anger. He was angry at Anya Forger for making him all weird and jittery. With her creepy horns, he bet she was an evil raccoon creature who cursed his heart. How else could a dumb, ugly commoner girl worm her way into his brain? 

Damian couldn’t help but be conscious of Anya. After Anya earned her first Stellar (urgh), their classmates began to mock her. Sure, Anya’s inflated ego was infuriating, but she earned the Stellar fairly. Insulting her star would be like insulting Eden Academy’s system. So naturally, Damian snapped when people expected him to chime in with the mocking.

Ewen and Emile thought he looked super cool back then. Well, duh, Damian always knew he was cool. He had to be cool to take care of his best friends. As a member of the powerful Desmond family, Damian knew it was his responsibility to protect those around him. 

… And apparently that included Anya Forger. He’d foolishly sacrificed himself during that dodgeball match for that ungrateful girl, and he didn’t have the faintest idea why he did that even when his heart was beating like crazy. 

It’s anger! Damian stubbornly told himself. I’m angry she didn’t thank me after all that I went through!!

Damian instinctively felt the need to tease Anya. Damian was never good with words, and especially not the sweet kind, so he repeated his insults to Anya and it became a habit. He saw her every day when she came to class. She would say something stupid about his house, he would retort, they would call each other names, and Damian would do it all over again tomorrow. It was a routine he stuck to for some reason, even though he knew he shouldn’t waste his time with commoners. 

Even if Anya didn’t notice Damian, he always noticed her. And sometimes his limbs would move on their own, like when they were cleaning the courtyard and he “attacked” her with his special sweep. She had coughed due to the dust, but she had looked at him (even if it was in distaste), which meant he succeeded, and Damian’s heart sang with stupid, boyish delight. 

Ah. 

Damian liked attention.

He pretended he didn’t like attention from Anya, but every time he ran away from her, his mind would replay their interactions over and over gleefully, almost tauntingly. Damian would scream and wail and bury his head into his pillow (to the confusion of his friends). 

Damian didn’t understand the way he acted around Anya. How he would jump to her defense, how he would tease her, how he would run away but speak to her first thing tomorrow. It was like being on a sea-saw, all ups and downs and confusion. It was just instinct and emotion, and every time Anya Forger was around, Damian felt like a preschooler throwing a temper tantrum. Her infuriating smirks could unwind years of etiquette lessons and stuffy lectures. She, of all people, was his undoing. 

A bit later, Damian grew to understand his feelings better. Such as when they were trapped in a cave during a storm. Both of them were cold and shivering. Anya was sniffling and crying at the thunder, and although Damian was terrified out of his wits, he wanted to comfort Anya. He wasn’t able to give a true reason back then— he just wanted to. Because what did a six-year-old understand about puppy love? 

He was the second son of the Desmonds. He was the only one with Anya. It was his duty to take care of his peers. He was supposed to protect her. He wanted to protect her. 

So he took her hand. Didn’t think, just did.

After all, instinct and emotion. 

Did it mean anything? Was it supposed to mean anything, her little hand in his? Was holding hands improper? Damian wasn’t sure. All he knew was that Anya stopped hiccuping. All he knew was that they quietly sat there. All he knew was Anya looking at him in surprise and gratitude, her green eyes shimmering despite the dim light, then Damian’s heart panged with sweetness and something more—

and everything changed.

She’d never looked at him like that. It was like he was her personal hero.

And Damian really, really liked that. 

When he saved her from that dodgeball, she was mostly surprised, but they picked up their classic bantering almost immediately. Now, in the musty cave with nowhere to go, she was genuinely thankful for him with sincerity oozing from her eyes. While Damian would usually drop her hand and run, he couldn’t escape.

(He didn’t want to escape.)

So holding hands with a girl felt nice. Correction: holding hands with Anya felt nice. He didn’t understand why (he didn’t want to understand why), but it did.

So Damian discovered a new kind of attention from Anya that he liked. Maybe it was embarrassing, but he was merely a young boy tripping over his immature feelings. He was young enough to be stupid, young enough to be bold. 

Some months later, Becky got ill and had to take a few days off. Damian was obviously pleased that Becky would stop bickering with him and his friends, so they took special time to bother Anya specifically, including: making her listen to Damian’s great deeds at the lunch table instead of letting her eat alone, asking her to carry Damian’s books so she would have an excuse to sit next to someone, and disposing all of their troublesome snacks at Anya’s table. Fortunately, Anya didn’t seem too distressed by Becky’s absence, so she and Damian continued to bicker merrily. 

Until one morning, Anya wasn’t in the classroom before school started. Naturally, the boys split up to find her. Damian was definitely not wondering if she was kidnapped by strange Westalis men, or if she was somehow expelled, or if something bad happened to her family, and no why was he overthinking—

Damian found Anya sitting on a bench behind a school building. She was listlessly slipping peanuts in her mouth, her eyes red-rimmed and her cheeks puffy. She swallowed a peanut. A tear slid down her cheek. Anya looked utterly pathetic, and Damian’s heart broke. He could never bear it whenever she cried. 

“Um, hi. You alright?”

Obviously Anya wasn’t alright, but Damian had no idea how to open a conversation. He awkwardly fumbled for his handkerchief (he had one this time!) and handed it to her. Anya took it, and he watched as she scrunched up the fabric with her stubby fingers. 

Anya sniffed. “Papa and Mama are fighting and I don’t know what to do…”

The Forgers? Damian didn’t really know Anya’s mom, but Anya’s dad seemed to be a pretty decent person. Surely they wouldn’t want to cause Anya pain. But when facing the complex problems the adults had, there was nothing kids like them could do. They were both equally helpless.

Damian sat down on the bench next to Anya. If there was nothing he could say, at least he could offer company as some sort of replacement for Becky. Anya seemed surprised, but eventually her sniffles quieted down. Neither of them said a word. Damian didn’t know how to comfort her, and Anya didn’t want to say anything either. But this was enough. Even if he was awkward and aloof, even if she was embarrassed and weepy, it was better than Anya being alone. 

Damian shifted slightly so his shoulder bumped against hers. It was quick and cautious, like when he dipped his pinky toe in bathwater to test the temperature. Damian was aware he was doing a bad job compared to Becky, but Becky wasn’t here, and Damian was maybe (probably) the second best thing. (He was always the second best). But Damian shouldn’t be focusing on himself at the moment because Anya Forger was literally bawling because of a serious problem between her parents. 

Anya’s body was trembling furiously. But then she pressed her shoulder against Damian’s, and as much as she was shaking, Damian knew that wasn’t an accident. So she was comfortable with physical contact. Speaking of which, it was usually Anya who initiated touch with Damian, be it grabbing his arm, hugging him, patting his shoulder, or whatever. And maybe on a subconscious level, Damian understood that was Anya’s way of expressing affection, which was why he started offering her physical touch when she looked down. 

Maybe if Damian was Becky, he would say something encouraging like “I’m sure your parents will be fine” and “I’ll fix your problems with money”, but Damian was a cynical child. He knew his own parents were weird around each other. He knew money and status didn’t solve everything. He knew he was just a child and he knew nothing about the scary world of grownups. Life wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows, and even as a child, he couldn’t pretend everything was fine. He wouldn’t lie to Anya about that. 

“... Hey, Sy-on boy,” Anya sniffed, and Damian’s ears instantly perked up. “Are we friends?”

Damian gulped. “Yeah?” He might bicker with her a lot, and he’d told her that he didn’t want to be friends, but obviously he shouldn’t say that right now. And besides… they probably were friends. He was constantly aware of her and they spent a lot of time together (even if they were just arguing) so she was an important presence in his life. For whatever reason. 

“Why?”

Damian’s hands began to sweat. “What do you mean, why?” It came out more like a demanding threat, and he internally winced.

“Why did you want to be friends with me?”

That was a tricky question. Damian’s usual insults of runt and shrimp melted away, and in their place came trails of sparkles and blooming flowers. But more importantly, he remembered her encouraging him to speak to his father, her lending him her handkerchief, her holding his hand on the bus, her soft smiles and ridiculous stories and enthusiasm and…

But no. That wasn’t it. Anya Forger was kind (sometimes) and funny (sometimes), but she was also incredibly aggravating. And she had a talent for aggravating Damian specifically. Why did she want to visit his house so badly? Didn’t she know it was rude to invite herself? Plus, she called him a jerk who should take out his eyeballs and wash them (which was a strangely graphic insult). She ticked him off frequently. No one else had that effect on him. But why was he foolishly orbiting someone he supposedly hated? Why couldn’t he just ignore her and move on? Why couldn’t he ever stop paying attention to her? And why was he friends with her? 

“... I don’t know,” Damian said at last. It wasn’t even a lie. He cleared his throat.

“I don’t know,” he repeated. “I just wanted to.”

After all, instinct and emotion. It wasn’t rational. It was never supposed to be rational. Damian didn’t think he could give her a satisfactory response— he was bad with words, but in this case, he didn’t even know what he was thinking. 

“So, you don’t have other reasons for being my friend?”

Damian’s heart sped up at the mention of “other reasons”. He was familiar with people sucking up to him and he didn’t like it. “W-what? No! I don’t want anything from you!” There isn’t anything your peasant family can give me, Damian thought instinctively, but he kept his mouth shut. 

Damian sighed. “I told you, I don’t even know why I wanted to be friends with you! I-I’m not lying about that.”

“Yeah, for once, you’re not lying,” Anya said, and Damian jolted, shocked by how she seemed to see through him. Don’t tell me she can read minds?

For half a second, a look of utter horror dawned on Anya’s face, but then it vanished like it had never been there before. Weird. Maybe Damian was imagining things. 

The bell rang and they both froze. Damian stared at his shoes. “Well, we have to head back. I’m not going to be tardy and neither should you.”

Anya still looked dazed. He wouldn’t blame her. Something bad had happened to her family, and it could take ages for it to sink in, let alone for her to get through it. Damian hesitated for a second, then grabbed her hand. It was small and colder than he would’ve liked. “Come on.”

They walked back to the classroom in silence. Anya was deathly quiet and her footsteps were timid, and Damian found himself missing the ferocity she usually had. This was out of character for Anya, and it made Damian’s stomach queasy. Damian asked himself why he was holding her hand. She didn’t drop it or punch him, so she probably didn’t mind. But why did Damian even offer his hand in the first place?

It was one of those many questions he didn’t have the answer to. He cared for Anya. She was his friend. He wanted to help her. She made him feel weird, happy, and angry at the same time. He wanted her to stay away from him. He wanted her to like him. These were all correct answers, but they seemed to be separate pieces to the whole picture. It was a picture he didn’t understand now, and it was a picture he would gradually pick up the missing pieces as he grew up. 

For now, it was what it always was. Instinct and emotion. 

Anya’s hand gradually warmed up. By the time they reached the corridor of their classroom, their hands had automatically separated. It was an unspoken agreement, a secret they shared, both of them silently understanding the need to be away from the prying eyes of their classmates. Even though they were both children, they somehow had the survival instinct that no one should see them hold hands for a prolonged period of time. Holding hands in public was improper in a childish, embarrassing way. But for some reason, it was fine if they were alone. It was like breaking an unspoken rule— and while holding hands was comforting, there was also a secret thrill associated with it. Maybe they didn’t fully understand the reasoning behind it, but they were aware they had to hide. Quietly break the rules when no one was around to scold them. Keep their squishy, vulnerable selves safe and out of sight. 

They were just children— children who didn’t understand the world, children who didn’t know anything, children who knew they had to follow rules, curious children, traumatised children, children who found each other. 

Anya walked behind Damian, her footsteps a quiet echo of his. He’d snuck a glance at her before and she looked calm now. Good. He didn’t want people to make fun of her crying face (even though Damian and his friends had done that before). Actually, Damian would tell Emile and Ewen to be nice to Anya— but those two had eyes and could figure it out on their own. 

Then a tug on his uniform.

(Damian was familiar with that gesture because Anya was the only one who tugged on his uniform. Everyone else tapped his shoulder or called out to him. Was it because Anya was short? Or was it because she was a commoner who wasn’t familiar with etiquette?) 

Damian turned. “What?”

Anya stretched out her hand, his handkerchief in it. “Sy-on boy, you can take this back.”

Damian stared at it. His beautiful silken handkerchief was now stained with Anya’s tears and crumpled up in her hand. Something tugged on his heartstrings in the way Anya tugged on his uniform. 

“You can keep it.”

It was short and succinct. Damian told her to keep it simply because he wanted her to. She needed it more than him. Damian shoved his hands in his pockets and continued walking.

(It was only now he realised he hadn’t been walking with his hands in his pockets because he was holding Anya’s hand. Just like that, his unbreakable habit had been casually circumvented.) 

Later, Becky recovered from her illness and came back to school. The problem between Anya’s parents seemed to be solved, because Anya was soon back to her merry, aggravating self. Damian didn’t pry because it was rude, but if Anya was happy, that meant the situation was probably fine. He didn’t need to worry. 

They returned to the status quo. Soon Damian and Anya were once again bickering about meaningless things. She called him a jerk. He called her stupid. They couldn’t help it; they couldn’t stop themselves. It was like clockwork. But as noisy as they both were, this was their natural state of being. This was better than them quietly crying because of unsolvable adult matters and trauma. They could be children again— carefree, silly, energetic children. 

Damian was still bad with words. He squabbled with her constantly and flung his childish insults at her. He frequently ran away from her, but he always returned with a pestering sort of devotion. He never knew what he wanted to say, and when he actually did know, he would say the exact opposite. None of it made sense. He wasn’t sure if he wanted it to make sense—

—Because ultimately, he was a child dealing with childish emotions. It was a kid’s view of an irrational fixation on a cute girl. He didn’t have the vocabulary to describe his rickety emotions— not elegant poetry, not elaborate metaphors, no long strings of loving praises. It was none of that passionate world-defying romance, and it had none of that adultlike sophistication. 

First love was messy, irrational, confusing, awful, and wonderful. It was sweet and sour at the same time. Damian’s mouth didn’t follow his heart. He panicked and reverted to his usual insults. He called her ugly when he thought she was pretty. First love wasn’t romantic. In fact, it felt more like hell. 

Damian didn’t want to marry her! He didn’t want to bring her flowers! It was not like what happened in the movies at all. Heck, he didn’t even want to be too close to her because he felt like an exposed, tender bundle of nerves. But even as he said that, she was always in his sight. His feelings were contradictory and he knew it. Affection and anger, care and jealousy, being bold and burying his true intentions. He had an instinctive urge to deny everything and act like he hated her just so no one would suspect the opposite. 

This wasn’t love— that came later. But the whimsy, the fantasy, the instinctive promises, the silliness— it was enough for now. 

Damian was wading through the muddy waters of adolescence, clinging onto the childish notion of “wanting things”. He wanted her attention, and he used to get it by annoying her, but by now he’d learned that wasn’t the best way. He wanted to impress her; he told her he would make space transport accessible just so she could go to the moon, yet he never found the courage to repeat it loudly when she didn’t hear him. He wanted her to stay away, yet he always came back to her, in the way Earth orbited around the bright sun. He wanted her to like him, yet he shrieked that he didn’t like her at all. He said he would never befriend a commoner, yet he let down his walls when they were alone. And on it went. 

Damian was awfully stubborn, he was sometimes mean, he lied frequently, he made his mistakes, but he also furiously protected those he cared about. That was who he was as a child, with all the ups and downs, the temper tantrums, the immaturity of a spoiled yet stressed boy. Anya Forger was his exception to many things. That girl had captured his attention. Hence, he was both extra kind and extra mean to her. 

Maybe when Damian grew up a little, he would regret being a jerk to her. And maybe he would understand he couldn’t make her like him by insulting her. Maybe one day, it would all click, and he would understand why romance movies were the way they were, and why some people spent their entire lives trying to put it into words. Maybe one day, he would actually give her flowers instead of skirting around the topic. Maybe he could face his feelings without getting embarrassed by them. 

There was something silly yet endearing about liking someone when you were too young to understand what liking someone meant. And soon, the purity and obliviousness of puppy love would scatter and vanish like the fragrance of flowers in the wind. Damian would keep those tender, immature, yet sincere feelings safe in his heart, before he inevitably grew up and those feelings matured for the better. 

But for now, Damian was still a child. 

And so he would continue with his childish pursuit of liking someone without fully understanding what it meant. 

For now, it was what it always was. Instinct and emotion.

Chapter Text

Anya doesn’t really understand romance.

Sure, she’s a shipper— kind of. She acted as the matchmaker for her parents at age five. And it’s fun watching blushing people dance around each other while Anya nonchalantly shoves peanuts into her mouth. Maybe she doesn’t understand romance, but she finds it entertaining, and maybe that makes up for it?

Her best friend Becky makes it even more confusing. Anya doesn’t understand at all every time Becky squeals after some guy. Especially when it’s one of their classmates. There’s nothing particularly charming about a random boy who walks with a slouch and sniggers over childish jokes. And thinking about kissing one of those boys or even holding their hands? Blegh. That’s gross. No offence, but it’s a big NOPE for Anya.

Romance is probably a thing grown ups understand better. That’s what happened to Anya’s parents. And Anya knows she’s younger than her peers, so she decides to ignore it.

Puberty seems scary. Anya’s twelve, puberty hasn’t hit her that bad yet, but now she’s watching her peers go through it. Everyone is growing up like bamboo shoots and Anya feels out of place. When she thinks she’s finally caught up, they’ve moved onto something else entirely; something new and unfamiliar and even a bit scary. Her classmates’ bodies and thoughts are changing everyday and Anya doesn’t think she understands what’s going on. In fact, she doesn’t think she wants to understand what’s going on.

But then she notices Damian.

Sy-on boy. Like everyone, he’s growing up, bit by bit. His face looks slightly different after the holidays, like grains of sand shifting on a sculpture. He carries his longer limbs awkwardly like he doesn’t know what to do with them. His Imperial Scholar’s cloak used to drag on the floor. Now she can see his ankles underneath.

And Damian is getting so tall.

It’s unfair. That boy is being stretched like he’s a piece of gum. Anya has to crane her neck to look at him. And it’s really unfair, because it feels like she’s been looking at him more these days. Not that there’s any particular reason. It’s not that she perks up every time she recognises his (ever growing) figure. It’s not like she finds herself looking into his eyes and sees the colour of hot chocolate in them. And it’s not like she secretly feels pleased when she yells “Sy-on boy!” and he turns to speak to her.

Sy-on boy has always been Sy-on boy to Anya. A bit of a jerk as a kid, but he’s kinder now that the years have passed. He’s ambitious, he’s a crybaby, he has good grades, he’s stupid, he’s hardworking, and he’s still a bit egotistic. But she’s used to it.

But what she isn’t used to is how her eyes are magnetically drawn to him whenever he enters a room. (What’s weird is that it isn’t even because of the mission.) Or how he looks more solemn now— more responsible and grown up. Sy-on boy is becoming a teenager. What a weird thought. He’s not a teenager yet, but still older than a child, and they’re all wading between the muddy waters of adolescence, Anya forever two steps behind.

Then out of nowhere, Damian smiles.

Damian has a good smile, Anya thinks. He’s always scowling and looking solemn so it’s nice when he smiles. Plus, she has to admit he has a nice-looking face. She knows how stressed he is so it’s nice when Damian’s happy. It makes her feel soft and fluttery inside.

And Anya’s heart thumps. For literally no reason.

Wha—?

Anya blinks. She stares stupidly at Damian. He’s still smiling. Heh????

Her heart thumps again. Her cheeks feel unusually hot. The room is swirling and spinning and at the centre of it all is her Sy-on boy. Who is still smiling.

Anya may still be struggling with her grades, but she is not stupid. She’s heard enough from Becky. She’s seen it from her parents. Heard it from Fiona’s thoughts (unfortunately).

The heart thump. That accursed “doki”. It means something.

A hundred question marks are popping up around her. Now what is this? What is this odd feeling? She doesn’t like it. Or does she? Is she supposed to feel this way? Is she old enough to be able to feel this way? Is something wrong with her??

And Anya thinks deep down, she knows the answer to that thump. Deep down, subconsciously, she knows. Maybe she’s known for a while. But she is staunchly refusing to go there. Nu-huh. It’s a problem for future Anya. For grown up Anya who knows better than this eleven year old girl that she currently is.

But right now, her thoughts are in a whirl and her cheeks are on fire, she’s bewildered and avoiding the big question, Damian is smiling and she can’t get it out of her mind, everything feels so tender and raw and new and strange yet fluttery and—

“Anya! Are you feeling alright? Do you have a fever?”

Becky’s worried voice slams Anya back into reality. Anya blinks once again and wills her blush to vanish. Her eyes become squinty as her wits return to her. She stares down at her traitorous heart that keeps on doing its own thumping thing. Hmm????

Weird. Everything feels so weird.

Ignore it, Anya tells herself. Actually, she’s quite glad Becky is here, because Anya can shuffle behind Becky like she’s a human shield protecting her from the funny soft glow coming from Sy-on boy’s smile. Anya stares (glares?) at Damian, feeling oddly judgemental, but it's not directed at him in particular. In fact, it feels more like she’s judging herself.

Heh. Well, that was strange. Time to ignore it forever.

So Anya doesn’t understand romance. She knows the theory of it, she’s seen it in action, but she’s never felt it. Still, the blueprint is there, somewhere deep within her heart. There’s a big difference between knowing something and living through it. Maybe she knows, and she’s trying not to think about it.

Anya thinks romance is about adults getting married and kisses and grenade ring proposals and dramatically saving each other and chasing each other to airports. And she also knows romance is about living together and picking up groceries and making coffee and lying on the couch, peaceful with merely existing in close proximity with the other. That’s what Becky tells her after watching her romantic dramas, and that’s what Anya has learned from her parents.

Romance is certainly not about Anya feeling nervous and jittery whenever she sees Sy-on boy. It is not about Anya’s eyes being drawn to him the way the moon gravitates towards the earth. And that odd thump her heart does whenever he smiles— maybe it means something, but surely it’s not anything important.

Surely not.

So Anya still doesn’t understand romance. But the seed is planted in her heart.

And slowly, slowly, it starts to unravel.

One smile at a time.

One thump at a time.

Chapter Text

"Damian," Anya says. "I noticed you don't get jealous anymore."

They're outside the library. It's a quiet spring afternoon, a few days after the end of term tests, and the drained students are now sufficiently re-energized. Fluttering eyelashes replace drooping eyebags, heads are lifted instead of being buried in books, and tight ponytails are swapped out for fancier hairdos. The agonising, dull period of work is over. Now it's time for their reward— the end of term dance. Benefiting from years of experience, the students gracefully pair off, no longer clumsy kids with sweaty hands and rambly speeches.

Anya, of course, gets her fair share of suitors. The number seems to grow every year. And Damian, as always, has girls clamouring after him– or rather, his status/family/fame/clout/anything that isn't actually him.

Damian is a funny individual with funny thoughts. But lately, those prickly thoughts of his have mellowed out. He's so calm that it's unnerving (and reminds her of Demetrius). It's not like him to give up on anything. (Or anyone.)

Damian avoids looking at her. "Jealous of what?"

There's no stuttering, no redness in his face, none of that snark her Sy-on boy is known for. Anya takes a step closer.

"The dance," she says like it's obvious. "You usually have... opinions on the people who ask me."

Damian used to get flustered about Anya's admirers. He would stammer and insult and scream while his mind ran like a freight train at full speed. It's interesting that Anya is the only one who coaxes out that silly, childish side of him.

Damian swallows. Anya idly traces the lines of his profile. "I mean, I think they all suck, but they're asking you, not me. It's your dance partner. It's your choice." He sounds a little sullen at the end, but he's surprisingly restrained compared to his reactions in previous years.

"Why don't you fight them anymore?"

(Did you give up?)

Damian clears his throat. He finally turns to look at Anya, and his eyes don't dart away nervously. No, there's a gentle, fond kind of sadness in them, one that makes Anya's palms sweat and her collar feel hot.

"Because," he says, "partners are supposed to be a good influence on you. They're supposed to help you mature and learn and grow up. Whenever we get together, we bicker and yell and throw things and then Becky complains about us." He pauses. "You... you don't act that way with the other guys."

Now Anya frowns. "You don't like us being silly?"

"No, I do!" Damian replies hastily. "It's just... in this society, people expect you to be mature. And you... you have to be with people who restrain you." He voice grows softer in the end, like he's repeating words he doesn't fully believe in.

"Mama and Papa still bicker sometimes," Anya pipes up. She debated not talking about her parents since it might feel like rubbing salt in the wound, but she wanted to challenge Damian's worldview. "In the silly way, of course. Like Mama's cooking and Papa's overthinking and TV shows and trips. They weren't always like this." Anya remembers the cautious beginning period of the Forger household. "... They only get to fight about the silly things after they had their big fight. It's because they know each other that they get to be silly. Papa and Mama make each other better, but they're also," she gulps, "happy together. No matter what they're doing."

Damian's gaze is unbearably soft, quietly ripping a tear in her heart. She recognises this look, and for an instant, she's five again, in her black dress, her best-kept secret trembling on the edge of her lips.

"Your family sounds nice," he says wistfully, but it's a more distant look now.

They settle into silence. Anya's eyes follow yellow butterflies dancing around a bush— never getting too close, but never straying too far either. She can hear it in the aching gap between them and she doesn't need to pry it from his mind— he thinks he's not good enough for her.

(Damian thinks he's not good enough for anyone. It's a devastating trait of his and it's only getting worse. His hubris is a flimsy cover up, and he's not even outwardly arrogant anymore.)

"But you know what the other guys don't do?" she says suddenly.

Damian laughs. "They don't make you want to punch the living hell outta them?"

Anya relishes in hearing Damian's informal, almost crude way of speaking. Aha! There it is! She's not some distant acquaintance, for God's sake! She's the girl who breaks down all of his walls, the girl who sneaks past his defences, the girl who's his only exception.

"They didn't offer to take a bomb for me when they were six."

"I—"

Anya takes a step closer, green eyes bright.

"They didn't hold my hand in the rain. They didn't stay with me when my parents were late. They didn't try to find me when I was lost in that maze. They didn't pick up the pieces of the plate I shattered. They didn't jump into a lake to save me. They didn't carry me when I broke my ankle."

For the first time, Anya sees a pretty hint of colour in Damian's cheeks. "I-it's just you're always in dangerous situations."

Anya's eyebrows furrow. "It's because you're always in dangerous situations."

"Wha...?"

He won't get it. He's not supposed to get it. Damian— second son of the Desmonds. Anya— daughter of a spy and an assassin. The bait and the bodyguard. It's always been this way, even before Anya was conscious of it. He won't get it.

Damian swallows. "So... what?"

"So!" Anya declares brightly. "I rejected everyone else!"

"Even that blond Bondman wannabe? Why?" Damian sounds genuinely confused.

Anya sighs, and she's beginning to think Damian went to the Loid Forger School of Obliviousness. "Because, they're, not, you!" she sternly gets out, taking a step closer with each word. Damian takes a step back. He is unfairly tall, and Anya stares up at her challenge, her bane of existence, her friend, her rival, her mission, her target— hers.

She stretches out a hand, and in the back of her mind she's remembering all the childish stunts she did for their friendship scheme. But even way back, it hadn't just been about the scheme. In their first year, Loid told her she was free to dance with whoever she liked. Quietly, subconsciously, she made up her mind.

"I choose you," Anya tells him, plain and simple. "Will you choose me too?"